Long-time readers may remember three posts I wrote about using reaction dice to build the game world (here, here and here). I still intend to expand on this idea a lot in New Troy. But I am also 'piloting' minor elements of it for The Valleys of the Winter People. In this setting, the men in remote mountains form roaming bands of bear hunters in the winter, the matagi, who gradually revert to a semi-wild state when on the hunt. If they catch and kill a bear, they return to civilization triumphant. If they fail, they gradually become bears themselves.
In encounters with the matagi in the wild, the DM rolls a reaction dice as normal, but this determines both the reaction of the hunters and their current state, which is linked. Hence:
2-3 Attack: The matagi are almost entirely in a feral state - a sliver away from tipping past the point of beyond return. Their senses are all preternaturally heightened, meaning they are not surprised, and they are aware of the PCs from d100 yards away. Their only interest in the PCs is as prey, but they do retain enough sentience to be capable of communication.
4-6: Aggressive: The matagi are a mixed group, who have been long on the hunt without success. 1/3 are fully human, 1/3 are semi-feral, and 1/3 are entirely feral. The senses of the semi-feral and feral members are heightened, as for the 'Attack' result, and these will target the PCs as prey; the other members of the group may be reasoned with and can control the remainder if they are persuaded to do so.
7-9: Cautious: The matagi have been hunting for some weeks without success. They are largely fully-human, but have 1-2 semi-feral members with them. The semi-feral members will not target the PCs as prey without the permission of the full humans. The senses of the semi-feral members are heightened as for the 'Attack' and 'Aggressive' results.
10-11: Neutral: The matagi have recently begun their hunt. They are fully human, and cautious but not aggressive. They are surprised on a roll of 1 and the encounter distance is standard.
12: Friendly. The matagi are returning from a successful hunt. They have a killed or captured bear with them (50% chance of either) and are in exceptionally good spirits; they are surprised on a roll of 1-2 rather than 1, and are on their way back to a random village (1 - Odose; 2 - Shariki; 3 - Bihoro; 4 - Komakai). The encounter distance is standard.
Tuesday, 27 February 2018
Wednesday, 21 February 2018
What is the Blogosphere for now? New Modes of Play
Zak S recently put a post up on G+ (which I hope he won't mind me paraphrasing and quoting from) to the effect the OSR or DIY D&D or whatever you want to call it has been a success: it has its own momentum now and it has actually become possible for people to simply make things and publish them without having to pass by the traditional gatekeepers of the hobby. He closed by saying, "The way of talking about games we had was designed for a situation of convivial stylistic and commercial underdoggery which no longer exists in the same way...different things are going to seem interesting or worth saying, and we're gonna have to figure out what they are."
I think this is especially true of the traditional D&D blogosphere. A few years ago, when Monsters & Manuals hit its 1000th entry, I put up a post bemoaning the decline of blogs. In hindsight, I shouldn't have been so hasty, because actually my own blog entered a bit of a "Silver Age" shortly after that that lasted a good two years, during which my readership exploded to levels never before experienced. It has gone down a bit since then, but that's mainly attributable to me posting less frequently and with less quality, I think, than previously (parenthood has given me a permanent -2 to my INT score; I hope it's not cumulative with each baby).
But it's indisputably the case that blogs aren't what they were, partly because the "stylistic and commercial underdoggery" has gone away, and partly because so much has been written and said that needed to be written and said that it feels as though we've run out of things to write about. There is always going to be call for more creative content (monsters, art, new rules, etc.) but any more writing about the principles of good play would probably now be flogging a dead horse. We've got 10 years of that behind us.
I think, though, that a few big undiscovered countries remain - enough, in fact, to provide plenty of grist for further elucidation and insight. For starters:
More than that, though, while we have become very good at ploughing the furrow of "rogues exploring a sandbox in order to get rich", what we have only begun to scratch the surface of are different modes of play. Think of all the metaphorical internet ink that has been spilled on how to successfully run rogue-PC-oriented sandbox games, and consider that there is surely an equivalent amount of that ink to spill on how to effectively run games that have different sets of starting parameters. What, for instance, are best practices for games in which the PCs are "good guys"? What about best practices for games about spying or diplomacy? What about best practices for games in different eras - pseudo-Victorian period, pseudo-Ancient Greece, pseudo-WWI? What about games in which the PCs are defending an area from invaders? And so on.
