Tag: RPGs

Never, ever, run a combat encounter if it’s not a defining moment in your session, adventure or campaign.

Mundane encounters don’t benefit from your games’ highly involved and time-consuming combat rules. The environment isn’t interesting enough. The enemies aren’t diverse enough. The goal is too simplistic; kill or be routed. There’s nothing to gain from winning or losing besides death and paltry trinkets. Don’t do it.

I’m not saying make combat rare. Just that if you have combat, invest the time to making it unique and interesting. Unless you’ve setup a combat encounter in a cool area with meaningful enemies and actual stakes, don’t use the full combat rules. Run an abridged version. Treat it as any other roll. Succeed at a cost. Montage it.

— Doing Crunchy D&D-style Combat Right – RPG.net

I have lately been pondering cavalry lances in D&D. I never see them used. (I never see mounted combat, either, but nevermind that now.) With a charge attack scoring double damage, a lance is the most powerful melee weapon. Yet no one uses them.

Although there has never been a rule for it, one reason I never used a lance was because they usually break—are supposed to break. A Player Character needs to carry more than one. (Missed opportunity to have a person-of-hench as a squire.)

A magical lance that does not break is a danger to its wielder. It should be impermanent in the same way magical arrows are. (You should find 1d4 lances +1 in a treasure trove. 😁)

My pondering led me to the conclusion that the best application of magic here is overcoming the need for spare lances; all my Player Character truly wants is another, unbroken lance. A lance that magically reassembles after breaking is too fanciful for my tastes. Conjuring a new lance is the simplest solution. Since the lances are not the permanent magical item, something else needs to perform the conjuring.

And so I give you: the Gauntlet of Lances!

Gauntlet of Lances

Wondrous Item, Rare

A gauntlet for the right hand that creates in its grip a nonmagical wooden lance (of appropriate size).

Letting go of the (presumed broken) lance causes all pieces of it to disappear.

Game Master’s discretion as to what level of action is required for a wearer to conjure a new lance.

1. Why is the dungeon there?

Is it the lair of a monster? Was it a prison? Did a strange wizard make it? Did it come from ancient peoples who used it for storing potatoes — po-tay-toes!!

2. What has happened to the dungeon since it was built?

Is it still in perfect condition? Are there skeletons of dwarves everywhere? Did they dig too deep? Has someone else moved in? Did an earthquake open a rift to the Plane of Fire? Has part of it collapsed? Flooded?

3. Who lives there now?

Is it a bunch of random monsters or a colony of giant centipedes? Has the Spider-Dragon moved in? Do the monsters get along or do they fight? Is it empty? Don’t make it empty. Is a lich in charge? Why isn’t a lich in charge? Liches are awesome!

4. What do the monsters want?

If a bunch of monsters live in the dungeon, what do they want? Are they just living there? Is it their home? Are they planning to raid the town? Are they doing evil secret things? Are they summoning fiends? Are they just playing card games?

5. Why should the characters go there?

What makes them want to explore? Ancient knowledge? Magical power? Treasure? Evil monsters that need to be slain? Evil monsters that just need a friend? Rumors of a magic sword? A captured prince? To stop a ritual?

6. Why are the traps still active?

It is fun to create traps that have been set off by now dead explorers. That shows it is dangerous and creates a sense of doom! If the traps are still active it means no one has come this way yet… or they have been reset by someone.

7. Why are there secret doors?

Secret doors are fun but they should have a reason to exist. They are no fun if your players never find them. Make them easy to find and hard to open. Do they lead to treasure? Escape paths? Rituals rooms? Don’t make them lead to the toilet.

8. How big should it be?

Huge dungeons are fun to draw and it is scary when you are 9 levels down and monsters are closing in. But it can be boring if you don’t make it a living dungeon. A dungeon with 4 or 5 rooms can be perfect to explore but doesn’t drag on forever.

9. Should you add some puzzles?

Add puzzles if you want to bring your game to a screeching halt and spend an hour listening to your players say the answer ten times but never make a decision. Unless your players like puzzles… then add as many as you want. Make them easy.

10. How should the monsters react to the characters?

If the characters make a lot of noise or drop a bucket into a well, the monsters in the dungeon should react. Do they come in huge numbers and attack the party? Do they set traps? Do they ambush the party? Try to flee?

— @redwyrmofficial – Twitter

Swamps are the location for a lot of horror stories and RPG adventures, and they often come populated with zombies. Of course, once adventurers gain enough experience they begin fearing zombies a lot less, even in relatively huge numbers. But it seems to me that too rarely are the possibilities and implications of fighting undead in a swamp really used to their full potential…

Imagine tough adventurers with swamp water up to their waist, fighting off zombies. What if the zombies, instead of trying to bite, claw or swing crudely with their weapon, were instructed instead by their creator to form groups and grapple adventurers, dragging them under the swamp water where they can’t breathe (Something the undead don’t need to do) and holding them there? If an adventurer is dragged down into the water with his torch or lantern, it would also mean less illumination for the living. And sure, one zombie might have trouble grappling an energetic adventurer, but five zombies grappling at the same time?

