My style of gaming relies heavily on winging it, DMing by the seat of my pants, often with little more than a few vague ideas and the backstory of the campaign to-date. I'm pretty good at that, but I've had over a quarter-of-a-century of practice, trials, amazing successes and humiliating disasters to guide my way.
If you're not so comfortable playing D&D by ear, and sandbox play works best when you are, frankly, there are lots of tools to lend you a hand. Just recently, these tools seem to have taken a quantum leap forward. First, via The Nine and Thirty Kingdoms, I found Dave Millar's Mapper App. Unlike the random map-builders of yor, this one takes advantage of a number of very cool original geomorphs that have been appearing on various blogs lately. It's got lots of customizability options, and the maps look great.
Mein Deutsch ist nicht so gut, so I'm not sure what all's being discussed at Von der Seifenkiste herab... but I could follow the link to this great collection of Labyrinth Lord tools. The map generator only uses the geomorphs of Risus Monkey. Apart for the occasional bit of repetition, and the things kinda falling off the corners, it's damn near impossible to tell that these maps were not made as one whole, rather than being assembled from bits.
In addition, that site also has various arrangements of the LL monster lists (alphabetically, by region, and by hit dice) and random room and treasure generators, so you can populate your assembled geomorph dungeons.
Speaking of treasures, did you catch Jeff Rients' series on ornamental and semiprecious stones? They include pics (so you can know what it is you're talking about) in addition to brief historical and mythological blurbs on many of them.
Truly, this is a golden age for those of us in gaming in general, not just the old-schoolers. Tools like these are becoming easier to make, and we're finding new resources all the time. I can certainly understand why some folks balk at including a laptop at the table, but I'm getting to the point where not having the resources of the intranetz at my fingertips is annoying, especially when I'm designing a setting or mapping a dungeon. Stuff like this only makes it more so.
Showing posts with label Labyrinth Lord. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Labyrinth Lord. Show all posts
Sunday, December 12, 2010
PDF
Friday, May 28, 2010
Sci-Fi Armour for Labyrinth Lord
Last time I talked a bit about what I’m doing with firearms, and now I’m going to talk about armour. Moldvay/Cook/Labyrinth Lord makes armour a pretty big deal. But descending AC limits me somewhat, and makes the math a bit harder. So, for my sci-fi project, I’m going to bite the bullet and embrace the ascending AC.
May Thor have mercy on my poor lost soul. ;)
The nice thing is, this really gives me no upper limit on AC or on attack roll bonuses for weapons. I can get really crazy if I want to. I don’t think I want to, but I like having the option open.
The real handicap here is that this game only has one flavor of AC. Sure, I could create all sorts of tables for impact vs. energy vs. gravitic attacks, but I really don’t want to deal with all of that. I may change my mind later, but for now, I think I’m going to try to hew to a single sort of AC.
Armour is fairly vague in my Labyrinth Lord games. “Plate Mail” can mean the articulated armour of the Renaissance knight, but it can also mean the breastplate, helm, and grieves of the classical hoplite. I’m going to be equally vague here.
Soft Armour (+5 AC): this is woven layers of special flexible, cloth-like materials. It usually means bulky flack-jackets, but if you’re willing to pay ten times the list price you can get stuff that can be hidden under most clothing. Most space suits count as soft armour, especially those fashioned to be used in construction, mining, or other hazardous activities.
Rigid Armour (+7 AC): fashioned from hard plates of specialized materials. This can’t be disguised easily. Armoured space suits are those with rigid plates attached for additional protection. These are usually only seen on folks expecting to get shot at, though some environments are dangerous enough to warrant their general use.
Light Powered Armour (+9 AC): Powered armour gives a boost to the wearer’s strength, stability via a rigid, robotic exoskeleton while onboard sensors provide enhanced perception. This results in an effective STR of 18 while wearing the armour. Light powered armour is used primarily for scout units and those expected to fit into small vehicles. Still, if the power fails, it’s nearly impossible to move in.
Living Armour (+10 AC): Living armour is a biological parasite that fits itself around its wearer, who enjoys additional protection, enhanced strength and reflexes, as well as boosted senses. The results are a +1 to STR and an increase in the wearer's hit points by 25% (rounded down). The suit's hit points are lost first, but the loss of the last hit point doesn't kill the suit or affect the wearer's AC in any way. In addition, it can never run out of power. To get a suit of living armour to stop working, you have to kill it. It’s the armour of choice for those who can afford it. Unlike other armours, it needs to be fed regularly and can be extremely particular about who wears it.
Heavy Powered Armour (+11 AC): heavier version of the light powered armour. It grants the wearer a STR of 19 while the power lasts. Generally supplied to shock and forward assault troops, as well as the spearhead of boarding parties. If the power goes out, you can’t move. It typically comes with its own internal life-support, making it, in effect, a really fancy, sturdy space suit, though you’ll almost never see it used anywhere besides combat.
Ulta-heavy Powered Armour (+15 AC): really more a small artillery platform than armour per se. Movement is slow even when it’s powered up, and if the power fails you probably can’t even get out of it! The STR of the wearer is effectively 20 while the suit is operating.
Arachnid Armour (+12 AC): a heavy version of living armour, this adds four additional limbs with diamond claws for combat or climbing. It can be used to manhandle heavy equipment or weapons, be ferocious in melee, or travel overland at great speed, even over rough terrain. The wearer has their hit points increased by 50% (rounded down) and the effective strength of the limbs is 18. It needs to be well-fed for optimal performance, however, and it eats like a horse.
UPDATE: Added STR and hit point bonuses to some of the armours.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Gauss Weapons in Labyrinth Lord
Ranged combat in Moldvay/Cook still gives me fits. Yeah, it works well enough, but only being able to shoot once every ten seconds is insane, even for crossbows. Things get worse when you start looking at adding modern or futuristic firearms.
When translating firearms to D&D, most folks start with the damage. They want guns to be as dangerous as they are in real life, so turn to tools like exploding damage dice. This certainly does make firearms dangerous to high-level characters. However, that doesn't quite work with my sense of hit points being the ability and will to continue to fight, rather than structural integrity. Traditionally, fire arms were seen as the great equalizer because they rendered strength, size, expensive equipment, and, in many respects, skill, largely irrelevant. Anyone with a modicum of training and steady hands could too easily slay a knight in the finest armor, atop the most expensive horse, and with a lifetime of training. "The good Lord made all men," as the saying goes, "but it was Samuel Colt who made us equal."
So I'm thinking of approaching fire arms from the other end, and giving them bonuses in the attack roll. These bonuses are going to be pretty hefty. Even a simple firearm like a matchlock or flintlock deserves a +1 or +2. Once you're talking about shotguns and full-auto machineguns, bonuses of +5 or more may not be out of the question. (Keep in mind that the spread of a shotgun and the spray-and-pray firing technique of an assault rifle on full auto are less about putting lots of holes in your target and more about putting lots of lead in the air in order to increase the chances of hitting something.) Firearms will likely do about the same amount of damage as other weapons, since losing hit points is more about stress, distraction, and exhaustion than it is about physical integrity and blood loss.
Because a certain someone is obsessed with gauss weapons, we'll be taking a look at those here. The really cool thing about these weapons is that they allow a wide range of ammunition types. So let's see what we can do with that:
Solid Slug - the most basic projectile. This grants a +3 on the attack roll, +5 with autofire (but keep in mind that this increases the chance of hitting something else as well). It has an effective range of 1,200 feet and does 2d4 damage.
Smart Slug - this is a solid slug with wings. It can’t shoot around corners, but it is far more accurate. It can only be fired in single-shot mode, enjoys a +4 bonus on the attack roll, and an effective range of 2,400 feet. However, this projectile requires additional gear for properly selecting a target. It also does 2d4 damage.
