Sunday, 10 June 2012

Combat Level

Sulu's, sir. One of 'em!
I generally don't use the combat tables in the DMG any more, having re-written them some time ago to make armour versus weapon modifiers easier to use. I'm not going to go into that system right now, but since I mentioned Combat Level (CL) in the stat blocks for the Weeping Medusa I thought I'd explain the basic system (without weapon Vs armour) here.

"Combat Level" appears in the DMG as well as its synonym "Combat Ability".

Combat level is simply a number representing the level of fighter that something fights as. So a 5th level cleric has a basic combat level of 3. A 4th level fighter with a +1 to hit from strength and +2 from a magical sword has a combat level of 7.

In a standard combat, the attacker rolls 1d20 and adds their combat level to the die and the DM then adds the target's AC to that. If the result is 21 or more, it's a hit. Any roll of 20 is counted as 25.

If combat level is so high that a figure can't miss, then they hit automatically with a bonus to damage equal to (CL+AC-21), so a 15th level fighter attacking someone with no armour will do 4 points of extra damage per hit.

My original PDF with more details is here, but here's some tables of combat level as well:

Monster HDCL
<1-10
1-11
12
1+3
2-3+5
4-5+6
6-7+8
8-9+9
10-11+11
12-13+12
14-15+13
16-17+14
18-19+16
20-21+17
22-23+18
24-25+19
26+20

Cleric LvCL
1-31
4-63
7-95
10-127
13-159
16-1811
19+12

Thief LvCL
1-40
5-82
9-125
13-167
17-209
21+11

MU LvCL
1-50
6-102
11-155
16-208
21+10

Magic Wands

Archmage Sooty
doesn't need verbal
components.
The generic magic wand comes in several variations:

The Cantrip Wand
This allows the casting of any cantrip the magic user or illusionist knows without need for memorization. If there is a verbal component then it must still be used. casting times are unaffected but of course the cantrip can not be interrupted.

(M, I), 5000gp/1500xp

The Verbal Wand
This allows the casting of any spell the user has memorized but without the need of a verbal component.

(M, I, D), 10000gp/2000xp

The Material Wand
Allows the casting of any currently memorized spell without the need for a material component. Each use expends one charge per level of the spell cast.

(M, I) 14000gp/4000xp

The Magic Wand
Combines the Cantrip, Verbal, and Material wands so that spell casting becomes a case of simply waving the wand appropriately. If the wand is used to replace a material component then it will expend one charge per level of the spell cast.

(M, I) 40,000gp/5000xp

All these wands are rechargeable and will be found with 1d20+80 charges.

Note
These wands represent a different type of magic from the Vancian casting of AD&D and if used widely they will change the nature of the gameworld, so think about it before placing even the cantrip wand. I've set the values quite high, but even so they may be a bit low given the impact they might make on a campaign.

Island Encounter: The Weeping Medusa

Location: A small island off the normal trade routes; out of sight of other land.

Possible hooks: Storm blows ship off course; patron hires PCs to look for princess; PCs find clue to location of Johydee's Mask (DMG p158); random encounter while exploring sea area.

Monsters: Four gargoyles (MM p42), one unique medusa (see below).

Special Treasure: Map/clue to Johydee's mask (DM's responsibility, not provided).

Other treasure: 1200sp, gems and jewellery worth ~15,000gp.

Backstory: Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess who fell afoul of an evil and jealous stepmother who wanted her natural daughter to inherit the throne. She hated the princess but her own daughter would not co-operate with a plan to kill her, so she "sent her away" alive. She was able to swear that the princess was still alive somewhere and so assuage her daughter's guilt enough to allow it to be outweighed by her greed. The King was charmed so as to not ask too many questions and the search for the princess was half-hearted and trailed off with an official explanation that she must have drowned while swimming in the lake, although she was known as a strong swimmer.

In fact, she was doubly cursed by her stepmother who transformed her into a medusa and laid a spell of confuse languages on her so that she would be unable to explain to anyone that she was not the evil monster that she seemed. She was taken away to a distant and uninhabited pair of islands where she is guarded by four gargoyles (naturally immune to her petrifying gaze) bound to keep her alive on the islands and kill anyone who attempted to rescue her.