— Fighting Zombies in the Swamps!!! What a Drag… – Eye Ray of the Beholder

A message from the gods is worth more than a plot of land. A wise party will seek these messages when possible, as they can greatly aid them on their dangerous travels. Messages of…

• …coming blessings from a deity
• …warnings against certain actions or plans
• …judgement against the party or their enemies for an offense
• …indictment for what the party has done wrong
• …instruction on what to do next

…are extraordinarily valuable. Unfortunately for the party, messages from the divine are few and far between for the common person. Even if they were to receive such a message, its meaning would be totally lost on them—they do not have the proper training! All is not lost however, as the gods are not limited in their means of communication.

Official Prophecy

Any king worth his weight in whatever is his most lucrative export is going to sponsor prophets. These prophets are no ecstatic or dreamer, oh no; these are professionals trained in cultivating prophecies and communicating the messages of the gods above. A wise king has many prophets representing many different gods, for where there is no guidance the people fall, but in abundance of counselors there is victory.

These prophets are the king’s advisers, who communicate to the king important information from the gods regarding politics, war, and religion. Besides this, the king has certain responsibilities, such as maintaining justice and caring for the dispossessed with his domain. A word from above can give the guidance necessary to bring success to the king in these responsibilities. And when the king is successful, everyone is successful.

Employing an Official Prophet

An official prophet has little need to work with such commoners as the party. Even if the party should be successful and gain lands, herds, flocks, and servants, the king is far greater, and the king is the prophet’s sponsor. The prospect of successfully buying an official prophet’s prophecy has a 1-in-10 chance.

However, all is not hopeless. Should a party member be of a noble background, the chance increases by 2. Should a party member be of a religious background, the chance increases by 1. If that same party member happens to be a strong follower of the same deity of the prophet, the chance increases by 2. In the right circumstances, the chance of successfully buying an official prophet’s prophecy in a 4-person party could be as high as 9-in-10.

That being said, it is a rare case indeed for such a high chance. The best way for the party to gain an audience with an official prophet is through the big guy himself: the king. Kings often give incredible gifts to loyal and proven servants, and a prophecy from an official prophet can be of great worth in the dangerous occupation the party has chosen.

Informal Prophecy

The gods don’t always use the “official” lines of communication. They are mysterious and their activities are hard to discern; that they use ecstatics and dreamers from both priests and laypersons is not surprising. Despite their lack of training and inability to cultivate messages from the gods regularly, their prophecies are no less important or informative.

A wise king has a few ecstatics in his care at all times. They are not reliable in their frequency, but are more like hot springs in the deserts: they do nothing for long periods of time…and then a sudden burst of energy from the divine! These do not function as the more learned ones, but enjoy the hospitality of the palace, if also experiencing some hostility from the temple.

Employing a Dreamer or Ecstatic

Dreamers and ecstatics are not always in the king’s care. Often they are found within the community the party finds themselves in. However, employing them for the purpose of prophecy is a gamble that may never pay off. Should it, the party will gain what they seek: a message from the gods. Should it not, the party will have naught more than a leech on their resources. Any offer above the current living conditions of the dreamer or ecstatic should be enough to gain their employ.

Those NPCs designated dreamers have a 5-in-100 chance of gaining a message from the gods during their rest. Those NPCs designated ecstatics have a 1-in-100 chance of gaining a message from the gods normally. When ecstatics are in a heightened state, whether through drugs, sex, or some other means, the chance increases to 5-in-100. Both dreamers and ecstatics will know the proper interpretation of their messages.

Those within the party have a 1-in-100 chance of receiving a message from deity when they rest or achieve a heightened state. Those of an academic, magical, musical, or religious background have a 2-in-100 chance instead. However, they will not know how to interpret the message from the gods, for the symbolism is deep and requires intense knowledge of their meanings. The party will need to gain the service of a temple consultant to discern its meaning.

Incubation

The party has another means of gaining a message from the divine, but the means of doing it are incredibly dangerous for anyone other than the king or his highest officials. If the party can enter the sacred space of the deity they wish to ask a question—that deity’s temple, garden, or ziggurat—and sleep there overnight without being killed for their irreverence and sacrilege, they have a 1-in-10 chance of receiving a message in the form of a dream.

It would be safer to gain entrance into the sacred space rather than sneak in. Gaining entrance is hard, but the best way to gain it is as a gift for services given to the temple or palace. Along with the gifted opportunity to incubate will come the offer to then interpret the dream’s message. As always, it is best to be in the good graces of the king and temple priests.

Other Means

There are other ways of discerning the will of deity, but that is through deduction, not inspiration. For a truly inspired message, directly from deity to man, one must use prophets, dreams, or periods of ecstasy. There simply is no other way to get a direct message from above.