What I think it boils down to is: we've said most of what we need to say about dungeons and hexcrawls. But there are more things in heaven and earth than that.
I think this is especially true of the traditional D&D blogosphere. A few years ago, when Monsters & Manuals hit its 1000th entry, I put up a post bemoaning the decline of blogs. In hindsight, I shouldn't have been so hasty, because actually my own blog entered a bit of a "Silver Age" shortly after that that lasted a good two years, during which my readership exploded to levels never before experienced. It has gone down a bit since then, but that's mainly attributable to me posting less frequently and with less quality, I think, than previously (parenthood has given me a permanent -2 to my INT score; I hope it's not cumulative with each baby).
But it's indisputably the case that blogs aren't what they were, partly because the "stylistic and commercial underdoggery" has gone away, and partly because so much has been written and said that needed to be written and said that it feels as though we've run out of things to write about. There is always going to be call for more creative content (monsters, art, new rules, etc.) but any more writing about the principles of good play would probably now be flogging a dead horse. We've got 10 years of that behind us.
I think, though, that a few big undiscovered countries remain - enough, in fact, to provide plenty of grist for further elucidation and insight. For starters:
- Nobody has posted anything definitive yet about running underwater adventures/campaigns
- And for that matter nobody has posted anything definitive yet about running wilderness exploration adventures/campaigns either
More than that, though, while we have become very good at ploughing the furrow of "rogues exploring a sandbox in order to get rich", what we have only begun to scratch the surface of are different modes of play. Think of all the metaphorical internet ink that has been spilled on how to successfully run rogue-PC-oriented sandbox games, and consider that there is surely an equivalent amount of that ink to spill on how to effectively run games that have different sets of starting parameters. What, for instance, are best practices for games in which the PCs are "good guys"? What about best practices for games about spying or diplomacy? What about best practices for games in different eras - pseudo-Victorian period, pseudo-Ancient Greece, pseudo-WWI? What about games in which the PCs are defending an area from invaders? And so on.
What I think it boils down to is: we've said most of what we need to say about dungeons and hexcrawls. But there are more things in heaven and earth than that.
Tuesday, 20 February 2018
Confessions of a Lazy Wannabe Novelist: A Call to Arms?
I have spent an inordinately large amount of time in my life penning the beginnings to short stories and novels. (My Mum still occasionally jokes that after I left home for university she went through my bedroom to transform it into a guest room and found box after box stuffed to the gills with hundreds and hundreds of sheafs of paper, all labelled 'Chapter One' at the top. This is almost certainly true.) I sometimes wonder if there is space in the market for a book of first pages to novels: here are 300 starts to stories - you, the reader, make up the rest! If there was, I'd be a millionaire before I knew it.
I have a short attention span, I am lazy, and I am hyper-critical of my own work. These are traits which I suspect most published authors have, but they get around them somehow. I know this, because I have managed to do so outside of the context of writing fiction (I wrote a 100,000 word PhD thesis; I wrote a 300+ page long RPG setting book and have another one close to completion; I have just about finished an academic monograph). So what is it about writing fiction that's different?
It is partly, I think, because I care about it too much. I don't want to write stories. I want to write work of heartbreaking and epoch-making quality. This sucks the enjoyment out of the process: from the start, I feel immense pressure to begin the literary equivalent of carving Michelangelo's David.
But also it's because, paradoxically, despite writing a lot, I don't write enough. I have honed my ability to write a good start to a story to a razor edge. But because I stop after a few pages, my ability to tell a good tale on paper, start to finish, lies unpracticed. I begin to bore myself very quickly, because I haven't figured out how to properly pen what I am compelled by the weight of history to call a "gripping yarn" - entirely because I never get far enough to do so.
Are you, like me, a lazy wannabe novelist? Are you caught in the paradox of writing a lot, but not enough? Let's start a support group. No pressure. Put your email address in the comments or where I share the post on G+. I'll set up a G+ group where we can share sob stories and cajole each other to write, and possibly even critique things we eventually get finished.
