Year: 2011

Thoughts On Hero Points

Hero points, alternatively known as action points, have been a part of tabletop role playing games since days of yore. They’re a quirky and polarizing concept, often lurking around the edge of a game system’s rules. A hero point mechanic for any given game is either a very commonly used house rule, or it’s an optional rule presented in an officially published supplement. There are those games which use them as standard rules (D&D 4th Edition comes to mind), but in my experience those games are in the minority.

For those who are unfamiliar, a game which employs such a mechanic allows characters to gain hero points through [insert method here]. Once acquired, one of these points can be spent to bend the game’s rules. A missed attack can be re-rolled, a difficult task can be simplified, or a player who has exhausted a special ability can sneak in an additional use. Pathfinder’s “Advanced Player’s Guide” offers such a system as an optional rule, with points being gained any number of ways. From leveling up, to completing a plot arc, to performing a heroic act.

My biggest problem with hero point systems is that they are, by definition, a meta-game mechanic. The core of role playing games is establishing characters which act within an internally consistent world. It seems odd, then, that we would intentionally break the wall between the game world and the real world by introducing a mechanic which muddles the internal consistency of a world. After all, only player characters get hero points in most systems. Ergo, once hero points are an option, the PCs are no longer simple characters within the game world. They are, rather, avatars of otherworldly beings (the players) which grants them special abilities. Pathfinder is particularly bad in this area, and goes so far as to provide feats, spells, and magic items which interact with hero points. So not only do you gain access to a completely unique ability merely on the basis of being a player character, you can even build your character around this uniqueness which separates you from rest of the world.

Another reason which I don’t like hero points is the way in which they mitigate danger. By allowing players to re-roll when the result is poor, we give them a much higher probability of avoiding pivotal failures. While this may not sound like the worst thing ever, it creates three undesirable situations. First and foremost in my mind is that avoiding pivotal failures often means avoiding interesting failures. In a standard game, the cleric fails his jump over the pit of spikes. He falls 40 feet, takes his damage, but survives. However, his legs have been impaled by the spikes, and the other players must find a way to rescue him from bleeding to death at the bottom of a pit. Or, the wizard uses an action point and the game continues on without incident. Which story will the players be talking about after the adventure is over?

Second, avoiding pivotal failures makes the whole world around the character much less dangerous. Part of the thrill of stealing from a dragon’s horde is knowing that the dragon could wake up at any moment. If you know you’ve got a hero point in the wings ready to save you from a bad stealth roll, then the adventure’s edge is dulled. And that leads right into problem three: compensation. Any time players become more powerful, the GM gives them greater challenges. I’ve used that argument to defend giving PCs more power on numerous occasions, but with hero points I think the argument works in reverse. Giving a character a powerful magic weapon is fun for that character, and enhances gameplay. It’s worth beefing up the adventure for that. But given all of the ways in which hero points detract from gameplay, why give them to players when the end result is just a game which requires player’s to use Hero Points to survive?

Bearing all of that in mind, there is at least one thing about hero points which I find appealing. Hero points have the potential to be used as a kind of “Last ditch, adrenalin pumping, now-or-never” means by which players can attempt to pull a win out of an almost certainly deadly situation. I had such a situation in a game not too long ago. My players weren’t quite up to defeating the Corpse Sewn Hekatonkheires which ambushed them. The sorcerer was dead at -15 hp, and the Dawnblade (homebrew fighter/cleric class) was desperately attempting to hold the beast at bay while looking for a means to escape. After some arbitration between us, I allowed him to use his healing wand & make a standard attack (albeit at a -8 penalty)on the same turn, which would normally not be allowed. The attempt failed, and the Dawnblade was felled by the beast, but I decided then that I wanted my players to have some kind of option to better facilitate that kind of cornered-animal effort.

Hero points were the obvious choice, but I’ve always been turned off by them for aforementioned reasons. It wasn’t until last night when I was looking at the Star Wars Roleplaying Game rulebook that I struck upon an idea. West End Games’ Star Wars is one of the few games I’ve encountered where hero points are a central mechanic. It’s also the only system I’ve ever encountered where hero points actually make complete sense, and avoid being a meta game mechanic. But that’s a different post.

In the Star Wars RPG, ‘character points’ are primarily used as action points. Characters acquire a handful of them at the end of an adventure based on how awesome they were. A character might only receive 1 if all they did was make it through the adventure, but could receive 5 if they made it through the adventure by wrestling a shark into submission then throwing the shark at a stormtrooper. Aside from simply being used to add an extra die to a roll, though, character points can be used for character improvement. Since the game has no classes or levels, improving the skills by spending large amounts of character points is the only way for a character to permanently become more formidable. Essentially, Star Wars’ version of hero points also functions as that system’s experience points.

So what if I just switched it around?

Since I use the Pathfinder Simple XP System (and loving it, by the way), I’m already dealing with small, manageable numbers. All I need do is allow players to spend 1 experience point to gain the benefits of spending an action point. Here’s what that rule might look like:

Pathfinder House Rule: Using Simple XP as Hero Points

By pushing themselves the the limit, characters can sometimes perform feats beyond the normal scope of their abilities. At will, as a free action, a character may sacrifice 1 experience point (so long as this does not reduce the character’s level) to perform any one of the following actions:

Act Out of Turn: An experience point can be spent to take your turn immediately, permanently moving your place in the initiative order to whenever this action was taken.

Bonus: Prior to making any roll, an experience point can be spent to grant a +8 bonus to that roll. This ability cannot be used at all after the roll is made. Multiple experience points can be spent, and their effects stack.