— Discerning the Will of Deity by Inspiration – Stepped On a d4

Alas, that blog is gone, and the Internet Archive does not have a copy of this blogpost. I have copied the entire text here for posterity.

Into the Odd doesn’t have many moving parts, but your game should have lots of interesting decisions to be made. For interesting choices you need to:

1. Give enough information.
2. Have multiple reasonable actions.
3. Give actions consequences.

A particular type of choice is a Dilemma, the tough choice.

When ruling a Dilemma, remember the mantra Pick or Push.

Present two desirable, or equally undesirable, choices.

The players either Pick one OR Push for both.

If they Pick one, then they get exactly that, but they miss out on the other choice. Don’t over-complicate the choice with too many hidden consequences. Keep it real simple between two things they want.

If they Push for both they’ll have to do one of the following:

• Risk: Try something risky that could range from a single Saving Throw to a full on adventure.
• Sacrifice: Give up something else in return for both, normally a resource. Throwing time or money at a problem is usually the easy way out, so make sure those have real consequences.
• Smarts: Have a really clever idea that lets them get both without losing out. Generally I’m easily talked into this sort of thing, especially if it’s funny. There may still be minor consequences.

— Dilemmas: Pick or Push – Bastionland

…[A] common lacking I’ve seen in many role-playing games with clerics [is] the lack of importance of a holy ground. While in a lot of fantasy media and historic folklore there is a strong importance of being on holy ground, not so in most games.

In Piecemeal, holy ground is a prime consideration for using Priest Miracles. Most healing and damage spells are given a re-roll, or reduced piety cost when cast on holy ground. Weapons wielded by the faithful on holy ground count as magical (making the town chapel an ideal place of refuge when the werewolves attack) and those of enemy faith’s cannot heal on holy ground.

This makes being on holy ground (and not being on unholy ground) very important to consider. But how prevalent is holy ground? “Consecrate Ground” is a priest miracle, any PC or NPC priest who wants to spend the piety may use this miracle. It turns a shrine, temple or church into holy ground for as long as the shrine , temple or church remains undefiled. Thus in conflicts it is often important to make sure you destroy the unholy sites of the enemy.

Why is this good?

1. On a tactical level this adds a spiritual element to the terrain. When fighting an evil cult to Baphomet, deep in the woods around the base of the JuJu tree you need to make some decisions. Do you focus on fighting the cultists and the high priest first and destroy the shrine afterwards? Doing so means your priest is at a disadvantage and the enemy priest is at an advantage. You could also focus on setting the JuJu tree on fire first, letting the high priest use more infernal miracles against you. And a third option is to perhaps have a thief sneak in [beforehand] and set fire to the JuJu tree as a signal to begin the attack. It adds choices and more strategy to terrain.
2. It makes the local temple or church more of a “safe house” from the supernatural and occult shrines that much more foreboding of a place to venture.
3. It allows priest characters the ability to add permanent additions to the world that will have a lasting and recurring benefit to them.

— Be Careful on Holy Ground – Unofficial Games

Thank the gods for the Internet Archive Wayback Machine, else I could not have linked to the source blogpost.

My personal take on dwarves isn’t all that big of a departure from the classic traditional dwarf, but there’s some notable re-prioritization within their bailiwick, inspired heavily by Raymond Feist’s Midkemia books.

So, yes. Dwarves are on the short side (compared to humans), stocky, physically strong and tough. They live in mountains, where they have mines and process the mines’ output into tools, weapons, armor, and other goods for use or for sale to outsiders. But…the mines and forges are only part of what they do, and not even the most important part. Sure, they’re very good at it, but you can’t eat steel. If push comes to shove, you can sell the forges’ output and use the profit to buy food, but it’s much better to have your own food sources.

So they herd goats. Those big, shaggy, ornery, independent mountain goats that can climb a sheer cliff if given half a reason. The most respected career in dwarf culture isn’t smith, or warrior, or brewer—it’s goatherd. The goatherds keep the lodge supplied with meat and leather for the winter, and chasing after those goats in the high pastures all summer ain’t no job for some wimp. Goatherds are the first line of defense—anyone approaching a dwarven clan’s range in summer will run into a herd of goats long before they find any of the hidden mountain valleys where the dwarves actually build their homes. They also have a few farms in those valleys that they get as much hardy grains and vegetables out of during the summer as they can, but goats are the big thing.

In terms of weapons, Dwarves don’t use hammers and axes because they’re such superior weapons; they use them because every dwarf weapon is a tool first, and a weapon second. They’re just so well made that they work extremely well as weapons anyway. Swords have no place in dwarf society because you can’t use a sword for anything except fighting. Among the herders, the most common weapon is the crossbow—good for bringing down predators, scaring off bandits, or hunting wild game if the chance arises. The most experienced carry big steel-limbed arbalests with mechanical loading systems that only a dwarf properly trained in their operation can load or fire. Let the elves have their longbows—a dwarven arbalest doesn’t care about little things like armor. There are multiple tales of particularly ambitious raiders trying to attack a dwarven village behind cover of a shield wall, only to have the dwarven firing line punch their volley straight through the shields with enough force to kill the men holding them.