Explosive Slug - a solid slug that goes boom. Using the same targeting gear as the smart slug, this one actually can reach round corners. When it goes off, roll a normal attack roll for every target within a 5 foot radius, adding +3 to all the attack rolls. Those hit take 1d6damage. Autofire is not an option.
Screamer Slug - a solid slug that whistles and then goes boom. The screamer slug has an effective range of only 900 feet. It doesn't require any special targeting equipment. However, it emits a hideous whistle as it flies through the air. It also explodes after it hits the target, doing 2d6 damage after a successful hit. The combined effect is a -2 on the morale rolls of anyone being shot at. However, the wonky aerodynamics give it only a +2 on the attack rolls, +3 with autofire.
Force Slug - a slug that pierces force fields. This is very expensive round generates its own force field designed to penetrate defensive force fields. It has an effective range of 900 feet, but is otherwise just like a solid slug.
Taser Slug - a slug that shocks. This acts just like a solid slug, but only does 1d6 damage and doesn't kill your target.
Needle Shell - a disintegrating shell that releases a swarm of tiny needles. The effective range on this is only 200 feet. The attack roll bonus is +4, +6 on auto fire. The needles can be used to inject a wide variety of toxins into the target. Usually, this at least doubles their cost.
Painter Shell - this shell splatters a gooey substance on the target that calls out to smart slugs. It adds an additional +2 attack bonus to Smart slugs fired at the same target. It only does one point of damage, but is otherwise just like a solid slug.
Am I missing any good ones?
Art by Ludovico Marchetti.
So I'm thinking of approaching fire arms from the other end, and giving them bonuses in the attack roll. These bonuses are going to be pretty hefty. Even a simple firearm like a matchlock or flintlock deserves a +1 or +2. Once you're talking about shotguns and full-auto machineguns, bonuses of +5 or more may not be out of the question. (Keep in mind that the spread of a shotgun and the spray-and-pray firing technique of an assault rifle on full auto are less about putting lots of holes in your target and more about putting lots of lead in the air in order to increase the chances of hitting something.) Firearms will likely do about the same amount of damage as other weapons, since losing hit points is more about stress, distraction, and exhaustion than it is about physical integrity and blood loss.
Because a certain someone is obsessed with gauss weapons, we'll be taking a look at those here. The really cool thing about these weapons is that they allow a wide range of ammunition types. So let's see what we can do with that:
Solid Slug - the most basic projectile. This grants a +3 on the attack roll, +5 with autofire (but keep in mind that this increases the chance of hitting something else as well). It has an effective range of 1,200 feet and does 2d4 damage.
Smart Slug - this is a solid slug with wings. It can’t shoot around corners, but it is far more accurate. It can only be fired in single-shot mode, enjoys a +4 bonus on the attack roll, and an effective range of 2,400 feet. However, this projectile requires additional gear for properly selecting a target. It also does 2d4 damage.
Explosive Slug - a solid slug that goes boom. Using the same targeting gear as the smart slug, this one actually can reach round corners. When it goes off, roll a normal attack roll for every target within a 5 foot radius, adding +3 to all the attack rolls. Those hit take 1d6damage. Autofire is not an option.
Screamer Slug - a solid slug that whistles and then goes boom. The screamer slug has an effective range of only 900 feet. It doesn't require any special targeting equipment. However, it emits a hideous whistle as it flies through the air. It also explodes after it hits the target, doing 2d6 damage after a successful hit. The combined effect is a -2 on the morale rolls of anyone being shot at. However, the wonky aerodynamics give it only a +2 on the attack rolls, +3 with autofire.
Force Slug - a slug that pierces force fields. This is very expensive round generates its own force field designed to penetrate defensive force fields. It has an effective range of 900 feet, but is otherwise just like a solid slug.
Taser Slug - a slug that shocks. This acts just like a solid slug, but only does 1d6 damage and doesn't kill your target.
Needle Shell - a disintegrating shell that releases a swarm of tiny needles. The effective range on this is only 200 feet. The attack roll bonus is +4, +6 on auto fire. The needles can be used to inject a wide variety of toxins into the target. Usually, this at least doubles their cost.
Painter Shell - this shell splatters a gooey substance on the target that calls out to smart slugs. It adds an additional +2 attack bonus to Smart slugs fired at the same target. It only does one point of damage, but is otherwise just like a solid slug.
Am I missing any good ones?
Art by Ludovico Marchetti.
Wednesday, May 05, 2010
Red vs. Green: Taking the House Rules for a Spin
As the two approach each other, we encounter the first house rule: initiative. The battle ax has an initiative of 8 as does the sword. However, the Green Knight's Dexterity gives him an initiative adjustments of +1 so he goes first. The Red Knight’s armor class is 5; the Green Knight needs to roll 12 or higher to hurt him. Unfortunately, he rolls a 3. The Green Knight's AC is 4 thanks to shield. The Red Knight needs to roll a 13 or better. He rolls an 18!
Because the battle ax is a two handed weapon, it does 2d4 damage. The Red Knight rolls very well and does the max possible: 9 points.
Pressed hard by the Red Knight's aggressive opening, the Green Knight attempts to rally. He succeeds with a roll of 19. The one-handed sword does 1D6 damage; the Green Knight rolls a 1. The Green Knight’s rally has stolen the Red Knight’s momentum; the Red Knight rolls an 11.
The next round sees our two combatants exchanging blows to no real effect. The Red Knight, however, remains undaunted and rolls a 15. He rolls a 4 and a 1 for a total of 6 (4+1+1 for STR) damage thanks to his high-strength. The Green Knight is clearly struggling. Another blow like that could take them out of the fight.
He's not down yet, however. In the next round he rolls a 13. The roll for damage is a 5. The Green Knight is growing desperate and his fancy sword-work is simply being power through by the stronger Red Knight. The two knights continue their clash, with the Green Knight wearing away another two of the Red Knight’s hit points. The Red Knight barely seems to notice and lands another telling blow on the Green Knight.
With only six hit points remaining, the Green Knight knows he's in trouble. In a desperate bid for survival, the Green Knight throws shield up between his fragile body and the Red Knight's cruel ax. The heavy blade shatters wood and steel, but the Green Knight emerges still on his feet. His left arm is bruised but not broken. He draws his dagger with his left hand as a companion for his sword.
The Green Knight still rolls only one die for his attacks and his next roll is a 14. For damage, he rolls a 3 and a 1. Since he's using two weapons he chooses the best of those rolls; so the Red Knight takes three points of damage.
Both knights are now feeling the strain of the combat. They circle one another warily, testing each other with feints and sudden attacks. The Green Knight breaks through first and drives his foe back, dealing four points of damage. He presses his momentary advantage, doing another three points of damage. But the Red Knight is having none of it. He shrugs off the Green Knight’s attacks, and lets his foe walk straight into his ax for another four points of damage. The Green Knight unleashes a furious rain of blows, doing six points of damage and reducing the Red Knight to just four points. But the Green Knight has only two hit points, and the Red Knight’s response does seven points of damage.
That reduces the Green Knight zero hit points. He must now roll on the Table of Death & Dismemberment. The 2d6 turns up 7: knocked out for 2d6 rounds, unless wearing a helm. Luckily for the Green Knight, he is wearing a helm and is only stunned for one round. Even luckier, the Red Knight is so shocked by his success that he fails to follow up on it by rolling a 3.
The Green Knight recovers from his stupor and swings at the Red Knight. He rolls a19, and then a 1 and a 5 for damage! That brings the Red Knight to zero hit points, and he rolls a 9 on the Table of Death & Dismemberment. As he's also wearing helm, the ringing blow to his noggin only knocks him down. He forgoes his next attack to get back on his feet; otherwise, he'd be at -2 to attack and the Green Knight would be a +2 to attack.
The Red Knight is in no shape to continue the struggle. Under some circumstances, I might let a PC fight on if there is a compelling reason to believe they would struggle on in spite of this grievous wound. The Red Knight, however, is done for. The Green Knight takes mercy on his foe and uses his dagger to provide a coup de grace, ending his agony.