Extra Action: During your turn, an experience point may be spent to grant you an additional standard action. This can only be done once per turn.

Recall: An experience point may be spent to use an ability which you have access to, but which has already been used up for the day, or was not prepared. This includes casting spells after the daily spell allotment is cast, using special abilities after their daily limits are used up, or casting a spell from a spellbook which was not memorized for that day. Bear in mind that if a wizard wishes to cast a spell he or she has not memorized, and they are out of spell slots for the appropriate level, two experience points must be spent.

Special: You can petition your GM to allow you to spend an experience point to perform a number of abilities. GMs should use the options presented here as a guide for how to balance this ability. Also, bear in mind, that an experience point can never be spent to re-roll a die.

On paper, this system looks like it fixes a lot of problems. It’s still something of a meta-game mechanic, as the connection between performing a spectacular action and losing experience is tenuous. But NPCs can also use the system, which removes the problem of the player characters being a class apart from the rest of the world. In theory, it also obliterates the danger problem. Hero points exist for the sole purpose of being used to perform great deeds, so that’s what players will use them for. XP, though, is far more precious. Players will not spend it lightly, because doing so will prevent them from leveling. Any player which did overuse this system would quickly be left in the dust as the rest of the party leveled higher and higher whilst the problem character remained low level.

Perhaps my favorite thing about this variation on hero points is the simplicity. By integrating it with the XP system, players won’t need to find a place for yet another number on their already cluttered character sheets. The GM won’t need to keep track of when to award hero points, because he or she is already keeping track of when to award XP. Aside from the “no re-rolls” stipulation, there’s not even any additional rules to memorize. The players regulate the system themselves, because they don’t want to lose experience.

I’ll be implementing this in my games for now. I hope it’s as effective as it looks!

Online Video: LoadingReadyRun's Rarelywinter

I’ve been a Loading Ready Run fan for years now. (LRRmon for life!) I’ve always enjoyed their nerdy brand of sketch comedy, and it’s especially fun for me when their nerdiness culminates in a Dungeons & Dragons video. They’ve done a few before (and even a Pathfinder video once!) but those aren’t exactly news. This video was just posted today:

LoadingReadyRun : Rarelywinter

For the record, I’m pretty sure Jer is being a bad GM intentionally for the sake of comedy. But it still serves as a good example of what not to do. Here are all the GMing pitfalls I caught in the video:

  • Discouraging your players from jumping into their role play is a bad idea. As a GM, your goal is to help them get in character, not obstruct them from doing so.
  • Joking about wanting to kill your players is fine, every GM does it. But a GM’s job is to facilitate fun. Feeling as though you’re constantly in completely over your head, and dying because of it, isn’t fun.
  • When your players are facilitating their own in-character fun, never stop them. If your players want to name the dragon, let them do that for as long as it seems like everyone is having fun. (Out of character joking, on the other hand, should be corralled by the GM. You don’t need to ban it, you just don’t want it to take over the game.)
  • Of course there’s cheese in Neverwinter. As the GM, he should have come up with a name and given it to them. Not only does it make sense, and help facilitate the player’s fun (see my point above), but it ALSO ends the discussion on what to name the dragon, which is ostensibly what he wants anyway.

Again, I’m sure Jer knows all these things. The video was funny, I just thought I’d do a quick critique of the GM to add some content to the post.

This doesn’t count as your regularly scheduled Monday post, by the way. That will still go up later this evening, as normal.

WEG Star Wars: What It Was, and Why You Should Play It

I am a Star Wars fan. I’ve read every book based off the original trilogy at least twice. Some of them I’ve read five or even ten times. I keep the audio books around as well, which I’ve probably listened to hundreds of times each. At the age of 11, I wrote the editors with omissions I had found in the Star Wars Encyclopedia When I was 12 years old when I attended the midnight showing of The Phantom Menace, and despite how terrible that and Attack of the Clones both were, I was still at the midnight showing for Revenge of the Sith. I cried over the death of Chewbacca, and I cried harder over the death of Anakin Solo. And when Jaina Solo was forced to kill Jacen? That haunted me for days. I still break down crying every time I try to read through that chapter.  

Star Wars is my great, lifelong obsession. And “The Star Wars Roleplaying Game” Second Edition published by West End Games is among the greatest tabletop role playing games I’ve ever encountered. You really don’t even need to read the rest of this post. If you don’t have it, you need to find it, and buy it, now. Once you have it in your hands, you can read the rest of this post to learn why the choice to make that purchase was the right one.  

The entire system is designed to keep game sessions fast paced and exciting. The rules are very simple, the character creation is minimalistic, and any actions which requires a roll are handled with one of two basic systems. If a player is attempting to do something to another player or NPC, the two make opposed dice checks (such as “shoot” and “dodge”) and whoever gets the highest succeeds. For any other kind of action, the GM just picks a difficulty number (based of a difficulty chart which GMs should memorize) and asks for a roll. Simply put, that’s it. Much as I love Pathfinder’s more complex rules, there’s something freeing about switching gears and running something with almost no rules at all. To put it in the words of the system’s designers:

Keep the Game Moving Quickly. Star Wars is supposed to be exciting. Laser bolts fly fast and furious, starships dodge around asteroids, and speeder bikes race through thick forests at frightening speeds. Keep the game moving as fast as the Star Wars movies!