I have a short attention span, I am lazy, and I am hyper-critical of my own work. These are traits which I suspect most published authors have, but they get around them somehow. I know this, because I have managed to do so outside of the context of writing fiction (I wrote a 100,000 word PhD thesis; I wrote a 300+ page long RPG setting book and have another one close to completion; I have just about finished an academic monograph). So what is it about writing fiction that's different?
It is partly, I think, because I care about it too much. I don't want to write stories. I want to write work of heartbreaking and epoch-making quality. This sucks the enjoyment out of the process: from the start, I feel immense pressure to begin the literary equivalent of carving Michelangelo's David.
But also it's because, paradoxically, despite writing a lot, I don't write enough. I have honed my ability to write a good start to a story to a razor edge. But because I stop after a few pages, my ability to tell a good tale on paper, start to finish, lies unpracticed. I begin to bore myself very quickly, because I haven't figured out how to properly pen what I am compelled by the weight of history to call a "gripping yarn" - entirely because I never get far enough to do so.
Are you, like me, a lazy wannabe novelist? Are you caught in the paradox of writing a lot, but not enough? Let's start a support group. No pressure. Put your email address in the comments or where I share the post on G+. I'll set up a G+ group where we can share sob stories and cajole each other to write, and possibly even critique things we eventually get finished.
Saturday, 17 February 2018
NPC Idea: Rumpelstiltskin's Child
What if Rumpelstiltskin's plan had succeeded and he had ended up with an adopted son? Brought up by an amoral trickster-devil, taught to be able to spin straw into gold and disappear or reappear wherever he desired - but, at his core, fundamentally and irredeemably good because of his kindhearted mother?
He would be ungovernable, untrustworthy, unreliable, unkempt, and uncouth, constantly using his talents in all manner of undesirable ways. Donating vast wealth to a beggar on a whim, with little thought to how the beggar will avoid being robbed the next day. Buying a war galleon and crew to help him realise a frivolous dream of becoming a pirate, roaming the high seas causing mayhem until becoming bored (and often leaving his victims behind, unmolested, on a rowing boat with a gift of a golden necklace and a cheerful, "Sorry!"). Breaking the hearts of young girls by plying them with trinkets before quickly becoming distracted by the next pretty thing to catch his eye, but trying to make amends with inappropriate presents for their mothers. Using his ability to appear from nowhere to spook old ladies and priests.
Alternatively, he would be morose, unhappy, ill-at-ease with the world, forever wary of using his gifts because of a pained awareness that he will draw unwanted attention to himself, and scarred by his upbringing with a wicked father. He would still be unable to resist the urge to perform small acts of kindness - a pinch of gold straw given to a poor urchin here, a donation to a dilapidated temple there, a gift for an old widow, revenge taken on a neighbourhood bully.
Other fairy tale "what if" ideas: Rapunzel marooned in her tower after the witch accidentally dies while on an errand; the seven dwarves are hired to preserve royals in glass before they die so they can live forever.
He would be ungovernable, untrustworthy, unreliable, unkempt, and uncouth, constantly using his talents in all manner of undesirable ways. Donating vast wealth to a beggar on a whim, with little thought to how the beggar will avoid being robbed the next day. Buying a war galleon and crew to help him realise a frivolous dream of becoming a pirate, roaming the high seas causing mayhem until becoming bored (and often leaving his victims behind, unmolested, on a rowing boat with a gift of a golden necklace and a cheerful, "Sorry!"). Breaking the hearts of young girls by plying them with trinkets before quickly becoming distracted by the next pretty thing to catch his eye, but trying to make amends with inappropriate presents for their mothers. Using his ability to appear from nowhere to spook old ladies and priests.
Alternatively, he would be morose, unhappy, ill-at-ease with the world, forever wary of using his gifts because of a pained awareness that he will draw unwanted attention to himself, and scarred by his upbringing with a wicked father. He would still be unable to resist the urge to perform small acts of kindness - a pinch of gold straw given to a poor urchin here, a donation to a dilapidated temple there, a gift for an old widow, revenge taken on a neighbourhood bully.