The princess's fiancée eventually uncovered clues to her fate and, armed with knowledge of the location of Johydee's mask (which renders gaze attacks harmless) he set out to rescue her. Along the way he was captured by pirates who misinterpreted his map and sailed to the island of the weeping medusa where they met a stony fate. The remains of the pirates' treasure remains mingled in with the wreckage of their ship.

Time frame: The DM must decide on the time that has passed since the above storyline; it should probably be at least a year but could be thirty or forty. Which it is will affect how useful the map is to the players, should they find it. The medusa form is effectively immortal, as are the gargoyles.

Start point: Assuming a voluntary landing, if at night there is a chance (30%) that the medusa is eating and her cooking fire is seen. Otherwise, the island appear fairly bare and uninteresting unless seen from the south east in which case the wrecked pirate ship may attract attention, or from the north when there is a 20% chance in daytime of seeing the medusa herself walking on the shore. Perhaps the PCs have been hired to look for the princess or her prince. Otherwise, there's no specific reason the sight of the islands should cause a landing unless it is a search for supplies.

If a ship looks like it is coming in to land (ie, is approaching and is within a mile or so), at least one of the gargoyles will see it and make the alarm call to alert the others. This sounds something like a huge torrent of water gurgling down a deep drain. Other than this, the gargoyles will make no obvious action until a boat has anchored or beached; preferring to trap the crew on shore where they can rip them limb from limb.

The Medusa
The medusa form is slightly different from the standard AD&D one and more like the mythical one. Firstly, the medusa is unharmed by non-magical weapons of any sort. Secondly, the reflection of her gaze has no effect on her or anything else. However, like the AD&D medusa, she can not fly.

She wears goatskin (her flimsy royal silks having long ago succumbed to the weather and the many sharp edges of the stony island. When she first realised what had happened to her she wore a blindfold so as to not accidentally petrify any would-be rescuer. When the pirates came she quickly realised that they were not trying to rescue her and with the help of the gargoyles she turned them all to stone through fear and frustration. She no longer wears the blindfold but will attempt to keep out of reach of anyone who lands on the island until she can decide what they want. If simply chased and cornered, she will assume the worst and unleash her powers in self-defence.

Her alignment is neutral and her only treasure is a platinum and jade armband which is worth about 8gp if melted down but would fetch a price of 1700gp from a collector interested in what is obviously a ancient and royal jewel.

Beehive Stone Cells
Her home is a stony area near the highest point of the main island ("M")where she has rebuilt the remains of some long-forgotten hermit's cell and put some low stone walls up as a wind break. From a the distance there is no sign of life about these things and they are overgrown with weeds.

Most days, she wanders the northern shore for a while, pondering and weeping over her fate. She is humanoid but with a body that is covered in thick scales (treat as scalemail). She wears a hood to keep her snakes docile and quiet and from behind looks somewhat like the attractive young woman she once was (and still is if transformed back).


Her now-reptilian metabolism means she eats very little and finds it tiring to move about in the cold or at night - 6" move rate.

Stats: AC: 5 (as scale); HD 6 (CL 8); Move 9"; Attacks: 1; Man-sized; +1 or better to hit, poison, gaze petrifies to 3" distance, can see and affect ethereal and astral beings. Total xp: 912
Bite (+poison): 1-4; HP: 27


The Gargoyles
The four gargoyles station themselves at the points marked North, South, East, and West.

They hunt on the small island for the princess when she is hungry (which they can detect as part of the magic that binds them to protect her from harm, including suicide and simply starving herself), catching a goat every now and then and killing it so that she can cook it without it turning to stone.

The gargoyles are evil and delight in smashing the statues that the princess makes, whether they are birds she glances at when they surprise her with their singing or goats that stick their heads into her cell to look for shelter from a storm, or the 154 pirates looking for a fortune.

They can fly reasonably well (class C) and can attack from the air with either their horn (damage 1-4) or claws (1-3/1-3). They will probably initially resort to dropping stones on any boat, to sink it in shallow water, hitting random targets if they are densely packed on deck but mainly hoping to put a hole in the bottom as they did with the pirate boat.

Each stone dropped will do 1-3 hull points (DMG p54) of damage and 6d6 damage should it strike a person on deck (save for no damage; dexterity applies). The gargoyles need 13+ to hit a medium sized ship from their attack height of 60'. If forced to fly higher by defensive fire, then give them -1 to hit per 10'. Remember that they are +1 or better to hit, so normal arrows etc. will not drive them back.