Even the core rulebook is fast paced. Chapter 1 starts off with a solo adventure where the book plays the role of game master, and the reader takes on the role of a player. It plays out sort of like a ‘choose your own adventure’ book with dice occasionally thrown into the mix. In whole, the player’s portion of the rulebook is sixty six pages long, including the adventure at the beginning. In comparison, the D&D 3.5 Player’s Handbook has 317 pages. Pathfinder’s core rulebook doesn’t get past the player section until page 393! WEG Star Wars is a definitely a game which adheres to the old school role playing philosophy of keeping most of the mechanics away from the players to better simulate the fantasy.

Like Pathfinder, WEG Star Wars characters have six basic attributes; Dexterity, Knowledge, Perception, Strength, Mechanical, and Technical. Each of these has a certain number of six sided dice attached to it during character creation. (WEG Star Wars only uses six sided dice.) For example, a human character gets 18 dice total, and has a minimum of 2 dice and a maximum of 4 dice in each of the six attributes. After filling the minimum requirements, players have 6 dice to spread between their six abilities. Once in play, any action which requires a roll will be associated with one of the six abilities, and the player gets to roll however many dice they allocated for that attribute. For example, hitting something with a blaster requires the ability to aim the blaster accurately, so you would roll your dexterity. If you went ahead and maxed out your dexterity, then you’d be able to roll 4d6 against your opponent’s dodge. And if he or she rolls lower than you did, the blaster bolt hits! And given how dangerous combat is treated in this game, there’s a good chance getting hit by that blaster bolt killed them.

There’s also a skills system for more specific tasks. Each character starts out with 7 dice to apply to skills. So even though you have 4 dice in dexterity, you could put another 2 dice in the Blasters skill, and be able to roll a whopping 6 dice whenever you try to hit somebody. Dice can also be split up. Each die counts as 3 “pips,” which is WEG’s code for bonuses. Essentially, if you’ve put 2 skill die into blasters, 3 into medicine, and 1 into starfighter piloting, and can’t decide where to put your last die, you can just break it up. Add a +2 to starfighter piloting (making the skill 1d6 + 2) and a +1 to blasters.

All praise aside, there is one thing about West End Games’ masterpiece which I really don’t like. I can’t find anybody to play it. New players curious about the hobby are normally the most interested in playing Dungeons and Dragons. It’s probably the only game they’ve heard of, and it’s the one which drew their attention to the hobby in the first place. Others are wary of playing a Star Wars game, either because they don’t think they’re familiar enough with the mythos to keep up, or because they don’t like games based on movies/television/etcetera.

I did manage to play a few sessions of the game once. In the first session, my player (I only had one) managed to steal a ship, which he painted bright orange and christened “Stealth Ship.” He was too lazy to hire a crew for it, so I gave him a wookie communications officer. By the second session he had been hired by the rebellion to free some prisoners from an Imperial prison camp. One of them as it turned out, was his psychotic ex girlfriend, who shot him. By the time the second session ended, he had recovered, been chased around the corridors of an abandoned Star Destroyer by the same psychotic ex, and narrowly escaped form said Star Destroyer just before it exploded. We never got to session three, which is sad, because the rebellion was going to commission him to find them a new hiding place “now that the Yavin base has been compromised.” I was going to let him re-shape the original trilogy by becoming an incredibly important, off-screen character. It would have been glorious.

Buy the game. You will not regret it. And, once you have it, all you need to do is move to WA state so we can play it together…

…forever…

We Be Goblins! (You Be Food!)

“We Be Goblins!” is a charming little Pathfinder module which Paizo has made available as a free PDF through their online store. I printed out a copy a month or so ago, and thoroughly enjoyed reading it. Despite the short length of only 16 pages, there are some remarkably charming touches which make this module memorable for me. The adventure is well designed with a good mix of challenges for the players. The pregenerated characters are interesting, and developed well enough to give players a baseline to role play from without being constricting. There’s a good sense of humor throughout the adventure as well, with a number of catchy songs scribbled in the margins. I must admit, I’ve recited a few of them to myself while driving. They are quite catchy:

We be Licktoads! We Make Raid!
Put the longshanks to the blade!
Burn them up from feet to head,
Make them hurt, then make them dead!

Cut the parents into ham,
Smush the babies into Jam,
All the rest in pot get stewed,
We be Licktoads – YOU BE FOOD!

Which brings me to one of the biggest draws to this module: playing as evil goblins. Players have never been prevented from playing as evil characters, or from playing as goblins; the Monster Manuals and Bestiaries even have racial traits for goblins which players could use if they liked. But as I’ve discussed in the past, while not forbidden it’s certainly not encouraged. Despite that, something about Pathfinder’s version of goblins has caught hold of players. As any sensible company should, Paizo is cashing in on that with a number of products. The artist who designed Pathfinder’s Goblins can be thanked for that, I think. He or she somehow managed to take the most generic-of-the-generic fantasy monster, and reinvent them into something which is both classic and novel, adorable and terrifying all at once. The song above is a testament to all four seemingly contradictory traits.      

On a lark last weekend, I decided I wanted to see how this adventure played at the table. What’s more, I wanted to do it with enough people for all four of the pregenerated characters to be in play. So during the week I conferred with the players from two of my gaming groups. Remarkably, each of them had Saturday free. Considering how difficult it can be to get either group together for a game, I thought it might be a titanic effort to get both together at once. But everybody was open to my first suggested date and time. So this morning I got up, cleaned my apartment, and was going over my notes just in time for people to start arriving.  