Art by Frank William Warwick Topham and Gustave Courbet.
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.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Pixie Class
Another class for my Labyrinth Lord game. We're getting a new player and she made the request to play a pixie. Should be interesting, as the fey have been largely on the sidelines so far, though looming large in the calculations of all sides in the current situation. The numbers were largely generated via Paul Montgomery Crabaugh's Customized Classes article from DRAGON magazine of May, 1986.Pixies are tiny (1.5 feet tall on average) fey with sleek, elf-like bodies, almond-shaped eyes, pointed ears, and butterfly-like wings. They have no issues with nudity, though most tend to wear jewelry and clothing as decoration, so long as it doesn't interfere with their flying.
Most assume pixies are shy, but the truth is they are just cautious, especially around “clumsy big-folk.” In truth, pixies are socially and sexually promiscuous. They live in large communities based around a tree or trees in which they hang their woven-basket homes. While it's fairly common for young pixies to leave the Tree they grew up in to form a new Tree or join another existing one, it's not common for pixies to head out into the wild in search of adventure alone. Still, the rare restless spirit does strike out from time to time, driven by curiosity, thrills, or for more urgent reasons.
Dexterity and Intelligence are the primary attributes of pixies. A pixie who has a score of 15 or more in either attribute gets a 5% bonus to earned experience. A pixie who has a score of 12 or more in both stats gets a bonus of 10% to earned experience points.
RESTRICTIONS: Pixies use six-sided dice (d6) to determine their hit points. They may not wear armour or use shields, and pixie weapons are so tiny that single-handed arms do only 1d2 damage while two-handed weapons do 1d4 damage. So long as they are flying, however, their initiative is 8. A grounded pixie has an initiative of only 2. Because of their tiny size, any equipment tailored for them costs 50% of the normal price. They must have a score of at least 12 in Dexterity and may not have a score greater than 9 in Strength. They stop advancing at 9th level.
SPECIAL ABILITIES: Pixies save as Elves. Because of their tiny size, all foes suffer a -1 penalty to hit them. They can also turn invisible once per day, as per the third-level magic-user spell. Their wings allow them to fly in all but the fiercest of gales. They fight using the Rogue's to-hit tables and have access to magic-user spells. Like elves, they are able to see by mere starlight nearly as well as humans may at dusk.
Art by Luis Ricardo Falero.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Anatomy of a Campaign
Over at B/X Blackrazor, JB was wondering:
hmm… I wonder how Oddysey and Trollsmyth’s current on-going campaign developed. Odd has said this is the first time she’s played in a campaign that took things to this particular depth of character interaction…were her former games played in the mini-campaign or forced plot setting? Or is their current gaming style simply built on mutual rapport and understanding of narrative agenda needs?
The answer is, not quickly. That's not the sort of play you can start cold. You have to build up to it.
It would be nice if you could just say, "Hey, we're building a social campaign and it's going to deal with x, y, and z." You could, I suppose, pull it off if the DM was willing to give the players extreme amounts of narrative control, and I've done that in the past with a few players I knew very well and had played with a lot before. If you don't do that, however, you end up in a situation where the players don't have anything to talk about. Even if they've read voluminous amounts of campaign material, they don't really understand the setting well enough to interact with it. (Unless that setting is based on a well-known IP, like Harry Potter or some such, which is why such are the most popular themes for free-form RPing, I'm sure.) The background gives players something to talk about, and knowing and being comfortable with the style gives them ways to talk about those things. If either is missing, they're reduced to talking about the weather in the safest and most boring of tones.
My preferred style is open sandbox and very laissez-faire. But such games need a bit of impetus, and if the players are to be comfortable enough to stretch themselves a bit, they need some limitations. There's nothing more intimidating to a lot of people than a completely blank canvas.
In Oddysey's case, I started off with a very open-ended problem for her to solve: being shipwrecked on a strange coast. This got her used to my rather loose, the-DM-doesn't-have-a-plan-so-do-what-makes-sense-or-is-fun-for-you style. When she returned to civilization and was able to choose her own path, she latched on to dungeon-delving. This was great because it was a style she'd not had much experience with, but comes with its own set of very focused goals and geographical limitations. As Oddysey recently commented, however, it wasn't raw monster-slaying and trap-finding. Since it was a solo game, there were hirelings and such to fill out the party, mostly chosen by her. Whenever she mentioned interest in hiring a particular class to join her group, I'd gin up at least three examples (it's so easy in LL that three take maybe a half-hour or so to roll up and write down) with a brief description of their personalities, reputations, and competencies beyond their class. Because there was no one else to interact with (most of the time) there was a lot of interaction with these NPCs. And that's really where we got things rolling. Up until that point, I wasn't really sure what sort of play Oddysey was interested in. As she points out, most of the traditional assumptions of Old School play, like dungeons, were not very well known to her, so even she wasn't sure what sort of play she wanted, other than something new that she hadn't tried before. So leaving things open and not forcing a certain agenda left it open for us to explore, and we built the playstyle together out of mutual interests.
(And yes, this did mean that certain dungeon complexes were left "uncleared" but that's fine with me. Like Mr. Maliszewski, I've never assumed that clearing the entire locale was the goal, and my players have generally been happy with focused, surgical operations rather than genocidal invasions. ;p )The one thing I did rigorously enforce was the verisimilitude. I think that really helps, because it gives players things they can rely on, things they can trust. With that bedrock, they can begin to invest in their characters' interests and goals, and from that comes engagement with the world. And once they do that, it's easy to build an entire session around chatting with a rakshasa and a priestess about boys, because the players know who their characters are, how they relate to the rakshasa and the priestess, and why boys would be fun to talk about.
Art by Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema and Edward Moran
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
State of the Campaign II
Waaaaay back in February of this year, I wrote a quick "State of the Campaign" post, discussing the Labyrinth Lord game I was running with OpenRPG. A lot has happened in the intervening eleven months, and while it may be a touch premature to write a year-in-review (since it's not quite 2010 yet), a critical inventory is long overdue. So here are my thoughts, not quite a year on into the campaign. Er, campaigns...
Campaigns?
Yeah, multiple campaigns. See, when I started, one player was there every week, but for a while we had new "costar" every other session, a player who'd last a game or two, and then drop out. Such things happen, due to scheduling conflicts, tragedy, the shifting nature of life, and the fact that I run a not-quite-normal campaign that isn't a perfect fit (or even a good fit) for everyone. I don't take it personally, and so far almost everyone has been incredibly polite about it when an issue has come up.
Anyway, when a new group was coming together, the character my regular player was playing had developed in interesting ways and we were experimenting with some neat ideas that we didn't want to have deflected by bringing in new players. So that game turned into a solo campaign, the player created a second character, and now I'm running two games in the campaign in kinda-sorta parallel. That means more gaming for me, and gives the campaign a cool Westmarches vibe, with the two groups hearing about each other's exploits. Luckily, the player who is in both is awesome when it comes to keeping player and character knowledge separate. In fact, she seems to really enjoy it when her two characters learn things and fashion opinions about each other that are not quite accurate or true.
Labyrinth Lord
So far, the rules continue to deliver. The gaps have been especially useful in the solo game, where things have taken a strong social turn. Dungeon delving isn't just in the back seat to more social and cultural aspects of play; right now, it's in the trunk, with duct tape over its mouth and a blanket thrown over it. I'm certain that won't last, but the flexibility of the system is really serving us well.
Primarily, what's really working great is what Labyrinth Lord doesn't do. It doesn't dictate how romance should work, or give us mechanics for "social combat" or anything like that. It gets out of the way and allows us to RP that stuff the way we want it. So far, it's working great, and entire sessions can pass without anybody rolling any dice.