Other fairy tale "what if" ideas: Rapunzel marooned in her tower after the witch accidentally dies while on an errand; the seven dwarves are hired to preserve royals in glass before they die so they can live forever.
Friday, 16 February 2018
New Blog/Project
Some readers may remember my series of posts on the Fixed World. I recently started another blog which comprises a travelogue written by an explorer (of sorts) of that world. You can find it here.
Tuesday, 13 February 2018
The Great OSR Novel?
There is no earthly reason why a great fantasy novel couldn't be written about dungeoneering. I picture it as being not so much character-driven as an extended depiction of a place: something like a fantasy version of Manhattan Transfer in which the main character is itself the dungeon, and its true nature and extent is gradually revealed as groups of adventurers encounter it, explore it, and expire - or successfully (or unsuccessfully) retire.
It would also be more entertaining than Manhattan Transfer, which I think would have been markedly improved if there had been orcs in it.
I want this book to exist, and I want Gene Wolfe to have written it; the other option is Jack Vance, which would produce a decidedly different but also, the more I think about it, in some ways not-so-different text. A kind of picaresque, but a picaresque of location: it's not a story about the adventures of a rogue living off his wits in a series of bizarre encounters, but rather a story about a place in which adventurous rogues have bizarre encounters which kill them or make them rich. Each chapter is devoted to the career of a group of comrades in a different portion of the dungeon; they come and go, but in the end only the dungeon and its inhabitants remains. The reader has followed a narrative arc, not towards the climax of a plot, but towards knowing the fictional creation in intimate detail.
(Gormenghast may in fact be a better exemplar.)
Wednesday, 7 February 2018
The Meta-Game Art Genre
In case you're not heard, Wizards of the Coast have finally got around to releasing the D&D Rules Cyclopedia in print form. If you want to own the version of D&D that Yoon-Suin was written for (never mind that it's also the best form of D&D ever made), get it.
I was going to write some sort of gushing paean to the Rules Cylopedia with this entry but then I was flicking through my PDF version in preparation for doing so and was reminded of this picture from inside:
It's an endearing illustration for a number of reasons. Partly, I think, it's because like a lot of the RC art it is somewhat imperfectly executed in a way that makes you - well, me anyway - feel an overwhelming sense of affection for it. Partly it's the fact that it is almost downplaying rather than hyping up the product by depicting players having a bit of a problem playing the game rather than unreservedly having a Great Time. Partly it's because it's so realistic: anybody who has played D&D can identify with trying to translate the map in the DM's mind into reality on a piece of graph paper (and any DM can identify with the realisation that, crap, you've made your map too complicated). Partly it's because it already looks like a bygone era - the hairstyles, the notepad, the t-shirt - and thus unintentionally but brilliantly combines nostalgia for playing the game with nostalgia for the whole atmosphere of the late 80s/early 90s when I was first encountering it.
But mainly I think it's just because it actually depicts people playing D&D rather than being an attempt to illustrate an in-universe element of it. It is not game art so much as it is meta-game art. That just makes it fun in itself.
I started racking my brains to think of other examples of meta-game art that I've seen. I'm sure that this genre is not limited to this one example in the Rules Cyclopedia. (In fact there may even be similar examples within other D&D books.) But, off the top of my head, I simply can't think of any. Is my sleep-deprived mind playing tricks on me? Come forth with other examples and share them!
Tuesday, 6 February 2018
The Fantasy RPG In-Group and Out-Group
I was sitting looking at my bookshelf earlier on this evening, and my eyes for some reason fell on Galilee, a doorstep by Clive Barker from the late 90s that I only vaguely remember reading. The thought occurred to me: I can't remember the last time, if ever, I saw anybody in any online role playing discussion of any description refer to any of Clive Barker's work whatsoever.
Then it hit me: Clive Barker, for some reason, is in the fantasy RPG out-group. There is a cluster of writers - shifty exiles and outcasts lurking just outside the borders our collective subconscious, like a pack of stray dogs or feral cats waiting for scraps which never come - whose work, while extremely popular with readers, never gets much of a mention when we fantasy RPG enthusiasts gather together to discuss our influences and inspirations.
Who else am I talking about? Well:
CS Lewis - out-group.
Guy Gavriel Kay - out-group.
