Category: Original Content

My previous post dug out a conversion rate of 25 gold pieces (GP) for one koku. That post focused upon the minimum income of a single samurai. As we have a historical record of the kokudaka (tax assessment of the entire country), I can expand my conversion to the daimyō—the landholding baronial class of pre-modern Japan. Under the kokudaka:

• The minimum annual revenue needed to be considered a daimyō was 10,000 koku. So 250,000 GP in agricultural production, annually.
• Many daimyō had revenue in excess of 100,000 koku. 2.5 million GP.
• The future Shōgun, Tokugawa Ieyasu, was daimyō of the eight provinces of the Kanto plain which produced an annual revenue of 2.5 million koku. 62.5 million GP.
• Out of a (1598) national total of just under 19 million koku. That is 475 million GP! Per year!
• Most of that was eaten, of course; Japan’s population at the time was somewhere around 19 million.

Watching the new streaming miniseries Shōgun got me thinking about my visual representation of Xenograg at his current age of 72. The definitive image that is on my homepage is 18 years ago!   ::gasp::

Had I chosen a film/television character at that time, it would likely have been Tiberias from Kingdom of Heaven, portrayed by Jeremy Irons:

Jeremy Irons, then-age 57

While I have a fondness for the 1980 version of Shōgun, I am very pleased with the new show’s increased role for the character of Toda Hiro-matsu and its marvelous portrayal by Tokuma Nishioka. His gravitas immediately struck me as an excellent visual analogue for Xenograg today:

Tokuma Nishioka, age 78

It was the 1980 television miniseries Shōgun that introduced me to the concept of koku as a measure of wealth in pre-modern Japan. I purchased the original AD&D Oriental Adventures rulebook when it came out in 1985. I only ever used it for inspiration, though. That never included using koku for player character income/wealth.

It was the 2024 streaming miniseries Shōgun that finally got me curious enough about koku to do the research. My questions were:

1. How many koku of income did a common samurai need to live?
2. How was it distributed to him?
3. What was one koku worth in D&D coinage?

The answers I found:

1. The Samurai Archives Wiki project’s page for koku states a samurai’s annual expenses “was around 1.8” koku. That does not count the one koku he eats, so it takes almost 3 koku to basically live.
2. That same page states “one-quarter of the annual stipend was paid in spring, one-quarter in summer, and the remaining one-half in the winter.”
3. The Oriental Adventures rulebook has two tables in its “Money & Equipment” chapter. The first sets one koku worth 5 ch’ien. The second sets one ch’ien equal to 5 gold pieces (GP). So one koku is worth 25 GP.

So the wage of a “historical” samurai in D&D would be about 70 GP per year. Almost 6 GP per month.

ADDENDUM: 6 GP per month is what the AD&D Dungeon Masters Guide lists as the wage for a mercenary heavy cavalryman or mounted archer. So internally consistent between the rulebooks.

See also Fiefs Were Measured By How Much Food They Produced.

I have previously posted about how plate armor should be much more expensive than listed in most RPG equipment lists. While this will make its acquisition by Player Characters more difficult, it is neither the sole nor primary reason they should rarely have it: ownership would be restricted by any organized government to trusted individuals. In a word, loyalty. Men-at-arms who have sworn to serve that government and not act contrary to it.

PCs must earn such trust, and give oaths of loyalty, before being granted access to such critical military technology.

There are other ways for PCs to achieve “heavy armor” equivalency—say, wearing two “medium” armors atop one another—but that has (and should have) obvious disadvantages.

The core of the following was written extemporaneously during a chat conversation with a friend. It is a “Xenograg in Space” snippet that highlights how unexpected magic can be in a solar system where technology is the default.

A klaxon unexpectedly sounds on the bridge of the pirate ship. They had just waylaid a small, unarmed system cutter and ordered them to prepared to be boarded. The First Mate looks up in shock from his datapad.

“Intruder Alert!” he declares. The pirate captain’s head snaps around to face the First Mate.

“How can we have intruders?! Our shields block Transporters!”

“They did not use Transporters, Capt’n! They teleported aboard using magic!”

“They wha—”

The Captain never finishes his sentence as six bellowing orcs in plate armor storm onto the ship’s bridge. Two are not even bearing guns, just melee weapons. The Captain and First Mate are shot dead without even touching their own holstered sidearms. The rest of the completely unarmored bridge crew die from a single stroke of sword or axe, each.

The orc leader speaks aloud because it makes it easier for him to project his thoughts.

“The ship is ours, General.”

>Well done, Darg,< Xenograg sends in reply. >I am very impressed, in fact. Convey my honored respects to your band.<

I was recently reminded how many opening sequences of television cartoons are masterpieces of exposition, specifically the monologue. A first-time viewer hears everything they need to understand the setting and characters they are about to see. I present two of the best that I know of.