When I do need rules, Labyrinth Lord doesn't suffocate. When a character got swallowed by a chaos creature and transformed in its gullet, it was a matter of maybe an hour to create a nixie class. [Note to self: post this to the blog.] I've also completely thrown off my original, self-imposed limit of only using stuff from Labyrinth Lord and have embraced monsters and magic from the full range of D&D, from the little brown books all the way into 2e. There's some 3e stuff that might show up later, specifically from The Book of Vile Darkness, but that's going to take a bit more tweaking to get right. Best of all, I can use stuff from Taichara's Hamsterish Hoard without any tweaking at all. I'm also looking forward to including stuff from JB's Companion addition to the Moldvay/Cook line.
There are a few nits that I've been picking at, though. First, the addition of more armour classes seems unnecessary. Leather, mail and lamellar, and plate would probably serve our needs just fine. Maybe, maybe a separation between mail and lamellar. Maybe.
Also, things have been moving veeeeeeeery sloooooowly when it come to leveling up. It's taken about six months of steady, weekly play to get character from 1st to 2nd level. That seems a bit too slow to me. I'm not sure if the problem is me, or the players, or what. I need to investigate this more closely and make certain that I'm giving enough treasure. I suspect the real culprit is a lackadaisical attitude towards tracking the treasure. Everyone's having fun with the social and exploration aspects of the game, but nobody is really into tracking every coin or jade disk they lug out of the ruins. Part of me is tempted to just let things go as they have been, and let the players take a more proactive attitude about it, but I suspect that this path leads to frustration and social friction that I'd probably better head off before it becomes an issue.
Setting
The setting continues to delight and thrill me. The players seem to really enjoy it as well, and people repeatedly tell me that I have got a fun world to explore and play in. I'm not sure it's quite as flavorful as I wanted it to be, but that may be because my original conception of it was kinda out there, and it's best to let player settle slowly into the aspects of the world that are most unfamiliar, to avoid any "Tekumel-shock syndrome."
Most of the action has taken place on the island of Dreng Bdan, and that hasn't changed much yet, but I know that won't last. The solo campaign has already shifted its focus to the Elemental Planes. There are opportunities for such a shift in the group campaign right now as well, including the potential for a move into an Underground Wilderness campaign.
Efficiency and Pacing
We're still not communicating between sessions as much as I'd like us to be, and this is causing some social friction in the group game. I'm hoping we've got most of that behind us, but frankly, I suspect there are some issues in play style that will continue to trouble us off-and-on. On the one hand, these issues have interrupted valuable playing time and have flared up into open animosity between the players on occasion. On the other hand, having players with divergent styles has pushed the game in interesting directions. So far, I think it's been worth the added stress.
RP
In-character, however, things have been awesome! One of the players is practically brand-new to RPGs and he has done an amazing job of really getting "stuck in" to the world and his character. Honestly, if you want to really improve your RP, the best thing you can do is forget how these games are "supposed to be" played and go back to that little kid who waved a stick in the air, called it a sword, and just had adventures. The magic of Labyrinth Lord is that it makes this very possible, giving us just enough to keep the world consistent and to adjudicate exactly who shot who when it becomes an issue.
In the solo game, things have really gotten to an amazing level where the RP so overshadows the rules we hardly ever roll dice much anymore. I think we're more comfortable with a level of free-form play than many, and we're wallowing in that right now. The RP in both campaigns has me really jazzed to get back to playing as soon as our short break for the holidays is over.
Blogging
If there's one thing I'm not happy about, it's the state of my blogging. The honest truth is, I'm having so much fun actually playing, and prepping to play, that I haven't felt a strong desire to blog. I'm also a bit at a loss for what to blog about; the deeper down the rabbit hole both campaigns go, the harder it is to talk about them. I'm sure you've experienced something similar, where the experiences and assumptions of a campaign become so particular to that campaign, that it takes hours of back-story and explanation just to describe the simplest things. That's a triumph for any campaign, because it means you've really made the game your own. But it sucks for creating bloggable material.
I'm not sure what to do about that. I'll probably start by being less hesitant to throw up some stuff from the campaign and see what you, the readers, respond to. There was a far stronger response to the post about noble hierarchies among efreet than I was expecting. It's likely that I'm thinking too hard about what is fun and useful for you.
Campaigns?
Yeah, multiple campaigns. See, when I started, one player was there every week, but for a while we had new "costar" every other session, a player who'd last a game or two, and then drop out. Such things happen, due to scheduling conflicts, tragedy, the shifting nature of life, and the fact that I run a not-quite-normal campaign that isn't a perfect fit (or even a good fit) for everyone. I don't take it personally, and so far almost everyone has been incredibly polite about it when an issue has come up.
Anyway, when a new group was coming together, the character my regular player was playing had developed in interesting ways and we were experimenting with some neat ideas that we didn't want to have deflected by bringing in new players. So that game turned into a solo campaign, the player created a second character, and now I'm running two games in the campaign in kinda-sorta parallel. That means more gaming for me, and gives the campaign a cool Westmarches vibe, with the two groups hearing about each other's exploits. Luckily, the player who is in both is awesome when it comes to keeping player and character knowledge separate. In fact, she seems to really enjoy it when her two characters learn things and fashion opinions about each other that are not quite accurate or true.
Labyrinth Lord
So far, the rules continue to deliver. The gaps have been especially useful in the solo game, where things have taken a strong social turn. Dungeon delving isn't just in the back seat to more social and cultural aspects of play; right now, it's in the trunk, with duct tape over its mouth and a blanket thrown over it. I'm certain that won't last, but the flexibility of the system is really serving us well.
Primarily, what's really working great is what Labyrinth Lord doesn't do. It doesn't dictate how romance should work, or give us mechanics for "social combat" or anything like that. It gets out of the way and allows us to RP that stuff the way we want it. So far, it's working great, and entire sessions can pass without anybody rolling any dice.
When I do need rules, Labyrinth Lord doesn't suffocate. When a character got swallowed by a chaos creature and transformed in its gullet, it was a matter of maybe an hour to create a nixie class. [Note to self: post this to the blog.] I've also completely thrown off my original, self-imposed limit of only using stuff from Labyrinth Lord and have embraced monsters and magic from the full range of D&D, from the little brown books all the way into 2e. There's some 3e stuff that might show up later, specifically from The Book of Vile Darkness, but that's going to take a bit more tweaking to get right. Best of all, I can use stuff from Taichara's Hamsterish Hoard without any tweaking at all. I'm also looking forward to including stuff from JB's Companion addition to the Moldvay/Cook line.
There are a few nits that I've been picking at, though. First, the addition of more armour classes seems unnecessary. Leather, mail and lamellar, and plate would probably serve our needs just fine. Maybe, maybe a separation between mail and lamellar. Maybe.
Also, things have been moving veeeeeeeery sloooooowly when it come to leveling up. It's taken about six months of steady, weekly play to get character from 1st to 2nd level. That seems a bit too slow to me. I'm not sure if the problem is me, or the players, or what. I need to investigate this more closely and make certain that I'm giving enough treasure. I suspect the real culprit is a lackadaisical attitude towards tracking the treasure. Everyone's having fun with the social and exploration aspects of the game, but nobody is really into tracking every coin or jade disk they lug out of the ruins. Part of me is tempted to just let things go as they have been, and let the players take a more proactive attitude about it, but I suspect that this path leads to frustration and social friction that I'd probably better head off before it becomes an issue.
Setting
The setting continues to delight and thrill me. The players seem to really enjoy it as well, and people repeatedly tell me that I have got a fun world to explore and play in. I'm not sure it's quite as flavorful as I wanted it to be, but that may be because my original conception of it was kinda out there, and it's best to let player settle slowly into the aspects of the world that are most unfamiliar, to avoid any "Tekumel-shock syndrome."
Most of the action has taken place on the island of Dreng Bdan, and that hasn't changed much yet, but I know that won't last. The solo campaign has already shifted its focus to the Elemental Planes. There are opportunities for such a shift in the group campaign right now as well, including the potential for a move into an Underground Wilderness campaign.