In the summer, every dwarf is busy; farming, minding the herds, hunting, trading with nearby human (or elven) settlements…but once the seasons turn and the snow starts to close the mountain passes, they retreat into their secluded villages in the sheltered high valleys; their farm fields become winter pasture for the goats, and most of the clan wiles away the winter in drink and song, waiting for the passes to open again. The winter is also when most of the mining and forging gets done, but even that only accounts for less than half the clan at any given time; there’s just not enough demand for new tools, and they can only stockpile so much at a time.

Most of the dwarves’ reputation comes from a human merchant who was making a late-season visit to a dwarven clanhold to purchase a load of tools, and got snowed in. The dwarves were happy to put him up for the winter, but he had little interest in venturing out to the farms or pastures, so he spent all winter drinking and telling tales and watching the miners and smiths do their work, and then in the spring he loaded up his purchased wares and went on his way before any of the goats got moved down to the lower pastures. So what did he see? Lots of drinking, lots of mining and smithing, lots of axes and hammers, but no goats or farms. And yet, his account is the one that so many humans judge dwarven culture by….

— RPG.net Forums

Author’s emphases.

Ok, as the resident White Dragon fan, I feel I gotta point some stuff out. While White Dragons are the dumbest dragon, they are so much smarter than an animal, being Int 6 whereas your average Orc is Int 8, so not much of a difference there. Where White Dragons differ is in that they are absolutely savage. They don’t care for social niceties, hell they don’t even care to talk to their victims, even to gloat. That is because of one reason and one reason only.

Their environment.

White Dragons live in probably the single most hostile location in a fantasy world, the frozen north. Up here they start their lives as flying housecat-sized dispensers of frozen death. They behave much like Hawks or other flying predators and this lasts up until they hit Young, because now they’re the size of a wolf and can’t really sit on your average tree branch. So begins the next phase of their life.

Once they hit wolf-sized they start to become straight up ambush predators as they can’t rely on being able to swoop down on their larger targets anymore. So they dig a hole or lie in a snowbank waiting for something to come by. Why don’t they just track stuff? The could, but the long range hunter niche is filled by wolf packs, which the dragon can simply avoid competing with by being an ambush predator, which it is insanely good at. This comes to an end once it becomes Large though.

Now, the White Dragon has just spent the first 100 years or so of its life being some sort of ambush predator, and at no point was it the top of the local food chain, unlike how many other dragons can be. The fact that so many creatures up north can be resistant to its breath weapon means that it can’t punch up as effectively as its relatives and so it had to avoid stuff like Winter Wolves. Now that it’s large those things aren’t as big of a threat, but it also needs more food, so they will often head to the ocean to eat seals and small whales. Except now its in direct competition with Frost Giants and other large sea-dwelling predators. Most of which are either highly resistant or outright immune, to its breath weapon. So it becomes a high speed, hit and run predator, returning to its origins as a mostly aerial hunter. Swooping down on prey and getting out before anything else gets close.

This continues until the dragon is at least a Mature Adult, as at that point it should be able to effectively take on multiple Frost Giants. Now, the White Dragon is, arguably, at the top of the land-based food chain, though it has to watch out for some waterborne predators. Its 400 years old, and only now is it at the top of its local food chain. Most dragons have been here for quite a while.

So what does it do from here? Continue what it’s always done, be a large ambush predator, using ever more sophisticated tactics as it springs on its prey, possibly using bait and other lures to bring things into its reach. It may have found various ways to actually leverage its breath weapon, maybe it has an Energy Substitution feat for its Breath or it can Pierce Immunity? Each White Dragon will have carved out its specific hunting style and niche with blood, sweat and the shattered bodies of its prey. And each one will be a savage and implacable foe that will not be deterred. Because past Mature, the White Dragon only gets worse. Once it hits Gargantuan it knows that it is finally, at long last, the true Alpha Predator of the North and nothing will force it back into hiding.

Blue and Green Dragons can be bargained with, Black Dragons bribed or impressed, Red Dragons can be flattered, seduced, or otherwise have their egos stroked. White Dragons? White Dragons can’t be negotiated with. You have nothing they want, nothing they care for, because nothing other than its survival matters to it, and you are its prey, and nothing gets away from a White Dragon.

— Giant in the Playground Forum

[NB: The following are threads or other sources that you might want to read as background material. Or because at least some of them contain great posts.]