Manoeuvre  class drops from C to D when carrying any load. They can carry the princess in a pinch at class E and a maximum speed of 12", but they are bound to keep her within a furlong (22" in game terms) of the islands' coasts.

One gargoyle will remain with the princess at all times of threat, despite the fact that generally they are over-confident in their immunity to weapons; if the princess ever managed to exceed a furlong from the coast of the island, their binding spell would be broken and they would return to wherever they were summoned from.

Stats: AC: 5; HD: 4+4 (CL 6); Move: 9"/15"; attacks: 4; small (hp<20) or man-sized; +1 or better to hit. Total xp: 761
Claw/Claw/Bite/Horn: 1-3/1-3/1-6/1-4; HP: 28,17, 17, 19

Boat Area
The Pirate Ship
The ship is about 60' long and resembles a Viking longboat with a small poop deck at the rear where a helms man would have used a steering board (on the starboard side, obviously). The ship lays in shallow water with most of the hull visible at low tide. Anyone clambering into it will find the inside overrun with seaweed. Inspection will demonstrate that there are several major holes in the bottom.

The poop deck is in whatever state of decay that suits the time the ship has been here and under it is the remains of the captain's small cabin, no less seaweed and barnacle encrusted than any other part of the ship. A casual glance into this space shows it to contain a few old brass instruments and rotten clothes. A very careful, lit search of this room at low tide will reveal that under marine growth, limpets, and about a foot of water is a 2' tall statue of a sea god made from platinum and gems. Not especially artistic, the statue is worth about 12,000gp (and very heavy - 220lbs) as bullion and gems.

Scattered about the ship are silver pieces from the sailors' personal belonging. There is 1000sp in the boat but some sort of magical process would be needed to get it all, or an almost complete disassembly of the boat itself. Each turn of searching will produce 1d6 sp and has a 10% chance of unearthing a gem or jewel from the following list. Each can only be found once (duplicate rolls are non-finds) and no more than 6 items can be found (the remaining four have washed away):
  1. Azurite - 10gp value
  2. Large carved jade, chipped - 100gp
  3. Large carved coral - 500gp
  4. Gold earrings - 10gp
  5. 1d6 Pearls (100gp each)
  6. 1 Black pearl (500gp)
  7. Wrought gold filigree broach with coral insets - 1,600gp
  8. Gold sword hilt with rubies (no blade) - 3,000gp
  9. Silver drinking goblet with diamond armorial design - 2000gp
  10. Large violet garnet - seems 500gp but when examined by gemsmith or merchant is only 100gp.
There are signs of other treasure such as tapestries and similar material taken from merchant ships but these are rotten and worthless now.

The Pirate Statues
The area around the ship, and within it, is littered with the smashed stone corpses of the men who were killed by the medusa and the gargoyles. As one goes further from the ship these become less frequent but there is still a macabre feeling as one walks about that there has been a mass slaughter and that body parts have been scattered about the landscape (which is, of course, true).

The Cove Area
On the north-west of the main island are two headless statues cowering in a small cove (C), their hands thrown up to protect themselves as they huddled with their backs pressed to the wall. Unnoticed by the gargoyles, these two pirates had attempted to make a break for it with some of their possessions - a small locked chest. Inside there is about 200sp, two gems (an ornimental Rhodochrosite, and a  semi-precious Bloodstone - dice for value as needed) and a map.

The Islands
The two islands are dry and scrubby, with just about enough in the way of trees to provide shelter and food for a few dozen goats of varying ages. There are a few seasonal springs and the old monastic/hermitage collection of beehive cells where the princess currently resides has a small pond outside carved into the stone of the hillside which generally contains water all year around (boil before drinking). The landscape itself is unvarying scrub, olive trees, and cacti, so the maps just show elevation. The lightest yellow band on the attached maps show the range of the tides and the other colours show height in steps of 30'. The gargoyles at their stations have a horizon of about 7 miles (assuming an Earth-like world).
Medusa's "Lair" area


As well as eating the goats, the princess has also taken up fishing but even though she tries to land and kill the fish with her eyes closed there are a fair number of stone fish in little piles around the beaches.