Efficiency and Pacing
We're still not communicating between sessions as much as I'd like us to be, and this is causing some social friction in the group game. I'm hoping we've got most of that behind us, but frankly, I suspect there are some issues in play style that will continue to trouble us off-and-on. On the one hand, these issues have interrupted valuable playing time and have flared up into open animosity between the players on occasion. On the other hand, having players with divergent styles has pushed the game in interesting directions. So far, I think it's been worth the added stress.
RP
In-character, however, things have been awesome! One of the players is practically brand-new to RPGs and he has done an amazing job of really getting "stuck in" to the world and his character. Honestly, if you want to really improve your RP, the best thing you can do is forget how these games are "supposed to be" played and go back to that little kid who waved a stick in the air, called it a sword, and just had adventures. The magic of Labyrinth Lord is that it makes this very possible, giving us just enough to keep the world consistent and to adjudicate exactly who shot who when it becomes an issue.
In the solo game, things have really gotten to an amazing level where the RP so overshadows the rules we hardly ever roll dice much anymore. I think we're more comfortable with a level of free-form play than many, and we're wallowing in that right now. The RP in both campaigns has me really jazzed to get back to playing as soon as our short break for the holidays is over.
Blogging
If there's one thing I'm not happy about, it's the state of my blogging. The honest truth is, I'm having so much fun actually playing, and prepping to play, that I haven't felt a strong desire to blog. I'm also a bit at a loss for what to blog about; the deeper down the rabbit hole both campaigns go, the harder it is to talk about them. I'm sure you've experienced something similar, where the experiences and assumptions of a campaign become so particular to that campaign, that it takes hours of back-story and explanation just to describe the simplest things. That's a triumph for any campaign, because it means you've really made the game your own. But it sucks for creating bloggable material.
I'm not sure what to do about that. I'll probably start by being less hesitant to throw up some stuff from the campaign and see what you, the readers, respond to. There was a far stronger response to the post about noble hierarchies among efreet than I was expecting. It's likely that I'm thinking too hard about what is fun and useful for you.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Artesia and Half-ogres
Can't sleep. So a little tea, a little fudge, and a little inspiration, and we have a blog post.
First, I should have been reading Mark Smylie's “Artesia” years ago. A healthy helping of Greek myth and John Keegan's The Face of Battle (a book I cannot recommend highly enough for anyone interested in military history) sprinkled liberally with Joseph Campbell and the gorgeous world building of Jacqueline Carey's Kushiel novels make for a mighty fine tale. Yeah, it's got a pinch of “Women = Good; Man = Bad” in it, but so far nothing quite as obnoxious as other stuff I've read.
And that prods me to make a hierodule class for my Labyrinth Lord game. But I'm not quite up to the creative challenge tonight, in my sleep-addled state. However, Mike D. recently posted his version of a half-ogre class for Swords & Wizardry. I could just adopt his and drop it in as-is, but I'd rather take my own whack at it, especially since I think some of my hacks to the Labyrinth Lord rules will work very well for something like this.
I've long had a fondness for half-ogres. I really can't say why. I ran one in a 2e game a few years back. The most important lesson I think we took away from that game was, never assist a half-ogre engaged in magical research.
HALF-OGRES
It is said that Tiamat favors the orcs and their kin the ogres more than almost all of her children, save the dragons. Whether or not this is true, they certainly rank among the most numerous of her offspring. Both races are so fecund it is said that they can successfully mate with nearly every mammalian humanoid species. Whatever the species of the mother, such children almost always favor their orcish or ogreish parent in looks and demeanor.
Half-ogres grow quickly to massive proportions. Adults range in height from 6 to 8 feet tall weigh in around 300 pounds. They tend to be temperamental, sadistic, and aggressive. Most assume they are slow-witted, but many possess a sly, bestial cunning that makes them dangerous foes.
The prime requisites for a half-ogre are Strength and Constitution. If a half-ogre has a scores of 13 or better in both Strength and Constitution, the character will gain a 5% bonus to earned experience. If the half-ogre's Strength is 13 or better and his or her Constitution is 16 or better, that character will earn a 10% bonus on earned experience.
RESTRICTIONS: Half-ogres role six-sided dice to determine their hit points. However, do note that a first level half-ogre rolls 2d6 for starting hit points. (And in my game, that means a half-ogre's hit points at first level are 12 plus any Constitution bonus.) Half-ogres my use any shield and any armour. However, this armour costs 150% of the normal prices due to the half-ogre's massive size. They may wield any weapon. Any normal-sized weapon that usually requires two hands can be wielded by a half-ogre in just one, and they still do 2d4 damage. In addition, massive weapons that require even a half-ogre to use both hands can be fashioned. These cost 150% the price of normal-sized weapons of the same type, may not be fashioned from bronze, and do 2d6 damage. Most normal mounts are not strong enough to carry a half-ogre character very far, if at all. A character must have a Strength of 11 or better to be a half-ogre.
SPECIAL ABILITIES: Half-ogres have infravision and can see 60 feet in the dark. The use the same saving throws as dwarves. They may eat almost anything that isn't outright poisonous without ill effect, no matter how spoiled, moldy, or rotten. If a half-ogre slays a foe, and there is another foe also actively attacking the half-ogre, the half-ogre player gets an immediate attack on this second foe. Rinse and repeat until the half-ogre fails to slay or runs out of foes.
First, I should have been reading Mark Smylie's “Artesia” years ago. A healthy helping of Greek myth and John Keegan's The Face of Battle (a book I cannot recommend highly enough for anyone interested in military history) sprinkled liberally with Joseph Campbell and the gorgeous world building of Jacqueline Carey's Kushiel novels make for a mighty fine tale. Yeah, it's got a pinch of “Women = Good; Man = Bad” in it, but so far nothing quite as obnoxious as other stuff I've read.
And that prods me to make a hierodule class for my Labyrinth Lord game. But I'm not quite up to the creative challenge tonight, in my sleep-addled state. However, Mike D. recently posted his version of a half-ogre class for Swords & Wizardry. I could just adopt his and drop it in as-is, but I'd rather take my own whack at it, especially since I think some of my hacks to the Labyrinth Lord rules will work very well for something like this.
I've long had a fondness for half-ogres. I really can't say why. I ran one in a 2e game a few years back. The most important lesson I think we took away from that game was, never assist a half-ogre engaged in magical research.
HALF-OGRES
It is said that Tiamat favors the orcs and their kin the ogres more than almost all of her children, save the dragons. Whether or not this is true, they certainly rank among the most numerous of her offspring. Both races are so fecund it is said that they can successfully mate with nearly every mammalian humanoid species. Whatever the species of the mother, such children almost always favor their orcish or ogreish parent in looks and demeanor.
Half-ogres grow quickly to massive proportions. Adults range in height from 6 to 8 feet tall weigh in around 300 pounds. They tend to be temperamental, sadistic, and aggressive. Most assume they are slow-witted, but many possess a sly, bestial cunning that makes them dangerous foes.
The prime requisites for a half-ogre are Strength and Constitution. If a half-ogre has a scores of 13 or better in both Strength and Constitution, the character will gain a 5% bonus to earned experience. If the half-ogre's Strength is 13 or better and his or her Constitution is 16 or better, that character will earn a 10% bonus on earned experience.
RESTRICTIONS: Half-ogres role six-sided dice to determine their hit points. However, do note that a first level half-ogre rolls 2d6 for starting hit points. (And in my game, that means a half-ogre's hit points at first level are 12 plus any Constitution bonus.) Half-ogres my use any shield and any armour. However, this armour costs 150% of the normal prices due to the half-ogre's massive size. They may wield any weapon. Any normal-sized weapon that usually requires two hands can be wielded by a half-ogre in just one, and they still do 2d4 damage. In addition, massive weapons that require even a half-ogre to use both hands can be fashioned. These cost 150% the price of normal-sized weapons of the same type, may not be fashioned from bronze, and do 2d6 damage. Most normal mounts are not strong enough to carry a half-ogre character very far, if at all. A character must have a Strength of 11 or better to be a half-ogre.