• Some thoughts on Mad Max
• So who wants to talk about OD&D?
• The Opposite of Zipper GMing
• The Original D&D Setting by Wayne Rossi, which I cannot recommend highly enough.
• The West Marches

In the search to further differentiate one’s own classic D&D¹ campaign from others, it’s possible to mutate the setting assumptions in a lot of different ways without actually changing the rules much. I think we’re mostly familiar with those ideas. What’s maybe not as familiar, though, is that D&D can feel a hell of a lot different if you go back to original or later classic D&D and follow the game’s rules as written, and figure out what the world looks like given that.

In the run-up to the newest Mad Max film being released, I’ve spent some time thinking about what it would take to make D&D feel post-apocalyptic. Most of my campaigns have already been what I like to call “polyapocalyptic,” which means that they clearly take place after an indefinite series of world-altering and civilization-destroying disasters. At a certain point, people might take a somewhat nihilistic point of view about the phenomenon, and accept that everything they’ve ever built might be destroyed by insect deities or meteor strikes tomorrow. If you love the Dying Earth books as much as I do, this might feel familiar.

The thing is, you don’t have to do a whole lot different. The DM builds a hexmap and doesn’t show it to the players. There are few cities, far apart and with very little communication between each other. The PCs have at best rumors of where those settlements might be. You could walk through the wastelands for days and see nobody, or you could run into a rampaging tribe of 300 orcs/bandits/whatever. Seriously, look at those wilderness encounter charts, they are insane.

If your horse dies while you’re out in the middle of the desert, we hope you like walking. So, if you really wanted to make things look more like this kind of setting, the following are things that I would do.

1. Bands of marauders are important and need to happen. However, if the PCs do in fact run into 300 orcs that turn out to be hostile, this doesn’t mean that 300 orcs jump out from behind a bush and attack. It probably means that the PCs stumble into a scouting party or part of the vanguard, and the main body is over a ridge or something. This gives you a fight with some stakes or an opportunity to run away, makes things feel a little more realistic, and also prevents the entire party from being slaughtered quite so suddenly. Also, now you have a plot thread dangling. The marauders led by Renf the Red-Handed have seen the party’s face, and may track them across the wastelands in addition to sacking any settlements that might happen to be out there.

2. Treasure takes a nose-dive in practical value. I think that gems and jewelry are still at least somewhat important, because bling (more on this later) is a vital survival tool. However, huge chests of coins are not useful outside the largest cities. In any smaller settlements, with their relatively narrow survival margin and slim expectations of seeing a traveling merchant any given month, something you can use to stay alive is worth more than coins. Now, if you can get back to one of the few large cities with a big score…you might have hit the jackpot.

3. Make encumbrance matter. I would suggest importing one of the more closely-tracked encumbrance systems from any retroclone you like. Food and water need to be heavy. Carrying enough water to get through a desert is a big, big deal. Animals need water too! Your horse is vitally important for carrying more weight than you could by yourself, but that means you need to spend an appropriate amount of effort taking care of them. The next town you encounter might not be willing to let a horse go for mere gold.

4. Market Classes: One of the oddities of D&D is that it isn’t uncommon for a gold ring to be worth 100gp, when that amount of coins might weigh ten pounds. I have generally assumed this to mean that the coinage is highly debased, whereas the metal used in jewelry is close to pure. I’d stick with that, and maybe say that coins are worth even less than usual. You could use something like the market classes from ACKS, and rule that a market counts as one or two classes lower if you are trying to buy things using coins. This means that, basically, you won’t be able to buy much stuff if all you have is GP. However, markets could be treated as their actual class if you are using gems/jewelry, and maybe one class higher if you are attempting to barter with things that people can use to live. A sack of gold coins and an oxcart full of steel ingots might have the same theoretical value, but in fact people are much more willing to trade goods for the latter, since you can do things like make a plow out of it. Now, that isn’t quite the way that supply & demand work, but it’s a starting point for a post I’m writing off the cuff.

5. Bling: One of the things that D&D has historically not paid enough attention to is playing dress-up. I don’t mean that the players should show up in costume. I mean that the PCs should be spending much more time on fantastical Vancian couture, terrifying battle-masks or makeup inspired by various parts of real-world history, necklaces made of their enemy’s teeth, and actually wearing the jewelry they’ve pulled out of various tombs in order to advertise that they are successful stone-cold badasses. I’ve instituted a rule in a lot of my campaigns that if you openly wear articles of jewelry, they don’t count towards your encumbrance. Ten CN worth of encumbrance here and there can make a big difference when you want portable wealth. Also, you can use it to modify reaction rolls (people can immediately tell that a sorceress with a 5,000gp crown of onyx and platinum is a VIP, and they’d probably better not fuck with her, or anyone else who can accumulate and keep that kind of wealth) and morale rolls (enemies might fight harder for a chance to loot the PCs’ goods.) So! Add rules for this. I suggest moving reaction rolls and morale rolls to 3d6 instead of 2d6, so you can make the range bands a bit wider and have room for a 1 or 2 point modifier without breaking the tables.