First, a rare two-minute sequence for Thunderbirds 2086 that extolls the higher, non-violent calling that is International Rescue:

The best there ever was is for Thundarr the Barbarian. Not just worldbuilding but defining of the heroic protagonists—in 60 seconds:

Perfection.

As I commented on Men Who Lived Deeper in the Shadows, in a fantasy roleplay campaign world, most people are rogues. I first got this idea from the blogpost, Hit Me Baby One More Time, and its description of 1st-level Thieves in B/X (e.g., 1981 Basic Edition D&D):

…At 1st level the thief looks almost like any other urban Normal Man…but it’s just an act. Even at 1st level he has abilities that set him apart from the general populace. The thief’s cunning and grace makes him an excellent combatant compared to the Normal Man (better attack matrix), and his wit, luck, and powers of observation make him immune to hazards that the NM would suffer (better saving throws)….

Working from that, a zero-level Rogue basically is a Normal Man; they do not have those abilities that set 1st-level’s apart. We also arrive at this conclusion by process of elimination: a Normal Man has neither the cantrip-only magic of the zero-level caster classes nor the improved combat ability of a zero-level Fighter.

All this leads me to a conclusion: as Rogues dominate the zero-level “tier”, they should likewise at 1st level.

The current remake of Shogun gives me the opportunity to point out a historical fact (almost?) completely ignored by fantasy roleplaying games: wearing armor is only acceptable in a few, very specific instances. These are:

• When warriors/soldiers know that combat is likely and imminent. This may or may not include formal duels, depending on time and place.
• When they are mustered as a formal military formation.
• Combat tournaments using weapons.
• Dedicated training periods in dedicated locations.

Even guards on duty in a castle are not armored unless it is actively under siege.

Japanese samurai films (fictional or historical) are the best but not exclusive example of this. The street skirmish in Romeo and Juliet is another. In fact, street skirmish describes most samurai film combat.

Proper war weapons are likewise proscribed. Neither the European rapier nor the Japanese katana are battlefield weapons. They are for “personal defense” in a civilian venue.

To wear armor in town means you intend to have a deadly fight—intend to commit murder. There should be consequences.

Gamemasters who set their campaigns in any pre-industrial period frequently fail to understand that everything is handmade—including tools and the tools to make tools. Even in places with high population, the vast majority are primarily engaged in producing food. The number of artesans in a population is always low. Manufactured items could be stockpiled in great amounts, but that took much time (i.e., years) and dedicated effort—usually at the expense of other things being deprioritized.

Artesans can command high wages, but that is far outstripped by the value of what they make. Their small numbers get lost in the sea of poverty-wage labor. What they have made outlives them—possibly by centuries, sometimes.

Even animals are worth more than people. A dead cow is a greater loss than that of a peasant, let alone a horse. Sad but true.

In such a society, people are cheap while things are expensive. Among other things, the equipment lists in games should better reflect this.

For further reading:

• The Cost of Plate Armor in Modern Money
• Normalizing Skerples’ Medieval Price List
• Why Medieval Warfare was Expensive Business

The blogpost Why A Soldier Is A Rogue Not A Fighter is a great example of thinking about character classes in new ways. It focuses on 5th Edition D&D, but it inspired me to ponder the concept in earlier (and OSR) editions.

One detail repeatedly stood out: Rogues (I do prefer that class name change) are not proficient with shields. While a soldier-Rogue wielding a (two-handed) polearm would not need it, a shield is all the more valuable when one is wearing only light armor. It should be there.

Then it hit me. If I rephrase “not proficient with shields” as “gains no benefit from using a shield,” the dissonance between mechanics and aesthetics disappears. We so often let the game mechanics alter our roleplay; e.g., if your character gains no mechanical benefit from using a shield, you would have them stop using one. But how would they know, in-character, as inexperienced soldiers? If a shield was available, and they were not wielding a two-handed weapon, they would certainly use it.

I am presuming a 1st-level Rogue here as that is what a unit of village militia would consist of. Higher level Rogues could recognize the non-benefit and/or learn how to benefit (i.e., be given proficiency).

I have a new page under Other Fiction that tells of Xenograg’s first trip to Gateway Station which orbits the planet Rhydin III. This will tie into my Rhydinspace setting.

Without further ado, University of Rigel Medical Center at Rhydin.

The forces of Chaos slip into the Rhydin system through portals and, very rarely, magic-powered spaceships. They seek footholds on the outermost planets’ moons. They do not just build bases; they change the landscape to match their insane proclivities.

To find and root out these footholds, the sentient star recruits agents and allies from the ranks of the numerous sentient species that inhabit the system. The vast majority of these species are technological, though. Technology is important for traveling around the solar system but has serious limitations when used to fight supernatural opponents. They must fight fire with fire—the supernatural forces of magic and/or psionics. Such magical defenders as agents are sought after and highly prized by Rhydin.