At low tide, the smaller island can be reached by wading across in water waist-deep for an adult male human.

The Pirate's Map
This is a suggestion based on what I rolled up from the DMG; change it to something that fits if it is unsuitable but the map should lead to a guarded treasure of at least 45,000gp value in a monster's lair 30-40 miles away:

The map shows the islands of the medusa and some land to the east with a point marked on a mountain. There is text in a language which should correspond in your campaign to what Latin was in the 17th century on Earth - a language widely used by the educated but not commonly spoken any more. An accurate translation of this indicates that the islands are to be the second port of call after visiting the "Master of Gold Dragons" in his stronghold with the gift of "the statue" in return for the loan of the Mask of Johydee. This guardian is in fact an old gold dragon in human form, living the life (and with the abilities) of an 8th level monk with the standard followers for his level. His monastery-fortress contains his dragon treasure as well as the famous artefact. He is lawful good and his aim is to keep the mask away from those who would do evil with it. He is known to sometimes loan it out for short periods to those who are of his own alignment and who show a appropriate levels of sacrifice (ie, bring him something to add to his hoard); the price varies depending on how worthy he deems the cause. Monks of 8th level or higher will recognize him for what he is and treat him as separate from the normal hierarchy (ie, he doesn't count as the local 8th level monk who must be defeated in combat).


The map merely mentions "Master Gin-ti" as those using it knew who he was and makes no mention of his true nature (which they did not know) or even the monastery as such. The point of the map was to show the medusa islands, a fact which along with a bad translation doomed the pirates who captured it.

Notes
That's the situation at the start of the encounter. The main thing the DM needs to decide upon is how long it is since the pirates landed and were killed. If it was, say, 40 years ago, then even if the princess is somehow rescued it is unlikely to have much effect in the campaign as those who might have supported her will be dead. If it was just last year, then there is the potential for all sorts of political shenanigans in the wake of her story being revealed in whatever country you decide to place her background.

Likewise, names are left to the DM to decide based on personal style/setting.

A soft-hearted DM may find that the seemingly lost prince charming is an intact statue in the captain's cabin of a bound and blindfolded prisoner who might be restored to flesh and blood. Or not, as the case may be.

The main treasure is intentionally difficult to find and even if found it will be a burden rather than a reward until it can be disposed of properly. It is left to the DM to decide if anyone is looking for this statue which is probably looted from a temple somewhere.

Meta-Notes
This was an experiment in putting a simple encounter up on the blog; as usual I've written much more than I planned and the maps are a bit disappointing and a lot less detailed than they would be if I drew them with a pencil on paper. I've used a one-mile hex and a couble of one-furlong hexes (the two smaller sizes in my imperial Campaign Map Book) and if you print the latter out on an A3 page then they should be directly usable as one hex translates directly to 1 inch for movement, ranges etc. Using a few bits of Lego as markers for where gargoyles and PCs are should be easy enough.

The encounter is not meant to be a "scenario" as such, just something to throw in as an encounter at sea. There's not nearly enough happening on  the islands to take up a full play session, but the implications of what the players find may lead on to other things.

Tuesday, 5 June 2012

Die or Save

The well known phrase or saying "save or die" is an example of how something can creep into the language and become accepted and widely used and yet express exactly the opposite of the real situation (the common use of "crunch" for rules and "fluff" for the important stuff is another example).

There is no "Save or Die" mechanic in OD&D or AD&D.

Not the DM's Fault
What actually happens is that the character is in a situation where they face certain death (or whatever) - a dragon breathes on them or a giant scorpion stinger hits them. At this point, all seems lost. BUT! They get a chance to somehow avoid or at least mitigate the effects.

This is a classic situation in the fantasy that forms the roots of the game - the villain casts a dire spell and is astounded as the hero resists it; or the supposed poison only incapacitates the victim or is shrugged off.

Saving throws and hit points represent that particular type of author's favour that allows the central characters to get out of "impossible" scrapes or survive against massive odds. As the characters rise in level they become more and more central and gain more favour. Thus, there is no direct connection between a character's ability scores and their saves (other than some flat bonuses) - Frodo saves well because he's important in a metagame sense rather than by dint of high ability scores or other in-game reasons.