The opening of the adventure is somewhat wordy for my tastes. My rule of thumb is three paragraphs. If I’ve got more than three paragraphs to read before the players get to start taking action and making choices, then I edit down. I may pride myself on my writing, but my friends didn’t make room in their busy schedules to listen to me read aloud. They came to play a game. All the same, the introduction didn’t go off too poorly. The players got a good sense of who and where they were. But to be honest, if I were to run it again I think I would cut a lot of the introductory crap and jump into the bonfire as quick as I could. That’s where the game really got moving.

After the goblin leader provides the PCs with their mission in the opening scene, the tribe has a bonfire celebration to, as cheif Gutwad says, “burn bad luck away from [the PCs].” Essentially it’s a big rowdy goblin party in honor of the PC’s upcoming quest. Here, I think, would have been a much better place for a lot of the exposition which happened at the start of the adventure. Rather than have the goblin chief tell the players to avoid the creature known as Lotslegs Eat Goblin Babies Many, the PCs could have overheard frightening stories about it from other goblins during the feast. But this is a minor nitpick at worst.  

The content of the bonfire are four “dares,” as the goblins call them. To test the bravery of the PCs, the tribe presents them with challenges. If they succeed, they are rewarded with the right to borrow a few pieces of magical gear. If they fail, or refuse the challenge, they are mercilessly mocked. I must admit I was somewhat worried that this was the kind of thing which sounded good on paper, but wouldn’t work out in play, but I was wrong. It was during this more lighthearted, role-playing heavy activity that my players really started to get into their characters. I’m not often fortunate enough to have excited, in-character conversations going on between players. More on that later.  

My players ended up succeeding at each of the four challenges without much incident. It was then that I began to realize that the pregenerated characters were extremely overpowered. I honestly cannot comprehend how the rogue managed to have a +16 to his stealth check at level 1. [Edit: Okay, I see. The Goblin size bonus, and the Goblin racial bonus, stack.] This ended up detracting from the game somewhat, as I never really felt the characters were in real danger. Though, in fairness, I did significantly reduce the difficulty of each of the challenges. Not to make things easier, but simply because I can’t make it seem exciting to ask players to make a DC 15 ride check three times in a row.    

In the morning, the players set off on the grand one mile (1/6th of a hex) journey to the grounded ship marked on the treasure map, and the cache of fireworks it held. They were nearly there when they were accosted by Lotslegs Eat Goblin Babies Many, a giant spider who hungered for goblin flesh! Two of my cowardly players hid from the beast, the rogue succeeding at doing so despite the bells which another player had secretly attached to her clothes. The fight was brief, with minimal damage on the part of the players. Considering that this is probably the second most difficult fight in the adventure, I was somewhat disappointed in how quickly the spider was felled.  

From there, the players moved on to reach the ship. And that is where things took a turn for the awesome. One of the four goblins is a cleric named Poog. According to his character sheet, Poog is ashamed of being one of the worst animal riders in the clan. The character sheet also says Poog is brave to the point of being overconfident. So when Poog was acting as a scout into the the muddy area surrounding the ship, and was charged by a rabid horse, Poog’s immediate response was:  

“POOG WILL RIDE HORSE!” Complete with my player’s best goblin voice.

As it turned out, Poog failed to mount the charging beast, but managed to deal it a crushing blow by bracing his javelin in the mud when the horse came around for a second charge. From there on in, the events of the game took a back seat to the hilarious role playing exchanges between the characters. The woman playing the aforementioned rogue took it upon herself to goad Poog on. She heaped insults onto him, and quickly discovered that there was nothing she couldn’t get Poog to do by simply telling him that he wasn’t good enough to do it. And all of this simply goaded Poog onward, culminating “POOG CAN RIDE ANYTHING!” being shouted several times. In one combat, Poog and the Rogue actually took turns mounting and pushing each other off of a very confused dog which the other two party members were desperately trying to kill.  

The climax of the adventure came when the four goblins were attempting to flee the ship with their firework booty. Just as they were about to escape, they were accosted by Vorka, the goblin cannibal whose fireworks they had just stolen. She had cast Spider Climb on herself before the party reached her, so her first action in combat was to walk up the vertical mast of the ship high enough so that melee attacks couldn’t reach her. Unfortunately, this prompted Poog to remember that he’d earned an Elixer of Dragon’s Breath during the bonfire challenges. Before the rest of the party knew what was happening, the mast was on fire, and Vorka was quickly jumping down onto the deck to avoid the flames.  

The rest of the adventure proceded entirely without incident. Vorka’s rolls were so terrible that she was killed without much of a fuss. And despite my attempt to destroy the player’s fireworks by having the chest catch on fire, they were all dexterous enough to get the prized explosives to safety before they were ignited.  

Having now played through it, “We Be Goblins!” is an entertaining way to spend four hours. It suffers significantly from lack of challenge, though. When I run a one-shot game such as this one, my expectation is to see one or more players lose their lives. Since they’re never going to play these characters again anyway, what’s the point of coddling them? This failing is particularly bad since the game comes with its own pregenerated characters. If they knew how powerful the PCs would be, why couldn’t they make the adventure a little tougher to give it the edge it was missing?  

I must reiterate that it was fun, though. It brought my group together and gave them a situation which they had a lot of fun with. I’d be a little wary of starting up yet another campaign, but I’m pretty sure everyone agreed that it would be fun to return to those characters (and that group) again someday.  

Maybe I’ll run them through an edited version of The Sunless Citadel next…

Colorful Characters 5: Delana The Gravedigger

Delana was born in the town of Obleton to a local widow. The widow, a seamstress by trade, had a brief tryst with an elven ranger who was passing through Obleton with his adventuring party. Though Delana’s mother never saw her elven lover again, she always spoke fondly of him to her half-elven daughter.