6. Goods. Going back to market classes. There are tools in ACKS (and probably other systems) for converting treasure into trade goods. So, if the PCs beat some bandits and the treasure table gives them 3,000gp, then what you might actually want to do as the DM is to say that in fact they just have 3,000 gp worth of trade goods, and then convert all of that to incense sticks, spices, valuable monster parts, wine, furs, et cetera. In a literally postapocalyptic campaign, I can’t recommend that highly enough. One, it makes encumbrance way more of a problem. They can’t just run off into the night with a purse full of jewels, they really need to get to that next big city while guarding a caravan of ox-carts full of whatever if they want their XP.

7. Slaves. This is kind of important. Forced labor is a huge economic driver, and also it gives you a powerful excuse to take PCs captive. You might want to insert some variant of the rules that let PCs survive being reduced to 0HP, so that they can wake up in shackles with all of their shit stolen. Furthermore, it’s close to always justifiable to kill off slavers, and lets you thematically wonder about if civilization is really worth rebuilding after all.

8. Constructions from different eras. I would strongly recommend a bit of historical grounding that the PCs can use to get a practical read on things. New settlements are wooden palisades, earthworks, log cabins, sod houses, crap like that. They’re crude but honest. The newer but still decadent cities are made of big stone blocks, quarried and hauled into place by slaves that live in thatch longhouses or something. Probably a lot of dry masonry there. The perimeter of the old civilization might have well-mortared fortresses or similar types of structures that are still standing, maybe occupied by tribes of people who couldn’t rebuild it if they wanted to. The dungeons underneath them are possibly still intact. The actual cities of the ancients might have glowing towers of crystal that are hard as steel, domes of pearlescent glass, remarkable types of concrete that none now know the making of. Those places aren’t typically squatted in because they’re full of weird alien horrors. It’s also where the miraculous devices of the ancients are to be found, of course, or piles of gold simply laying where it was left, never more than a bauble in the first place to the High Men who once lived there.

Well, that was a huge post, and I’m not sure if I actually said much of anything useful. I just wanted to get some more of my weird ideas written down while I had a bit of time.

¹ OD&D with or without supplements, Basic Set, B/X, BECMI, most retroclones.

— RPG.net Forums

Author’s emphases in italic. Mine are in bold.

Something that always interested me about undead creatures in certain systems is their XP-drain or level-drain. I enjoyed the concept because it made something as simple as a zombie unique mechanically. Other types of monsters didn’t have the same effect—a badger didn’t drain your levels, nor did a goblin. Among all the fodder available for adventures, it provided something unique mechanically that set undead apart and made them slightly more dangerous at the low level and extremely dangerous once you were dealing with vampires or liches.

I had a conversation awhile ago with a few others on the glog-ghetto discord channel about XP-draining undead and I recently remembered this conversation. The discussion included the mechanical side of things and its complexities, but what interested me more was the narrative side of things. How did losing experience from being damaged by an undead creature look in-world?

The Unbecoming-ining

Chances are you’ve read, watched, or played something that involves undead, probably zombies. Within popular media, they are an ever-present monster, though their popularity has waned somewhat in recent years. Usually, during the story involving undead, someone gets “bitten”. This is a problem because “undeath” is spread by undead-ness getting inside the body. This is usually done through being wounded, such as a bite or scratch, and the infection quickly overtaking the body, though there are occasions where it is spread through the air or water instead.

Once the infection happens, there is very rarely a chance to stop it. Few stories involving undead have a “cure” readily available, and if one does it exist, it exists too late for our dear secondary character. Instead, over time our beloved secondary character becomes worse and worse, to the point where they are no longer them but something else. Then they are dispatched and left behind. It is this “unbecoming” that is closest to the narrative progression of XP-drain.

You-ness and Experience Points

It isn’t that you are losing experience, per se; you are losing “you-ness”. When the zombie scratches you, narratively you slowly are becoming “not you”. You become an undead version of you or “you-adjacent”: like you, but not. Slowly or rapidly, the infection takes over and the same flesh sack is no longer inhabited by you, but an undead abomination.

I believe this narrative change of “you” to “you-adjacent” is best expressed through experience points. For those systems which use levels and experience points, experience points are a representation of your character’s past experiences. You only get experience points from battle you’ve won, not battles you will win. Thus, slowly, your character becomes better, stronger, wiser, smarter, whatever-er because they accrue more experiences and therefore more experience points.

In real-life, hopefully those who have more experiences under their belt are better than those who have less experiences. Hopefully they are wiser, smarter, stronger, whatever-er than someone with less experience. But as these experiences take place, the person changes as well. You are (hopefully) not the same you from 5 years ago, and (hopefully) the you of 2025 is different from the you of right now. Experience points then represent this life journey of growth, in a word. Just as in real-life we become someone different and hopefully better, so do our characters.

Not You, But Them

Your character grows into a better version of themselves, hopefully. More “whatever-er” than when you started. The growth is a positive change—something is being added to our characters to change them. Narratively, undeath is a negative change—something is being removed from our characters to change them. Mechanically, this is experience points; narratively this is you being converted to “not you”. And this is not a static process, but a slow bleed.