The phrase "Save or Die" is really part of the mythos of the legendary Killer DM (much spoke of; seldom encountered) in early gaming fostered by those who have "contemporary design sensibilities". The two go together because a DM who wants to can arbitrarily declare anything a "sudden death" situation - falling down the stairs; eating mushrooms; climbing a wall. S/he can put poisonous snakes in the beds of the inn or giant spiders in the PC's coach. Of course s/he can!

The fact that AD&D doesn't have a rule that says they shouldn't doesn't change the fact that the players can up and leave because the DM is a moron. There's no rule against being a killer DM but there's no rule to say that anyone has to put up with it either.

But the problem with putting rules in to control such a DM is that you end up with rules that limit all DMs while the bad ones will just find other ways to be annoying (there's an infinite supply).

The saving throw mechanic is part of a players' ability to make a judgement - if I do this I have a chance to make it. The alternatives should be obvious and top of the list is "run away" or at least "don't do that". The player knows that the touch of a ghoul paralyses or that a medusa's gaze will turn them to stone or that a room full of gigantic cobwebs might mean poisonous spiders and that might mean poisonous bites. It only becomes "Save or Die" when the DM (and not the player) eliminates the choice of facing the danger.

Of course, the players don't know what's around the corner much of the time but that's just another way of saying "we're not scouting very well". Whether you're in a "funhouse" dungeon or a more logically balanced scenario the party that allows their fate to be determined by random rolls without trying to minimise the number of those crucial rolls is responsible for throwing away the charatcers, not the DM. Calling the act of repeatedly and blindly putting your head in the lion's mouth "save or die" is to put the cause and effect the wrong way around.

Later editions of the game gradually moved away from true exploring towards a bland conveyor belt of combat. The game system took on responsibility for producing encounters which the character party could face with a set level of danger. The players no longer had to worry about making sure that they were not walking into a deathtrap - instead, deathtraps were made illegal. Ultimately we end up with fourth edition which is simply a sort of chess on steroids battle system, with even the roleplaying reduced to a bunch of dice rolls in the "Skill Challenge" system. I'm not sure where the "challenge" is in that, unless it's to avoid RSI from the dice rolling.
Satire

It's a testament to the standards of players out there today that this attempt has failed both strategically (the game was a flop) and tactically (many players who do play 4e have hacked this sort of rubbish out of it). Players - yes, even youngsters of the "entitlement generation" as many Grognards refer to them - actually don't want their minotaur delivered in a box for free XP, even the ones that like tactical skirmish games. Which is probably a good thing for imaginative DM's everywhere who want to invent actual challenges for their players to try overcoming; there still is an audience for that sort of play.

Sunday, 3 June 2012

The Way of Weird

Weird
There's a lot of talk at the moment about "Weird Fantasy" (not the magazine) and I've been looking at some of the examples. Probably the most well known at the moment are Jim Raggi's Lamentation of the Flame Princess and Geoffrey McKinney's work in Carcosa and Isle of the Unknown. Certainly these two have been very open about wanting to produce Weird Fantasy. The problem arises: what is "weird" in a fantasy world?

Raggi has generally marked out the unique monster as the touchstone of the sub-genre and I first heard of him via his Random Esoteric Creature Generator (or possibly his "I hate fun" essay; I can't remember which exactly) which had the express purpose of obviating the need for a "monster manual" by having every monster be different. Likewise, LotFP has no book of monsters and all the monsters on the Raggi-produced Isle of Adventure are unique.

I don't feel this is a productive approach to the question of weirdness in the game world. Partly this is because it's a lot of work to keep coming up with new monsters for every single encounter, but also because I think is is actually counter-productive; the weird simply becomes mundane.

The "weird" is that which is outside the norm; the things that stand out from the background. But that background need not be like our world nor lack the existence of re-occurring monster types.

Not Weird
When a PC is walking down a main street of a city in Tsolyanu in M. A. R. Barker's Tekumel, s/he will bargain with insectoid Pe Choi, engage in frustrating lingual difficulties with four-legged two-armed literal-minded Tinaliya and attempt to avoid the dung of the four-faced Ahoggya. None of this is weird, on Tekumel.