Like most half elves, Delana had a difficult childhood. As a member of a much longer lived species, she matured much slower than the other children in the village. A decade passed for her the way a pair of years passed for her fellows. Childhood friends matured quickly enough to have children of their own for Delana to engage with as peers.

One day, as a child of twenty, Delana was out with a hunting party. She was learning to track and to use a bow in an attempt to be closer to the father she had never met by emulating his craft. During the hunt, she came into a clearing where she found herself separated from her companions. In the clearing stood a shambling undead, which began inching towards her with hunger in its eyes. The young half elf fled and rejoined her companions, warning them of the nearby danger.

The group decided to find and kill the beast, but by the time they returned to the clearing, it was gone. Given Delana’s mental age, they assumed the child simply had an overactive imagination. Delana’s pleas for them to trust her fell on deaf ears. Later that night, Delana awoke to a wet smacking sound. The undead had returned, and was eating her companions. She screamed, and the creature turned to attack her. It bit her on the forearm, tearing away a large chunk of meat. The girl flailed, and somehow managed to escape, fleeing into the woods.

Delana was lost in the wood for four days, and lost a great deal of blood before she stumbled back into Obleton. Her mother and the townsfolk tended to her wounds and her exhaustion as best they could, but she was never quite the same. It was a full decade before she spoke a single word to anyone again, and when she did speak what she said was often cryptic. More disturbing still was that what she said could often be interpreted later as descriptions of events which had not yet occurred when she spoke.

Fifty years later, Delana’s mother passed away. Now a fully grown and developed half elf, Delana dug her mother’s grave, buried her, and set the tombstone in place with her own two hands. Every day for weeks Delana returned to the graveyard, visiting not only her mother’s grave, but each of the graves in turn. Shortly thereafter, she requested that the townspeople help her build a small home for herself near the graveyard, so as to free her mother’s larger home up for the next young couple to start a family in the village.

Delana has continued to live in the village of Obleton through the many decades and centuries of her life. The town has always been kind to her, and in her peculiar way Delana has worked to protect the town and its inhabitants. She very rarely speaks to anyone, but she is always kind when she does. Those who now live in Obleton (now a much larger town) are generations removed from anyone who knew Delana as a young woman. People often wonder why she came to their small town, never realizing that she has lived there her entire life.

The old woman still helps with the hunting occasionally, but it is a skill she never quite took to. Her livelihood is supported by the village. The only real work she does is in the graveyard. It is well known locally that when old woman Delana begins to dig, someone will be dead by the time she reaches six feet deep.

Personality

Delana is not crazy. She is, in fact, quite sharp for a half elf of such advanced age. Many of her mannerisms are eccentric, though. She does not speak much, preferring to listen. When she does speak, she is often cryptic. If pressed for a more firm answer, she merely chuckles as though her oblique answers are a joke which only she understands.

Delana does have two very strong convictions. First, if she believes that the village or anyone in it is in danger, she will bring all of her abilities to bear on the problem. She will offer help as clearly as she can, though, even when trying to be clear, her responses are often difficult to understand. Second, Delana has a great fear of, and hatred for, the undead. A lifetime of outliving friends has made Delana very comfortable with death, and the perversion of it which is represented by undeath enrages her.

She knows that the sorcerous powers which have slowly manifested since that first encounter with an undead creature include abilities which she views as abhorrent, and she has done her best to turn her focus away from them.

If faced with a choice between raising the dead and allowing Obleton to be destroyed, it is unclear which conviction would prove stronger in Delana’s mind. It is certain, though, that failure to uphold either would break the poor old woman’s mind.

Tactics

Delana is not a fighter, but if attacked she is more likely to fight with her shovel than with her few offensive spells. If Delana is reduced to below 50% health, she will begin casting Cone of Cold and other frost based damaging spells, as well as any non-evil necromancy spells.

Delana will never cast evil necromancy spells, such as Animate Dead, except under extreme duress. The guilt of doing so would likely either drive her completely mad, or cause her to commit suicide.

Thoughts on Use

Delana is intended to be a seer in the traditional fantasy sense. Goodly characters can seek her foresight and wisdom to aid them on whatever quest they are on. Delana’s cryptic nature allows the GM some room to toy with players by forcing them to puzzle out the meaning of Delana’s answer before proceeding further.

Interesting Facts

-Delana refers to graves as “beds,” and to death as a type of sleep. Something which she might say is “I make the beds for the long sleep we all must take.”

-As a joke, Delana refers to her trusty shovel by the name “Samuel.” She often acts as thought she believes the shovel is her husband.

-Delana can often be found walking amongst the graves mumbling to herself. Unbeknownst to the townsfolk, she is reciting the life story of those who are buried there. She has committed each to memory. For most of the graves, she knows the story because she was part of the life of that person. For others, she has used her divination spells to learn of their life, and taken care to memorize it accurately.