SPECIAL ABILITIES: Half-ogres have infravision and can see 60 feet in the dark. The use the same saving throws as dwarves. They may eat almost anything that isn't outright poisonous without ill effect, no matter how spoiled, moldy, or rotten. If a half-ogre slays a foe, and there is another foe also actively attacking the half-ogre, the half-ogre player gets an immediate attack on this second foe. Rinse and repeat until the half-ogre fails to slay or runs out of foes.
Monday, June 02, 2008
Playing with Magic
Finally!
This section took a lot longer to complete than I thought it would. It was fun, but it seriously taxed my imagination in some places. And I'm still not entirely satisfied with it.
I love playing magic-users and wizards and the like. They’ve always been my favorite classes. So I know how difficult the spell-slingers of Moldvay Basic have it. That said, I also prefer my magic to feel, well, magical. And dangerous. So I’m always looking for ways to tweak the mystery, power, and unease that should surround magic-users.
My solution for my Moldvay/Cook/LL hack was two-pronged. First, I stole a notion (and, in some cases, entire sentences) from James Maliszewski's ideas for minor magical effects. (You can find something similar in the first issue of Fight On!) But I didn't add just lesser powers to every spell your wizard might have prepped. I also added unpredictable side effects, inspired by the dangers of artifacts in 1st edition AD&D. This makes holding a prepped spell more useful, but also potentially dangerous. It makes magic-users dangerous people to have around. It adds to that sense that wizards command and channel the very forces of the universe, and that those powers do not always enjoy it, squirming in the wizard's spiritual grasp, ready to leap out and unleash themselves if the wizard's hold should ever weaken.
And yep, I did this for every spell. This is one of the areas where Moldvay/Cook really shines; there are only six levels of spells and a dozen spells at each level! That made this project manageable. If I'd tried to do this for 2nd edition, 72 spells wouldn't have gotten me through the first two levels of available magic-user spells.
This section took a lot longer to complete than I thought it would. It was fun, but it seriously taxed my imagination in some places. And I'm still not entirely satisfied with it.
I love playing magic-users and wizards and the like. They’ve always been my favorite classes. So I know how difficult the spell-slingers of Moldvay Basic have it. That said, I also prefer my magic to feel, well, magical. And dangerous. So I’m always looking for ways to tweak the mystery, power, and unease that should surround magic-users.
My solution for my Moldvay/Cook/LL hack was two-pronged. First, I stole a notion (and, in some cases, entire sentences) from James Maliszewski's ideas for minor magical effects. (You can find something similar in the first issue of Fight On!) But I didn't add just lesser powers to every spell your wizard might have prepped. I also added unpredictable side effects, inspired by the dangers of artifacts in 1st edition AD&D. This makes holding a prepped spell more useful, but also potentially dangerous. It makes magic-users dangerous people to have around. It adds to that sense that wizards command and channel the very forces of the universe, and that those powers do not always enjoy it, squirming in the wizard's spiritual grasp, ready to leap out and unleash themselves if the wizard's hold should ever weaken.
And yep, I did this for every spell. This is one of the areas where Moldvay/Cook really shines; there are only six levels of spells and a dozen spells at each level! That made this project manageable. If I'd tried to do this for 2nd edition, 72 spells wouldn't have gotten me through the first two levels of available magic-user spells.
Spells, Secondary Powers, and Residual Effects
1st Level
Secondary: +1 to moral for all who stand within 5’ of the wizard
Residual: all animals of a random type will be attracted to the wizard. They will congregate around the wizard and a few might even crawl up onto the wizard. Those of human intelligence or greater, or of giant size, are immune to this effect. Roll a d6:
1-2 felines
3-4 rodents
5 birds
6 spiders
Secondary: the wizard is aware of the presence of all magic owned or cast by the wizard that is within 5’.
Residual: all magic used by the wizard is accompanied by additional cosmetic effects which may be swirling auras of various colors, sounds, or even smells.
Secondary: the wizard sleeps hovering a foot off the ground in complete comfort.
Residual: the wizard has difficulty with stairs, and must roll under the wizard’s Dexterity score on 2d10 or trip and fall whenever attempting to climb or descend stairs.
Secondary: the wizard may cause any door or lid within a dozen feet to close. This doesn’t work if the door or lid is being propped or held open.
Residual: doors and lids stick in the wizard’s presence, necessitating a bit more effort to open.
Secondary: a fanciful aura of various colors can be conjured to dance around the wizard’s fingers.
Residual: a pale light glows from the wizard’s eyes. While this can’t be seen in bright light, in the dark they seem to glow like the red eyes of a rat.
Magic Missile
Secondary: while it does not confer any bonuses to hit or damage, any weapon the wizard wields can be counted as +1 per iteration of this spell prepared for purposes of hitting creatures immune to normal weapons, such at lycanthropes or vampires.
Residual: living creatures find the wizard’s touch unpleasant, even mildly painful.
Secondary: the wizard’s presence makes those nearby mindful of their misdeeds and stirs up the conscience. Those of normally good disposition will feel an urge towards contriteness, while those who embrace their wickedness will feel annoyed.
Residual: the effect is constant and so strong that people cannot stand to linger in the wizard’s presence, and all reaction checks are taken with a -1 penalty.
Secondary: the wizard is able to identify the culture that produced any writing the wizard can touch, so long as that culture is known to the wizard. If the culture is not known, then the wizard will only be able to identify the race of writer.
Residual: all objects with writing on them are agitated whenever the wizard passes by. Books and papers rustle as if whispering, signs creak, and metal rings softly. Only stone fixed firmly in the ground is immune.
Secondary: rain, snow, dust, and such other falling debris, too small or mild to actually cause damage, are deflected from the wizard.
Residual: the wizard’s sense of touch is dulled, and the wizard handles objects as if wearing extremely thick gloves. This may cause penalties for any tasks the wizard attempts which require manual dexterity, but does not affect spellcasting.
Secondary: those sleeping within 6’ of the wizard slumber soundly and peacefully.
Residual: the wizard is hard to rouse from sleep. For the first round after waking, the wizard is too groggy to act. If left alone, the wizard will sleep as many as a dozen hours before waking naturally.
Secondary: the wizard is able to whisper to anyone within a dozen feet without anyone else being able to hear what is said.
Residual: the wizard’s voice is distorted in a disturbing manner. This might merely make the wizard difficult to understand, but usually results in a -1 reaction penalty for anyone the wizard speaks to.
2nd Level
Secondary: the wizard is able to create a halo of auras that swirl around the wizard.
Residual: a part of the wizard’s body glows brightly enough to be seen in daylight, in a disturbing and eldritch manner. Roll a d6:
1-3 the eyes glow brightly
2-5 the fingers glow in such a way that leave swirls of after-images in the eye
6 the wizard’s heart glows brightly, so that if the wizard’s chest is bare, the workings of the heart and lungs can be seen through the skin.
Secondary: when faced with blatant, unquestionable evil, the wizard can discern something of its source after a round of concentration.
Residual: the wizard is affected by a mild paranoia.
Secondary: the wizard is especially aware of air currents and changes in light.
Residual: the wizard is constantly seeing things in the peripheral vision.
Secondary: the wizard is immediately aware of the moods of normal animals the wizard can see.
Residual: the wizard is powerfully affected the strong emotions of people who talk to the wizard, causing the wizard to share or be sympathetic to these emotions, even if the cause or circumstances are unknown.
Secondary: the wizard can cause the view of a single object within 6’ to be blurry and indistinct. While the object is still visible, fine details on it, such as writing or intricate designs, will be muddied and indecipherable.
Residual: the wizard’s range of vision is cut in half.
Secondary: any lid or door within 12’ feet of the wizard that is not locked, jammed, or held shut can be opened with a gesture.