Robert Holdstock - out-group.
Piers Antony - out-group.
Stephen Donaldson - out-group.
Terry Goodkind - out-group.
Julian May - out-group.
Robert Silverberg - out-group.
Harry Turtledove - out-group.
Tad Williams - out-group.
David Eddings? Out-group.
Against these are arrayed the in-group. Robert E Howard, HP Lovecraft, Clark Ashton Smith, JRR Tolkien, Jack Vance and Gene Wolfe, natch. China Mieville. M John Harrison. Michael Moorcock. George RR Martin. Lord Dunsany. Fritz Leiber. Glenn Cook. Lewis Carroll. Zelazny, probably?
What is it which defines whether a writer ends up in one camp or the other? We don't have big enough samples to make definitive statements, but I think casting my eye over the other we can suggest that there are certain indicators of toxicity to fantasy RPG fandom.
Provisional List of Indicators of Toxicity to Fantasy RPG Fandom
1) A sense of being "too popular", particularly if there is a feeling that the writer in question has dumbed-down in order to get mass appeal (David Eddings, Tad Williams, Piers Antony, Julian May).
2) The writer being notable for having certain religious or political beliefs which are not widely shared by RPG nerds (CS Lewis, Terry Goodkind).
3) Mixing the "real world" or real historical events with the fantastical (Guy Gavriel Kay, Robert Holdstock, Harry Turtledove, and I guess you could include Clive Barker in that).
4) A feeling of being "high fantasy" (whatever that means) versus "pulp" (whatever that means) (this, I think, includes most of the names on my list).
5) Not being in Appendix N.
Then it hit me: Clive Barker, for some reason, is in the fantasy RPG out-group. There is a cluster of writers - shifty exiles and outcasts lurking just outside the borders our collective subconscious, like a pack of stray dogs or feral cats waiting for scraps which never come - whose work, while extremely popular with readers, never gets much of a mention when we fantasy RPG enthusiasts gather together to discuss our influences and inspirations.
Who else am I talking about? Well:
CS Lewis - out-group.
Guy Gavriel Kay - out-group.
Robert Holdstock - out-group.
Piers Antony - out-group.
Stephen Donaldson - out-group.
Terry Goodkind - out-group.
Julian May - out-group.
Robert Silverberg - out-group.
Harry Turtledove - out-group.
Tad Williams - out-group.
David Eddings? Out-group.
Against these are arrayed the in-group. Robert E Howard, HP Lovecraft, Clark Ashton Smith, JRR Tolkien, Jack Vance and Gene Wolfe, natch. China Mieville. M John Harrison. Michael Moorcock. George RR Martin. Lord Dunsany. Fritz Leiber. Glenn Cook. Lewis Carroll. Zelazny, probably?
What is it which defines whether a writer ends up in one camp or the other? We don't have big enough samples to make definitive statements, but I think casting my eye over the other we can suggest that there are certain indicators of toxicity to fantasy RPG fandom.
Provisional List of Indicators of Toxicity to Fantasy RPG Fandom
1) A sense of being "too popular", particularly if there is a feeling that the writer in question has dumbed-down in order to get mass appeal (David Eddings, Tad Williams, Piers Antony, Julian May).
2) The writer being notable for having certain religious or political beliefs which are not widely shared by RPG nerds (CS Lewis, Terry Goodkind).
3) Mixing the "real world" or real historical events with the fantastical (Guy Gavriel Kay, Robert Holdstock, Harry Turtledove, and I guess you could include Clive Barker in that).
4) A feeling of being "high fantasy" (whatever that means) versus "pulp" (whatever that means) (this, I think, includes most of the names on my list).
5) Not being in Appendix N.
Friday, 2 February 2018
Animal Spirits
An entry from a random encounter table from my current work in progress, which is getting closer to completion:
Animal Spirit
An
animal demigod, ruler of all of its kind who live in the region; a powerful
elemental of nature who embodies the perfect specimen of its race and is imbued
with the magic of the forest. Roll 1d6 to determine its type:
1 – Wolf.
An impossibly large wolf with black and white fur, accompanied by a pack of
seven followers. They appear out of the trees like ghosts, heralded by their
howls.