As previously mentioned, the sentient star has a benevolent attitude towards their solar system/microverse. Their gravity creates order. That order has created life on at least one planet. They want this to life to continue to grow along its natural course, in balance.

There are enemies of Life, though. Not the impersonal dangers of vacuum or radiation, but hostile intelligences. Great foes that marshal forces to invade, conquer, enslave, and/or corrupt all life. Beings against any natural order. Gods of Chaos.

Not the primordial chaos of the Nexus, which is a perfect balance of potentiality. A degenerate manifestation totally opposed to balance.

This is a supernatural threat to Rhydin’s natural universe of physics.

The Rhydin solar system consists of eight planets and two asteroid belts. Two small, airless planets orbit nearest the star. Rhydin III is the sole planet within the Habitable Zone. The asteroid belts exist either side of Rhydin III. The remaining five planets are all gas giants.

Rhydin is a nexus dimension. The nexus dimension. An extension of the Nexus—the Infinite Primordial. A pocket of order.

It is a pocket universe. Its edge is the heliosphere. To go beyond is to leave the dimension. There are permanent portals to elsewheres out at the edge. Starships that utilize jump drives, warp drives, or overdrives create their own portals to whatever home dimensions their science is from.

(I think I will give #Lore24 a try. A spur to work on “Xenograg in Spaaaaaace!” Microblogging counts.) 😀

The Rhydin solar system is a standard heliocentric one. What is nonstandard is the star is sentient. They lack gender. They have a benevolent attitude towards their solar system and the lifeforms that inhabit it. They are still an alien intelligence, though, and are not always comprehensible or benign. Never intentionally harmful, but solar winds and other radiations of energy is part of what they are.

Rhydin is their name.

For most of the Sunday weekly (virtual) 5e D&D gaming this year, I roleplayed a human fighter named Urion. Inspired by this, I had him prefer gems and jewelry over coins for his share of any treasure found. He is now 11th level, and has accumulated quite an eclectic mix of bling—most of which he wears. Here it is:

• small silver cube (?)
• gem-encrusted dagger (100gp)
• silver necklace (25 gp)
• polished brass pin in the shape of unicorn with jewel horn (75 gp)
• small silver key (?)
• silver ring of 26 pierced silver coins (27 sp)
• large jade thumb-ring (10gp)
• bronze & green quartz brooch (25gp)
• silver & beryl ring (50gp)
• silvery (copper-nickel) dagger, (10 gp)
• electrum serpent bracelet (50gp)
• jade pectoral (50gp)
• silver-coin necklace (36gp) [x8]
• agate ring (5gp)
• jade bracelet (20gp) [x2]
• platinum key on chain (20gp)
• blue quartz (10gp)
• obsidian (10gp)
• turquoise(10gp)
• lapis lazuli (10gp) [x3]
• amber (100gp)
• remorhaz tooth

The bronze, jade, turquoise, and obsidian came from the Hidden Shrine of Tamoachan adventure.

A D&D/d20 mechanic that is all-but-universal is some kind of attack improvement when wielding a weapon in each hand.

I find that to be the complete opposite of the primary—and, in my opinion, obvious—reason for the choice: giving you something else to parry/deflect enemy attacks with. I see no benefit to you when attacking; if you make an attack with the off-hand weapon, you are going to be parrying with the main-. A momentary swap, not an addition.

There is no functional difference between sword-and-dagger and sword-and-shield. That swap likewise works with a shield; I bash or swat you with my shield, but my weapon’s role becomes protection for that moment.

A modern D&D mechanic I agree with is the +2 defense bonus granted by a shield. This leaves space to grant a +1 defense bonus to an off-hand weapon. The difference being size of my off-hand tool.

Instead of providing a bonus to the attack and damage rolls, magical weapons in Chainmail grant additional attack rolls per round. Conversely, magical armor negates a number of attacks per round.

The part that makes this feel properly magical is that an opponent can be reduced to zero attacks, and thus incapable of harming the wearer.

This can be used in Dungeons & Dragons almost as-is. The only question is whether the attack negation by armor is per round or per opponent. As magical weapons would only grant additional attacks per round, the complimentary rule for armor would be attack negation per round. But the magical bonus on Armor Class normally applies against every attack. If the attack negation is per opponent, a wearer could simply be invulnerable against a horde of low-level opponents.

Chainmail has a solution for this: opponents can utilize tactical teamwork which combines their number of attacks. This is superior to D&D mechanics like Help Action and Pack Tactics which would be insufficient against a per-opponent ruling.

If D&D Hit Points are not simply meat points but also luck, grit, et. al. (which I believe), then weapon damage needs to also scale by level.

Why should a duel between two high-level fighters take much longer than one between two lowers?

I see three options (for fighters):

1. Weapon damage bonus of +1 per fighter level. No change to number of attacks.
2. Weapon damage is one die per fighter level. No change to number of attacks.
3. One attack roll per fighter level. No change to weapon damage.