Residual: doors, windows, lids, and other things that can be opened will rattle gently as the wizard passes by.
Secondary: any sand, snow, mud, or the like less than ankle deep will not impede the progress of the wizard.
Residual: objects have a tendency to leap from the wizard’s hands if the wizard isn’t careful. Whenever the wizard is distracted or in a hurry, apply a -1 Dexterity penalty to anything the wizard attempts.
Secondary: the wizard is exactingly aware of the location of every object the wizard can see.
Residual: the wizard is unable to shut out this information and it continually distracted by it. This may result in penalties against any mental activities the wizard attempts, at the discretion of the DM, but does not affect spellcasting or preparation.
Secondary: the wizard is able to conjure a cloak of visual illusions. These are not good enough to prevent anyone from recognizing the wizard, but they can be used to cause the casual observer to overlook the wizard as uninteresting.
Residual: the wizard has multiple shadows, some of which lag noticeably behind the wizard.
Secondary: the wizard is able to conjure simple shapes, symbols, or writing in the palm of the wizard’s hand.
Residual: the wizard is wreathed in disturbing shadows, auras, or wisps.
Secondary: the wizard can cause simple, light objects to stick to the wizard’s hand, so that they will not fall out. This can also be an aid I climbing, granting a +1 bonus.
Residual: everything sticks to the wizard’s hand, making it very difficult to put anything down and impossible to throw things.
Secondary: the wizard can cause any mundane lock that can be seen, within 12’ of the wizard, to lock, even if the key is not available.
Residual: random locks within a dozen feet of the wizard will lock on a roll of 1 on a 1d6.
3rd Level
Secondary: the wizard is able to see him or herself from any angle.
Residual: multiple views impose themselves on the wizard’s eyes, imposing a -1 penalty on all to-hit rolls with ranged weapons.
Secondary: any spells cast on the wizard have their durations cut in half.
Residual: any spells cast by the wizard have their durations cut in half.
Secondary: the wizard is able to ignite combustible materials within a 6’ of the wizard as if a small match has been held to them. Note that this only works on objects that will readily burn, like dry tinder, paper, or oil. Wet wood, large logs, most clothing, and all living creatures cannot be set on fire with this spell. However, lamp oil that’s been poured on any of these can be.
Residual: on a roll of 1 on a 1d20, any flammable object the wizard touches will burst into flames.
Secondary: the wizard may cause his or her hair and garments to float and ripple as if lifted by a strong breeze.
Residual: the wizard’s hair and clothing constantly float and ripple as if lifted by a strong breeze. Once per hour, a single object on the wizard’s person not strongly held or strapped down will fly into the air, being hurled 5d20 yards away.
Secondary: a common, simple task the wizard performs on very regular basis (at least once per day) can be performed at twice the normal speed. The wizard must be sitting still to perform this task, and must concentrate completely upon it, without interruption.
Residual: the wizard’s metabolism is sped up, and the wizard must consume 50% more food and drink than normal.
Secondary: the wizard is able to be perfectly, betraying no motion or sound, no matter how badly tickled or prodded, for up to one hour per level of the wizard.
Residual: the wizard moves 25% more slowly than normal.
Secondary: the wizard is able to see writing the wizard can hold in the hand even under very dim light. There must be at least starlight, however.
Residual: the wizard is extremely sensitive to light, and finds undiluted sunlight to be painful. This incurs a -1 to hit penalty on all to-hit rolls made by the wizard.
Secondary: the wizard can cause the view of all objects within 6’ to be blurry and indistinct. While the objects are still visible, fine details on them, such as writing or intricate designs, will be muddied and indecipherable.
Residual: the wizard is unable to see anything beyond 30’ away with any clarity.
Secondary: the wizard can weakly magnetize any ferrous object touched. This magnetism is strong enough only to move small objects. (It’s about on par with your common kitchen magnet.)
Residual: electricity crackles in the wizard’s hair, making it stand on end, and between the wizard’s fingers, constantly snapping and shocking anything or anyone touched.
Secondary: the wizard’s presence makes all who can see the wizard mindful of their misdeeds and stirs up the conscience. Those of normally good disposition will feel an urge towards contriteness, while those who embrace their wickedness will feel annoyed.
Residual: the effect is constant and so strong that people cannot stand to linger in the wizard’s presence. All affected have their reaction to the wizard and the wizard’s companions shifted one more level toward hostile.
Secondary: rain, snow, dust, and such other falling debris, too small or mild to actually cause damage, are deflected from the wizard.
Residual: all objects tossed to the wizard will swerve away, well before they come within reach.
Secondary: the wizard gains a +1 to all saves vs. gasses or other inhaled dangers.
Residual: the wizard is extremely susceptible to alcoholic drink, and will become inebriated twice as quickly as normal.
4th Level
Secondary: the wizard gets a +1 reaction bonus when interacting with non-hostile monsters.
Residual: -1 to all rolls for wandering monsters.
Secondary: the wizard can cause one individual of less than average intelligence to lose their train of thought and forget what they were talking about.
Residual: the wizard suffers a -2 penalty to saves vs. charming spells, confusions, and illusions.
Secondary: the wizard can cause any non-magical, non-living object that can be completely enclosed in a fist to switch from one hand to the other.
Residual: once per day, a small, non-magical, non-living object in the wizard’s possession vanishes. There is a 1 in 6 chance that it appears among the possessions of one of the wizard’s companions.
Secondary: plants personally tended by the wizard are especially healthy and fruitful.
Residual: grasses stepped on by the wizard suddenly become twice as lush as before, while flowering plants touched suddenly erupt with flowers.
Secondary: the wizard is able to create replica illusions of any terrain feature the wizard has seen before. These illusions may never be larger than 3 cubic feet in size.
Residual: the wizard’s vision is filled with mirages and the horizon shimmers and grows indistinct.
Secondary: the wizard gains a bonus to any attempts to hide in natural, outdoor settings.
Residual: the wizard’s hair sprouts illusionary leaves while the wizard’s words are accompanied by the singing of birds.
Secondary: the wizard is able to alter a single feature of any person touched (such as eye color or hair length, the shape of the nose, etc.) for up to one hour per level of the wizard. Only one such alteration per person is possible, though the wizard can alter as many people as the wizard has levels. These alterations are simple and purely cosmetic.
Residual: anyone the wizard touches with flesh-to-flesh contact must make a save vs. spells. If they fail, the person touched acquires an extra feature as generated by these two tables:
FEATURE
1: transformed eyes, roll on the species table for type
2: transformed ears, roll on the species table for type
3: transformed legs, roll on the species table for type
4: acquire tail, roll on the species table for type
5: acquire pair of small horns sprouting from the forehead
6: four tentacles sprout from the victim’s body. Each tentacle attacks one random person within a dozen feet of the victim, including possibly the victim. Each tentacle has 10% of the victim’s hit points. They can only be harmed by edged weapons, and are severed from the body when they’ve lost all their hit points. All damage done to the tentacles is also done to the victim.
SPECIES
1: canine
2: feline
3: bovine
4: equine
5: reptilian
6: avian
Secondary: the wizard is able to make minor, cosmetic changes, such as changing the color or length of the wizard’s hair, length and color of the nails, etc. The wizard is not able to mimic any particular individual, and any alteration that would require the reshaping of bones is not possible.
Residual: whenever the wizard casts a prepared spell of the highest level available to the wizard, the wizard must roll a save vs. spells or then roll on the transformation tables from the polymorph other spell. This transformation my only be undone by a remove curse cast by anyone other than the wizard.
Secondary: the wizard’s character may require any roll of the dice to be rerolled once per in-game day.
Residual: every time the wizard rolls a 20, some misfortune befalls the wizard, such as dropping their held weapon, their belt coming undone and falling to the ground, a bird poops on their head, etc.
Secondary: by intense concentration for a full round, the wizard is able to bring great heat to anything the wizard can hold in one hand. This heat is intense enough to cook food or cause water to boil.