Once the underworld is entered, however, things change. Ancient crypts may contain anything from sentient clouds of eyes to incarnated weapons in the form of women whose kisses incinerate their lovers, to mouths with hairy legs. But all interspersed with "ordinary monsters" and human cultists as well as the various non-human races and alien technology.

Every campaign needs some bread-and-butter monsters and the repetitiveness of many supposedly unique monsters simply points up how hard it is to be original every time. AD&D's hoardlings and Glorantha's Broo actually become quite dull after a while as their randomness becomes their most distinctive characteristic. When everything is weird, nothing is.

To me the key to a good Weird Fantasy campaign is indeed uniqueness, but used sparingly; less than once per scenario. The background and its patterns of what counts as normal needs to be firmly established so that the players can genuinely feel a shock when those patterns are broken.

I've only managed to frighten players a couple of times at the table, and both times were by the use of unique monsters but the fact is that they only knew they were dealing with something unique and weird because they had internalized the rest of the fantasy world with its orcs and owlbears and so on; there was an established style which allowed their expectations to be undercut effectively.

It is possible to build a fantasy world where all monsters are unique but I think the only way to pull it off is to replace monsters generally with people - evil high priests, magicians, and lots of 0-level minion types - rather than to simply generate dozens of singular monsters and go on as if nothing had changed.

Interestingly, many of the monsters in the monster manual reflect this too, in that many of them are drawn from "real" myth and were originally imagined as being unique. The catoblepas was Weird Fantasy in the 16th century. The one and only chimera was a bizarre and unsettling combination of impossible characteristics 21 centuries before that.

But if I were to pick out one MM monster that has fallen the furthest from its Weird Fantasy original, it would be the minotaur.

The story of the minotaur is horrific and perverted in many ways. We tend to think of the Greek myths as something rather highbrow, but many of them are nothing more than horror stories obviously invented with the same aim as The Exorcist - a thin layer of religious moralizing used to excuse some gore and thrills.

So, Daedalus builds a fake cow for the queen of Crete to climb into so she can have sex with a bull. Depending on where you learned about the Minotaur this is either a bit of a shock, or you're so used to it as a part of the story that you don't really think about it. Think about it now; imagine it's a real news item about your own queen or first lady or whatever you have in your country. Imagine people's reaction.

But, hey, it gets better. The queen gets pregnant and has the child. It's half human and half bull (which half is which, is surprisingly not completely agreed upon in antiquity but the bull-headed version is the most popular); let that delivery room scene play out in your head for a moment too (and the version where the head is human too, why not?).

No longer weird
So baby Asterion (as he was named) is locked up in a maze "with convoluted flexitions that disorders debouchment" (ie, a maze of twisty little passages, all alike) and was fed human women to keep him alive for "religious reasons".

The Minotaur is a layer cake of freakishness piled on freakishness and the effect in the mind's eye of the listener at the plays written about it was exactly the one desired by Weird Fantasy writers - the skin crawling, hair-raising feeling of wrongness.

Yet the minotaur (little 'm') is one of the most tired and mundane of all fantasy tropes today, IMO. In many settings players can play a minotaur, meet other minotaurs, settle down, raise little minotaurs and run for mayor of Bullpen (pop. 103). About as bland a "monster" as one can imagine.

The minotaur illustrates two sides of the coin: the original shows what the essence of the Weird is - the feeling of wrongness that can be evoked even in a real world where real people believe that nature spirits inhabit practically every glade and hill and gods walk the Earth in human guise almost daily. Being supernatural is not Weird in itself, and you can have a deeply supernatural world of wonders without having to make everything unique.

On the other hand, uniqueness is vital to the Weird in that familiarity inevitably erodes shock. "Blink" was one of the best Doctor Who episodes of recent years; "Time of Angels" wasn't. The minotaur is a warning to everyone who thinks they can recapture the original atmosphere of a monster by bringing it back, especially bringing it back in numbers. What you get the second time is not Weird any more, no matter how dangerous you make it.

You Say "Contemporary", I Say "Decadent Crap". Let's Call the Whole Thing Off.