Undeath is converting living cells into undead cells, to the point where you die because of it. Except you don’t die as many think of it; you turn into the undead abomination. So when an undead creature drains your XP, they are taking “you” and converting it into “not you, but them”; they are taking your XP which is going to your levels and putting it into their levels which are now inside you. You are losing your “you-ness” and becoming “them”—same flesh sack, totally different entity. Those experience points become undead experience points, and once you hit the threshold to “level up” you “convert” into the undead abomination. Thus, you are not so much losing experience as you are converting experience into something else; in this case, undeath.

Be Afraid

Hopefully, everything I wrote above makes sense. It probably doesn’t in such an abstract form, but I tried. This narrative of slowly converting into something “not you, but them” is, to me, horrifying. It is a slow, nigh-unstoppable creep which will eventually claim you, like time! Having the narrative understanding alone makes even a zombie something any sensible adventurer, regardless of level, would avoid without proper protections or preparations, like holy water or a holy flamethrower.

That a single scratch, a single gulp of tainted water, or a single inhale of unfiltered air could begin the process of conversion is realistically terrifying. The closest analogy to the real-world I can think of would be radiation and cancer. Few would willingly go into a highly irradiated zone even with proper protections; fewer still without any protections. The radiation would produce something perhaps similar to undeath—cancer—which would slowly kill you if not treated. It isn’t body horror or jump-scare horror, both of which are lazy and uncreative derivations of horror. Rather it is something to be rightfully afraid of, for one does not want to become them.

— Narrative of Undeath – Stepped On a d4

Author’s emphases.

Alas, that blog is gone, and the Internet Archive does not have a copy of this blogpost. I have copied the entire text here for posterity.

Make very wounded creatures run away in fear for their life. Most do not feel like they need to fight to their death. Have enemies get killed by traps mid combat and make the players freak out that there are others in the area that they don’t know about. Raise the tension!!!

NARRATE. NARRATE. NARRATE. Combat is SOO BORING when it consists of: Attack. Roll to hit. Damage. Move on. NARRATE WHAT THE CHARACTERS ARE DOING. DESCRIBE YOUR ACTIONS. Make silly sound effects, crank it to 11. It’s more memorable, dynamic, and fun every single time.

Attackers only actually “miss” if they roll a 1. Instead attacks that don’t beat AC are dodged, blocked, ricocheted, bounce of armor, literally anything but the word “miss.” Players know their attack mattered at least narratively and they don’t look like fools for trying.

The objective of combat should almost never be to just defeat the opposition. Maybe you’re trying to rescue a hostage, maybe you’re trying to get away with a piece of treasure, maybe you’re trying to buy time for an evacuation. A fight for the sake of a fight is boring.

— @MagicMissilePod – Twitter

The body count in D&D really bums me out, especially when it comes to my players (my kids).

The kill count of an adventurer who makes it to level 20 is only one seen by a small number of machine gun operators in modern times. Soldiers who kill in war have high incidence of PTSD and other mental illness. I have a hard time getting away from that idea that this “Robocop 2”-level bodycount really makes the game bleak and sad.

What if…

• most enemies stopped attacking after half damage, and tried to reach safety instead
• when you take half your hit points worth of damage you get a level of exhaustion
• when you come back from zero hit points you have a level of exhaustion
• most opponents swoon or cower after 3/4 damage
• if you have killed a person, on a long rest you had to make a flat d20 roll and beat 10+ the number of people you killed or your rest doesn’t clear any exhaustion

Does that just ruin D&D or could it still be fun?

— Enworld Forums

Roleplaying games rarely address flaws like poor eyesight. Or hearing.

The only case I know of is the pre-generated magic-user character in the H1-H4 Bloodstone Pass series of Advanced Dungeons & Dragons modules. He is near-sighted and has eyeglasses. His character description lists a die-roll penalty for vision-related actions performed when not wearing the eyeglasses.

A few weeks ago, we talked about Stamina points as a resource players can spend. Today, we’re going to look at a different method, namely burning hit points for effect in more heroic games.

One of the oldest topics of D&D is what Hit Points actually represent, and while it’s inconsistent and imperfect, it’s generally accepted that it’s a vague mix of health, luck, endurance, luck and general good fortune.

Under these rules, characters can elect to sacrifice hit points to obtain rerolls and other benefits. By definition this will mainly benefit more experienced characters but it serves to give players another, mechanical, escape valve in a bad situation and it presents an interesting decision. While losing a hit point is almost always preferable to losing a saving throw, it will still leave you worn down by the end of the adventure.

These all reflect things that can come about through extreme efforts, whether pushing yourself physically or presenting a supreme effort of will.

Only one option from the below list can be selected in any given combat round. DM’s discretion if they must be spent before or after actions are resolved (in the case of rerolls)Please note that you could assign higher costs to some items. I elected to keep it simple.