Residual: the wizard’s flesh is feverish to the touch. The smell of burning follows the wizard while the wizard’s fingers leave smudges of ash on everything touched. The wizard takes double damage from fire attacks.
Secondary: by intense concentration for a full round, the wizard is able to chill anything that can be held in one hand. While it’s not cold enough to freeze water solid, it can put a thin layer of ice across the surface.
Residual: the wizards flesh is chill to the touch. Ice crystals from in the wizard’s eyelashes. The wizard takes double damage from cold attacks.
Secondary: the wizard has infravision up to a dozen feet (or out an additional 50% range for elves and others that already have infravision).
Residual: the wizard suffers -4 to all saves vs. gaze attacks.
Fifth Level
Secondary: the wizard can identify the species of any corpse touched.
Residual: the wizard suffers a -1 on the amount of hit points healed from any healing spell cast on the wizard.
Secondary: the wizard is able to kill small, non-magical, normal insects with tiny puffs of poisoned gas.
Residual: the wizard is surrounded by an odor so foul, the wizard suffers a -1 on all reaction rolls and nobody willingly stands closer than 6’.
Secondary: once per day, the wizard can summon a handful of one of the four elements. The air will be pure enough to breath, the fire will die if not quickly given a fuel source, the water is pure enough to drink, and the earth will be a sphere of granite or soft clay, wizard’s choice.
Residual: the wizard attracts the elements. The wizard’s clothes get dirty faster, or any breezes seemed directed at the wizard. The smoke from fires heads right for the wizard’s face. If there’s water around, it ends up in the wizard’s shoes.
Secondary: every night the wizard sleeps with this spell prepped, the spirit of the wizard will roam the higher planes. During these wanderings, there is a 1 in 20 chance of the PC learning a random new spell.
Residual: every night the wizard sleeps with this spell prepped, there is a 1 in 6 chance of the PC being struck insane. NOTE: this residual effect happens EVERY TIME the wizard tries to sleep with this spell prepared, no roll necessary. Contact higher plane is NOT the sort of spell you want banging around inside your head for long.
Secondary: once per day, the wizard can attempt a simple suggestion on an individual with average or lower intelligence. The target must be able to understand the wizard’s words and gets to roll a save vs. spells to resist. The suggestion cannot be more than a dozen words in length.
Residual: the wizard’s intelligence is lowered to 9.
Secondary: the wizard’s mount is able to be completely still and silent, so long as the wizard is in physical contact with the beast, for as many hours as the wizard has levels.
Residual: the wizard’s mount moves at half speed.
Secondary: the wizard has the ability to harm non-corporeal monsters with physical attacks, and has a +1 to hit and damage against them.
Residual: the wizard’s life-force is a bit unstuck. The wizard suffers a -2 to all saves vs. death.
Secondary: the wizard has a +1 to find secret doors (raising elves to 50% chance of discovering secret doors). The wizard can also more easily discover traps, tiny features, or cracks and weaknesses in a wall that is studied for at least one round.
Residual: every night the wizard sleeps in a place, the walls take a single point of structural damage.
Secondary: the wizard can levitate objects under a pound in weight that are within a dozen feet of the wizard.
Residual: once per hour, there’s a 1 in 6 chance of a random object weighing no more than 6 lbs within 24’ of the wizard hurling itself in a random direction for 1d6 feet per level of the wizard. If the object hits someone, it does 1d4 points of damage, unless it’s a weapon, in which case it will do 1d6 points of damage.
Secondary: the wizard is able to teleport a small object, one able to be hidden inside a fist, from a well-known location into the wizard’s hand. The well-known location should be someplace the wizard knows intimately. The wizard’s desk is such a place. The pouch of the frost giant sitting across the road isn’t. (Unless the wizard has actually spent a few days inside the giant’s pouch.)
Residual: once per day, there’s a 1 in 8 chance of a random, small, non-magical object being teleported from the wizard’s possession to a random destination.
Secondary: once per day, the wizard is able to draw a mouthful of water from bare stone.
Residual: where ever the wizard touches or steps on bare stone, a paper-thin amount of the stone is turned into mud.
Secondary: once per day, the wizard is able to conjure a fist-sized granite block in any basic shape the wizard chooses, so long as it doesn’t have more sides than the wizard has levels. (For purposes of this spell, round objects have a single side.)
Residual: a wake of stone dust trails the wizard.
Sixth Level
Secondary: the wizard enjoys a +1 save vs. all magical effects.
Residual: the targets of any of the wizard’s magic, whether by spell, scroll, or magic item, enjoy a +2 bonus to saves against it.
Secondary: the wizard is immune from the effects of natural heat or cold. Rain and snow also will not touch the wizard, while normal winds will not even muss the wizard’s hair. However, lightning, flood, tornadoes and similar dangerous weather is still dangerous.
Residual: there is a 1 in 6 chance per day of the normal weather where the wizard is turning extreme. A warm day will become swelteringly hot, rain will turn to downpour, while chill winds will turn bitter cold. The effect will be the extreme of what might normally be expected, but not to the point of raising hurricanes or obviously magical effects.
Secondary: the wizard is able to kill small vermin, such as insects or non-dangerous, tiny rodents at will, one per hour.
Residual: grass curls up and browns under the wizard’s feet, small plants touched whither and die, and the wizard’s mount takes 1 point of damage per hour while the wizard is riding it.
Secondary: the wizard can banish non-magical, non-predatory dust, grime, mildew, or grease, over a 10’ x 10’ area, once per day.
Residual: once per day, there’s a 1 in 8 chance of one random non-magical object the wizard wears or carries falling apart as if from the effects of great age or wear-and-tear.
Secondary: the wizard gets a +1 bonus to any dice rolls for haggling or persuasion.
Residual: the wizard is afflicted with a compulsive behavior chosen by the DM. Such compulsive behaviors might be always speaking in rhyme, only turning left, carefully lining up all food and arranging it by color and type before eating, etc.
Secondary: the wizard can sense the presence of invisible stalkers, though is unable to pinpoint their exact location.
Residual: once per day, there’s a 1 in 20 chance of an invisible stalker tracking the wizard down and attempting an assassination to prevent the use of magic to enslave its brethren.
Secondary: the wizard is able to dry anything that’s had water spilled on it, or has been soaked in rain or other non-magical liquid.
Residual: fluids retreat from the wizard’s approach. This makes it impossible for the wizard to wash or drink.
Secondary: the wizard is able to banish mundane dirt from clothing, the body, or other objects.
Residual: dirt (but not stone) ripples like water where ever the wizard steps. This has no effect on anyone’s ability to stand upright, nor is it able to harm large structures, though small objects might be tumbled or shaken.
Secondary: the wizard is able to force a volume of water no larger than a single cup per level of the wizard into whatever shape is desired. The water will retain that shape only for as long as the wizard wills it. As it’s still water, it behaves like a liquid in all other respects, making it completely unsuitable for use as a ladder or lever, for instance, unless it is frozen while the wizard maintains concentration.
Residual: fluids retreat from the wizard’s approach. This makes it impossible for the wizard to wash or drink.
Secondary: the wizard is able to create a visual illusion up to a single cubic foot in volume of any person or thing the wizard has seen. It exists only so long as the wizard concentrates on it.
Residual: the wizard’s eyes turn glassy and emotionless. An air of aloofness and distance surrounds the wizard. The wizard suffers a -2 to reaction checks, while the wizards henchmen and followers suffer a -1 to moral.
Secondary: the wizard can see one past life of any person touched.
Residual: the wizard’s dreams are plagued by images of past lives. Sleep provides no rest; while the wizard is able to memorize spells as normal, no hit point damage is healed and diseases linger up to twice their normal span.
Secondary: the wizard is able to petrify one non-magical creature small enough to fit in the wizard’s hand per day.
Residual: any food meat the wizard touches turns to stone. The wizard must subsist on a vegetarian diet.
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