Delana, The Gravedigger (CR 12)

XP: 19,200
Female Half Elf Sorcerer 14
NG humanoid
224 years old (Venerable)
Init +0; Senses Perception +31

Defenses

AC 10, Flat Footed 10, Touch 10 [10 + Armor(0)]
hp 84 (14d6 + 28)
dr 10/- (Nonlethal damage only)
Resistance 10/Cold
Fort +5 Ref +4 Will + 16 (May Reroll Will 1/Day)

Offense

Speed 30ft
Melee Samuel The Shovel + 9/+4 (1d8 + 2/20 x2)
Sorcerer Spells (CL 14th; Concentration +18; +2 save DC for Divination spells)
7th (3/day)– Greater Scrying, Finger of Death
6th (5/day)– Legend Lore, True Seeing, Undeath to Death
5th (6/day)– Wave of Fatigue, Cone of Cold, Telepathic Bond, Contact Other Plane
4th (7/day)– Detect Scrying, Locate Creature, Scrying, Bestow Curse, Animate Dead
3rd (7/day)– Arcane Sight, Clairaudience/Clairvoyance, Tongues, Gentle Repose, Vampiric Touch
2nd (7/day)– Detect Thoughts, Locate Object, See Invisibility, Blindness/Deafness, Scare, False Life
1st (7/day)– Comprehend Languages, Detect Undead, Identify, Cause Fear, Ray of Enfeeblement, Chill Touch
0 (at will)– Detect Magic, Detect Poison, Read Magic, Bleed, Disrupt Undead, Touch of Fatigue, Light, Ghost Sound, Ray of Frost
Bloodline Undead
Bloodline Powers
Grave Touch (7/Day) — touch attack causes living creature to become shaken for 7 rounds.
Death’s Gift — Cold Resist 10, DR10/- v. Nonlethal Damage
Grasp of the Dead (1/Day) — Skeletal arms attack foes. (See Pathfinder Core Rulebook page 77)

Stats

Str 15 (+2) Dex 10 (+0) Con 13 (+1) Int 13 (+1) Wis 21 (+5) Cha 18 (+4)
Base Atk +7/+2; CMB +9/4; CMD 19
Feats Eschew Materials, Skill Focus(Perception), Toughness, Iron Will, Still Spell, Silent Spell, Quicken Spell, Alertness, Improved Iron Will, Spell Focus (Divination), Greater Spell Focus (Divination)
Skills Perception (+31), Profession(Gravedigger) (+19), Spellcraft(+15), Sense Motive (+7)
Languages Common, Elven
Gear Rags for clothing, Samuel the Shovel, 17 copper

Spicing Up The Battlemat: Water

After my previous post about improving D&D/Pathfinder battlefield environments went up, someone asked me via my twitter feed what combat would be like in water. The thought made me cringe. Water is a difficult environment for a number of reasons. Chief amongst them is that attempting to perform actions in water can slow the movement of a game down to a crawl. There’s also the fact that it’s much more difficult to represent three dimensional movement on a battlemat, and the fact that water tends to be pretty uniform and uninteresting as a combat environment.

Despite those factors which make water a headache, there are times when water combat is appropriate or even required. Players love to do things like sail ships, or explore sunken cities, and in a world like Pathfinder’s, monsters lurk anywhere an adventurer might wish to go. So, with the hopes of making myself a better GM, I took some time today to consider water combat, and how it might affect gameplay. I divided the problem up into three sub categories: shallow water, deep water, and under water, each of which is detailed separately below. It also helps to be familiar with the swim skill (Pathfinder Core Rulebook page 108) and the water dangers section of the environment chapter (Pathfinder Core Rulebook page 445)

Keep in mind that these are primarily ideas for use on-the-fly by GMs. None of these are intended to be house ruled mechanics for water combat. Nor is are these lists intended to be a comprehensive gathering of everything which could happen to a character while fighting in or on water.

Shallow Water
A shallow water combat environment is defined as one in which the players are standing on their feet in some depth of water. Examples might include a stream or river, or near the shore of any larger body of water such as a lake or sea.

  • Speed: In water up to a character’s knees, speed should be reduced by 5. In water up to a character’s waist or higher should reduce movement speed by half. Keep in mind that different size characters will deal with these issues at different depths of water.
  • Strong Current: If there is a strong current present, the GM should be aware of it. Moving against the current could further reduce a character’s speed by 5, while moving with it might increase a character’s speed by 5. A character’s speed in shallow water should never exceed their land speed unless they decide to start floating and allow the currents to propel them.
  • Slippery Rocks: Underwater stones in shallow water make poor footholds. If a character is walking on slippery stones, moving at their full available speed, many standard actions such as attacking, or taking damage, should force them to make a reflex save (DC 10-12) or fall prone. Moving at half their available speed, or using a full round action to perform a standard action, gives a character enough time to find solid footing, which won’t require any save.
  • Stuck Foot: Any time a character makes a move action, there is a chance that the character’s foot may become stuck. Either by becoming lodged between two rocks, or sucked down into a muddy riverbed. When this happens, a character may either use a move action to free it, or if he or she is willing to lose their shoe, a swift action. Determining where a foot can get stuck is best handled by the GM making secret notation of which spaces can potentially snag a character, and rolling a secret reflex save (DC: 8-12) for the character when they pass through those squares.
  • Natural Caltrops: In a rocky area, or a fresh riverbed, there’s always the possibility that the player may encounter stones which have not yet been eroded smooth. In some cases these stones may even be quite jagged, and act as natural caltrops (Pathfinder Core Rulebook Page 155) which “attack” at a -2 penalty. Placement of these sharp stones is best handled the same way that “foot sticking spots” are described above.
  • Changing Depth: Keep in mind that depths change in all manner of water environments. Not only might there be sudden sink holes (which can be treated as pit traps which the character must make perception checks to be aware of), but even a gradual change in depth can be tactically significant in combat.
  • Forced Drowning: Even in shallow water, drowning is a possibility. If attempting to drown a character in shallow water, the attacker must first grapple the victim and pin them. As when being “moved” into a hazardous location, pinning an opponent in these circumstances grants them a free attempt to break the grapple at a +4 bonus. Drowning is then handled as detailed in the Pathfinder Core Rulebook on page 445.