By spending 1 hit point, a player may do any of the following:

• Make an additional melee attack.
• Move an additional 20% of their movement rate.
• Leave a combat without taking a “free swing” from the enemy.
• Reroll a failed saving throw.
• Take a hit for a comrade in the same melee (or adjacent if missile fire)
• Reroll a failed thief skill.
• Act before any other characters in a combat round (and simultaneously with characters that magically act first)
• Negate the effects of surprise for 1 combat round.
• Inflict 2 additional damage with a successful hit (melee or ranged).
• Reroll the damage dice or healing dice for a spell.
• Reroll any skill or proficiency check.
• Get one clue from the GM regarding a puzzle or situation.
• Reroll a reaction roll.
• Negate the effect of a critical hit.

Too radical? Not radical enough? Other things that should go on the list? Let me know in the comments!

— Hit Points As a Resource? – The Daily OSR

Alas, that blog is gone, and the Internet Archive does not have a copy of this blogpost. I have copied the entire text here for posterity.

As I read more classics I find that different mythologies seem to present entirely different worlds. The world of the Iliad, for example, is so different in certain ways from that of the Irish Fiona, that the systems which run these mythologies would have to be in some ways intrinsically different. For example, the handling of magic. In the Irish World of the Fiona, magic is imbued into the very living substance of the universe, and the question is how easily one can migrate between our world and the Otherworld (tir na nog). In the Iliad, however, there is no sense of humans transporting between worlds, but rather it is the Gods who step down from on high and invade ours. Rare is the hero who enters the Otherworld in Greek Myth. Common is he who does so in the Celtic Mythos.

Were I to create a world for running an “Iliad” game, that world would have Gods of non-infinite powers, who act directly in the game, who can be wounded by mortals (such as Diomedes, who causes Aphrodite to bleed the famous Ichor of the Gods), and who scheme and connive their way throughout the entire fabric of the story. In fact it is a story about the competitions and victories of the Gods, and almost incidentally about the Heroes. This world would require strong rules for handling God-like Powers, and for it to be reasonably sporting, the Player Characters would pretty much need to be Heroes and the children of the Gods. Conversely, you could play it low level, in the same world, where the Player Characters come within approximate range of the Heroes, get occasionally swept up (dangerously so, I should think) in their Quests, and perhaps return to the village either a richer or wiser or stronger somehow. Either way, it would be an interesting world, but the rules would have to support it.

On the other hand, when we look at such fairy tales as Kil Arthur, the son of the King of Erin, I think we’d find that a different set of rules would be required. Or if not the rules themselves, at least the parameters of those rules in which our game would operate. It could certainly be played at almost any level, as what influence the Gods may have in these stories, there is little obvious to tell. An impulse to go here, a ship perhaps sent on the wind to a magical island, or the appearance of a giant over the edge of a hill…none of which seem named to occur by the dictate of any particular deity as in the Greek mythos. No, rather it is the Character who has chanced to enter, perhaps, the Otherworld, and knowingly or otherwise, has entered upon some quest. The mood is mysterious and vague and clouded, unlike the Greeks, whose tales were starkly brilliant in their divine clarity. We know each of the Gods and all of their motives, arguments, stratagems, and follies with the Greeks.

I wonder if anyone here has attempted to put these kinds of worlds to the test in their RPGs, and how did you go about GMing for it, and how did it work out?

— The Iliad as Source Material – Literary RPG Society of Westchester

Alas, that forum is gone, and the Internet Archive does not have a copy of this post. I have copied the entire text here for posterity.

One of the interesting effects of enforcing encumbrance is that you realize how useful porters and linkboys can be. Hireling loyalty is a fun mini-game in and of itself.

— Dragonfoot Forums

…An increased importance of leveling up comes from the campaign itself being unrewarding. When gaining levels and ability becomes the center of playing the game, it’s a substitute for lackluster events and stakes.

— Enworld Forums

Low level D&D play is about struggling against the [ever-present] specter of Death in a dark, lonely dungeon filled with monsters.

High level D&D play is about the monsters trying to survive the PCs.

High level play should be about your PCs having fun and going nuts with their power. Too many DMs and system designers don’t get it and don’t like it, and try to find ways to bring PCs back down to the relative power of beginner characters. Players, on the other hand, have an instinctive desire to make their characters ever more wildly powerful.

— Low level vs High level chars – Farooq’s Gaming Blog

Thank the gods for the Internet Archive Wayback Machine, else I could not have linked to the source blogpost.

What’s your favourite kind of encounter in a roleplaying game?

One or two word answers only.

— @StoutStoatPress – Twitter

Fellow travellers: lost merchants, questing knights, itinerant wizards, philosopher-vagrants, lonely pilgrims.

Philosopher-vagrants are a whole thing I invented for Lendal so I could add more of these.

— @JellyMuppet – Twitter