HD 6, AC 16, AB +7, Attacks 1 (bite,
1d6+2), Move 180
Always acts first as though winning a surprise round despite forewarning of howls.
Can cast following spells: Bless,
Heroism, Remove/Bestow Curse, Darkness, Haste/Slow, Invisibility 10’ Radius
Companions:
HD 2+2, AB +4, Attacks 1 (bite, 1d6+1), Move 180
2 –
Crane. White like the snow, with a crown of red feathers, the crane spirit comes
shrouded in mist with a flock of a dozen ethereal companions who drain the life force
of his enemies.
HD 4, AB
+6, Attacks 2 (peck 1d4, buffest 1d3), Move 90 (Fly 240)
Can cast following spells:
Darkness, Magic Aura, Sleep, Change Self, ESP, Ray of Enfeeblement, Stinking
Cloud, Wall of Fog, Gaseous Form, Hold Person
Companions:
HD 1+1, AB +3, Attacks* (XP
drain), Move 90 (Fly 240)
3 – Boar.
An instantiation of brute aggression: hard muscles, yellow tusks and eyes which
smoulder like hot coals. He is accompanied everywhere by his harem of six
females and their dozen non-combatant young.
HD 6, AB
+7, Attacks 1 (gore 1d6+6, doubled on charge), Move 150
Companion
females: HD 3, AB +5, Attacks 1 (gore 1d6, doubled on charge), Move 150
4 –
Tanuki. The famous trickster of the mountains who delights in tormenting and
befuddling the humans who enter his realm. He is rarely seen or directly
encountered, but sometimes he can he heard drumming his own belly with his
forepaws under the light of a full moon.
HD 5, AB
+5, Attacks 1 (bite 1d4), Move 180
Can summon an encounter at will;
if the Tanuki Spirit activates this power, roll another random encounter, which
surprises the PCs automatically.
Can cast the following spells:
Light/Darkness, Magic Aura, Sleep, Audible Glamer, Change Self, ESP,
Invisibility, Forget, Magic Mouth, Phantasmal Force, Wall of Fog, Hold Person,
Phantasmal Psychedelia, Suggestion, Confusion, Dimension Door, Growth of
Plants, Polymorph Others, Polymorph Self, Shadow Monsters, Chaos, Geas, Mass
Suggestion, Veil
5 –
Monkey. The malicious, lazy and cowardly lord of the macaques, who enjoys
nothing more than to demonstrate his self-proclaimed superiority over lowly
humans. He has with him five male underlings and two dozen non-combatant
females and young.
HD 5, AB
+6, Attacks 1 (bite 1d6+2), Move 180
Can, once per day, strike
somebody dumb, blind or deaf (once each) by touch – a condition which lasts for the
duration of that day.
Can cast the following spells: Enlarge,
Faerie Fire, Shield, Ray of Enfeeblement, Wall of Fog, Hold Person, Suggestion,
Minor Creation
Male companions:
HD 1+1, AB +3, Attacks 1 (bite 1d6), Move 180
6 –
Serow. Ruler of the forest goats, the silent grey-furred denizens of the
densest woods. He prizes solitariness
and secrecy above all things and seeks to achieve this through his magic.
HD 5, AB
+6, Attacks 1 (gore 1d4+2, double on charge), Move 180
Is accompanied everywhere by a
permanent spell of Silence, 30’ radius
Can cast the following spells: Sleep,
Force of Forbidment, Forget, Stinking Cloud, Wall of Fog, Web, Hold Person,
Gust of Wind, Improved Invisibility, Protection from Normal Missiles, Dimension
Door, Minor Globe of Invulnerability, Feeblemind, Veil, Prismatic Spray
Animal
spirits can speak with human beings and will respond favourably to supplication
or humble requests for access to their lands; the more hostile the reaction
dice roll, the more likely this is to be demanded by force. In return for allowing
the PCs to remain, the animal spirit will demand a service of some kind. This
will be (roll a d4 or choose as appropriate):
1 –
Removing the Russian interlopers
2 – Removing the hornet spirit
3 –
Removing ZenkÅ and his servants
4 –
Helping achieve vengeance against local hunters (from the nearest village geographically)