Deep Water
A deep water combat environment is defined as one which the characters cannot touch the bottom, and must swim in order to stay above the surface. Examples might include a pond, lake, or sea. It is important to note that shallow/deep water is more dependent on character height than on water depth. four or five foot deep water may still be considered shallow for a human, but for a gnome or halfling it would be considered deep.

  • Concentrating On Swimming: Characters with less than 10 ranks in swim should lose their dexterity bonus to AC. Considering that a character in any significant armor would likely be unable to swim at all, any non-aquatic participants would likely have low AC due to this.
  • Distracting Yourself: Taking a standard action, such as attacking, while in deep water should require a DC:12 swim check to stay afloat, or the character will go under water as described under the swim skill (Pathfinder Core Rulebook page 108) This assumes calm water. DCs should be adjusted for more difficult water.
  • Forced Drowning: In deep water, attempting to drown an opponent requires less effort than in shallow water. A grapple check is still required, however rather than pinning the victim, the attacker need only “move” the victim down whilst pushing themselves up. As above, this entitles the victim to a free attempt to break the grapple at a +4 bonus.
  • Slow Moving: Attack and damage rolls for characters swimming in deep water should receive a -4 penalty for light weapons, and a -8 penalty for larger weapons.
  • Waves: When the water being fought in contains waves, they can easily interrupt combat. The combatants should be hit by waves every 2d4 rounds. When hit by the wave, characters are moved 1d4 spaces in a random direction along the wave’s path. Characters are also Dazed for 1 round. A character who uses a move action can avoid becoming dazed.
  • Currents: While currents are unlikely to move two combating characters apart, the characters will none the less be moved about by them. The longer the combat continues, the further away from their starting point they will be.
  • Splashing Obstruction: If there is excessive action, the air around the characters may become filled with splashing water. In that case, both characters are granted concealment. (25% miss chance on a successful hit.)

Under Water
Under water combat is actually what the question which sparked this post was about. Underwater action is easily the most difficult kind. By necessity, being underwater for extended periods of time requires something which allows the characters to survive without oxygen; whether it’s a potion they consumed, a primitive scuba suit, or even a unique kind of starfish which filters the air out of the water. For simplicity, I will assume that whatever mechanism allows the character to be underwater is unobtrusive.

  • Deep Water: Concentrating on Swimming, Slow Moving, and Currents as described in the Deep Water section above would likely work the same way when under water.
  • Three Dimensions: While this can be tricky to use on the mat, one of the biggest advantages to underwater combat. Foes can lie in ambush 100 yards above or below the PCs without being noticed, simply because the PCs aren’t used to threats from above and below. In combat, height and depth can be more easily identified by placing pennies on the battle mat. A character 4 spaces above the ground would have 4 pennies next to their character’s miniature on the battle mat. If the ground is significantly far away, define a baseline depth, and characters can use pennies for each space above that baseline, and dimes for each space below it.
  • Loss of Breath: Whatever allows characters to breathe underwater is a target. If it’s a Ring of Water Breathing it can be sundered. If there is a spell in place, it can be dispelled. Whatever the method in play, don’t be afraid to force your players to prioritize breathing above defeating their foes.
  • Blurry Vision: Most land-lubber eyes are not designed to see underwater. Unless goggles or some other method is being used, any attack made by a character whose species evolved on land should be subject to a 25% miss chance.

While using these, always remember that the point of role playing games is to have fun. If one of these mechanics is slowing down your battle and making everybody at the table bored, either don’t use it, or find some other method to speed things along so the players can start having fun again.

Why Hex Maps Need to Come Back

Above is a selection from the wilderness map created for “The Endless Stair,” a TSR module for 1st edition Dungeons and Dragons originally published in 1987. Prior to the release of third edition D&D by Wizards of the Coast, maps such as this were commonplace. With that release, for reasons unknown to me, Wizards of the Coast apparently thought it was best to completely sever the connection between D&D and the noble hexagon. As a tabletop role player who started with D&D 3.x, I spent a number of years vaguely aware that some people liked hexes, but had to context as to how they could be beneficial.

It was Trollsmyth’s superb series of hex mapping posts which finally drove home for me the importance of hex maps. They are not intended as a replacement for maps constructed using squares, but rather, are intended to supplement those maps in situations where squares are less appropriate. Squares work best for dungeons and other structures, where walls and rooms and corridors often snap neatly into a square grid anyway. In fact, the module I mentioned above, The Endless Stair, contains a number of dungeon maps printed on a square grid.

What hex maps are intended for is the outdoors. Squares have no place measuring nature. If any of my readers are old enough to have played the original Dragon Warrior game for the NES, they know what I mean. The game was great fun, but the squared-off overworld map looked silly even in those days of primitive technology. And while the righteous hexagon may not necessarily be a more ‘natural’ shape, it certainly approximates a natural shape more efficiently than its brutish cousin the square. Through the use of its two additional sides, the hexagon is more uniform in size than the square. The the distance between the center of a hex, and the center of any adjacent hex, is equal for all six sides. Whereas the square, with its 8 adjacent spaces, allows characters to travel much greater distances when moving diagonally than when moving up, down, left, or right. The only way to compensate for this extra distance is to penalize a character somehow for moving diagonally. And while this may be a simple matter on a small scale map (each space moved diagonally is counted as 1.5 spaces.), it becomes more difficult on a larger scale.