From the Diana Jones Award 2012 nominations page:
If you're looking for a big system that can stand up to long-term campaign play as well as D&D but is designed with contemporary design sensibilities, BWG is the game for you.
The Burning Wheel system has introduced a host of design innovations over the years. A few examples: with the fail forward mentality a missed die roll isn't a failure, it's an unexpected outcome; instead of the GM designing adventures, players direct the action by listing their beliefs and what they intend to do about them; players can make world-setting contributions by creating NPCs using the Circles mechanic or historical facts using the Wises mechanic; and players develop rich character concepts using an elaborate (and fun) Lifepaths mechanic reminiscent of Traveller.
I don't think I could sum up what's wrong with "contemporary design sensibilities" any better than the above list. Of course "contemporary design sensibilities" is code for "better" in whatever field it appears in, often about 5 years before those sensibilities are thrown out and regarded as brain-dead crap by the next wave.

Design sensibilities are subjective and "contemporary" or "modern" or "avant garde" are just stamps people stick on them to make them sound objective. By dint of being subjective, of course, there are always people who don't agree with them - often quite contemporary people.

Saturday, 2 June 2012

I Love Islands (true)

I have a thing for islands. I can honestly say that there are islands in JG's wilderness campaign I still dream about today, 30 years after first reading about them. Apart from the romance of the isolated setting, which captures in itself a lot of the romance of fantasy role-playing itself (ie, getting away from the world), islands have a lot going for them as scenario settings. To wit:

  • Space with limits. An island may be from less than one to several dozen square miles. That's a lot of room, probably with resources to find and use, perhaps allies to befriend and strange artefacts to discover and attempt to decode for clues. But at the same time, if a demonic monkey is hunting you, the island is still an island and you're going to have to find a solution to the monkey at some point.
  • In-game rationales. Islands are a prefect excuse for stuff laying around for centuries unnoticed, or for weird monsters (that can't swim) to be roaming without the local bigwigs sorting it out, or for freakish and bizarre governments or cults that have been unmolested by concerned neighbours.
  • Lack of reinforcements. The PCs can't simply "phone the police"; if there's a situation then they have to deal with it. The space on the island may give them more breathing space than in a dungeon but the setting gives a certain amount of focus and impetus.

When used as the setting for the very first scenario for a group of new characters the shipwrecked trope is one of my favourites as, in addition to the above, a shipwreck also:

  • Explains why a group of potentially very different characters are together; even allowing for alignment combinations that would not work in other situations.
  • Gives the characters an automatic sub-plot to deal with in that they presumably want to find a way off the island and back home but have lost the one they had (ie, the ship).

Of course, in a fantasy, islands need not be land surrounded by sea. They may be land floating in a sky, over a sea of fire; or pumice on lava; or ice on sea; or Law in Chaos; or settled land in the midst of a thick, vicious jungle ruled by Nazi ents sworn to the extermination of grass and the lower life-forms that feed on it. They could even be shrinking bubbles of reality in a cloud of extra-dimensional dreams. Whatever they are, of course, they need not be there the next time the characters come by that way.

Islands formed the core of Sinbad's adventures, Conan had a few of his most memorable adventures on islands, and they naturally figured very prominently in Greek myths. Islands make excellent places to put the weird (of which I'll write a bit more next time) and certainly make good "beyond the borders" areas. They can give a scenario a direction while leaving the players enough options to avoid an outright railroad.

Once the characters are higher level and can start teleporting or using magical air transport, the appeal of islands as setting diminishes as their isolation is diminished, but they still retain a romantic air of "what if" about them where things stranger than the norm, even for a fantasy campaign, can be encountered and interacted with.
"At last they stood on the ultimate pinnacle, their hair stirring in the sea wind. From their feet the cliffs fell away sheerly three or four hundred feet to a narrow tangle of woodlands bordering the beach. Looking southward they saw the whole island lying like a great oval mirror, its bevelled edges sloping down swiftly into a rim of green, except where it broke in the pitch of the cliffs. As far as they could see, on all sides stretched the blue waters, still, placid, fading into dreamy hazes of distance.
"The sea is still," sighed Olivia. "Why should we not take up our journey again?"
Conan, poised like a bronze statue on the cliffs, pointed northward. Straining her eyes, Olivia saw a white fleck that seemed to hang suspended in the aching haze." Robert E. Howard "Shadows in Moonlight"
"Hex 0229 Isle of Greysend-A shipwrecked squadron of charmed knights who have married all of the goblin women" Wilderlands of High Fantasy, Map Two: Barbarian Altanis