Which brings us to the next point regarding hexes: scale. Maps of dungeons or other areas which utilize squares are generally done on a small scale. The most common measurement is that 1 square is equal to 5 square feet. It’s simple, and when a room is only thirty feet square, it’s effective. However, wilderness travel require a larger scale by definition. No one in their right mind would try to map a forest, a mountain range, or a continent, in five-by-five foot increments. To even attempt it would be ludicrous. The standard size for a single hex on a wilderness map is six miles across from flat side to flat side. While a GM can use any scale he or she pleases, the six mile scale has a good balance. It’s small enough that overland travel can be measured in a meaningful way (with most characters being able to travel between 12 and 18 miles in a day), but large enough to allow a good sized continent to fit on a piece of 8 1/2 by 11 graph paper.

The largeness of a six mile hex comes with other benefits as well. At over 30 square miles*, it’s impossible for a party to fully explore every hex. They can mark down the primary terrain, and any items which they come across, but there will always be more. This means that even a hex which has already been explored can offer new challenges for players. From wandering monsters which they didn’t encounter the last time, to dungeon entrances, or perhaps an entire community or fortress which was 2 or 3 miles away from the route the party took last time they passed through. The blog “I Waste the Buddha With My Crossbow” has a great post which gives you an idea of just how large this scale is.

For all the arguments I can make demonstrating the benefits of hex maps, there’s one which I keep returning to time and again. An argument which, in my mind, is irrefutable proof that the D&D community needs to re-embrace hex mapping:

We don’t have anything better yet!

It baffles me why Wizards of the Coast would abandon a perfectly good system without at least attempting to provide a replacement for it. But they did nothing of the sort! Wilderness travel was downplayed significantly in 3.x, and that hasn’t been remedied in Pathfinder. On the rare occasion that wilderness maps are included in adventure modules, the best they can do is indicate scale with a measuring stick. Take a look at this map from one of my favorite D&D 3.5 modules, “The Standing Stone:”

What about this map is improved by the lack of a hex overlay? Nothing! Refusing to include an overlay of mighty hexagons forces the GM to add measuring tape to the already cluttered area behind the GM screen. And while it may be argued that the map is too small in scale for six-mile hexagons to be of use, I would reply that the map is perfectly scaled for three-mile hexagons. Wizards of the Coast had better options. Options which they chose to ignore for reasons I cannot even begin to guess at.

Hex maps provide us with the metric which makes world exploration possible. Without it, completely open-ended, sandbox exploration can seem like a daunting task to players and GMs alike. I know I certainly never had the guts to provide a world exploration game to my players before I learned about Hex mapping–despite being very proud of the maps I’d created! Nor have I ever been given much choice as a traveling player. Travel is always handled by indicating where I’m going, and then fading to black as I travel there. And you know what? That’s sad.

As the old saying goes: “The journey is more important than the destination.” Isn’t that the essence of an adventure?

*Yes, I am aware of the irony of using square miles as a measurement in a post decrying the use of squares as a unit of measure. Stop mocking me!

Deadly Dungeons: Scholomance Part 1

It may be seen as a black mark in the tabletop gaming community, but I spent several years as an avid World of Warcraft player. For all its flaws, the game is damned good at being what it is. My favorite game activity was Instancing, or dungeon-delving to use the tabletop terminology. My favorite dungeon in the entire game, bar none, is Scholomance (Naxxramas being a close second). Before the numerous nerfs it has gone through over the years, it had everything I love. The grim undead motif, the unique challenges presented by each room, the numerous bosses, involving quest lines, and compelling lore all combined to make Scholo perfect for me. I’ve probably logged more hours inside Scholomance than I have in any other five instances combined.

So much do I love Scholomance, that a couple years back I sketched down the map, wrote up some quick stats for the various monsters and enemies found within its halls, and ran it as a D&D dungeon. The short session was a blast, and ever since then I’ve been determined to put more detail into the dungeon so that it can serve as the centerpiece for a truly challenging adventure. The project is a large one, though, so I’ve broken this post into 3 parts which will be put up over the next few weeks. Part 1, which you’re reading now, will include the maps, and room descriptions. Part 2 will cover monsters, enemies, bosses, and treasure found withing Scholomance. Part 3 will cover role playing details, as well as several of the quests which can be done in Scholomance.

As a disclaimer before I move on to the content of the post, not everything is precisely as it can be found in World of Warcraft. Scholo has changed a lot over the years, and here I’ve combined my favorite elements from all of Scholo’s long history. Additionally, since [Tape of Measuring] never drops for me, some of the rooms may be scaled incorrectly. I’m confident, however, that this does not adversely affect dungeon design whatsoever. Finally, I have not included Caer Darrow island, or the mansion which leads into scholomance. If I do include them, they will likely be altered to fit into my game world, and be found in part 3.

Without further ado:

Scholomance B1-1

B1-1 A: The descending stairs are made of dark stone, lit only by torchlight. Dusty skulls and rib cages are strewn sparsely on the landing. Rats and other vermin occasionally scuttle in and out of view.

B1-1 B: The stone stairway gives way to a wooden platform edged by deteriorating railings. The room extends ten feet beyond the platform, and the walls are densely packed with burial drawers, many of which appear to have been forced open. Elaborate candelabras, and skull-laden chandeliers light the room, and an iron gate across from the entrance leads into the next. Four armored skeletons guard the way forward.

GM’S Note: If the players look over the edge of the railing, they will be looking into room B2-1 E

B1-1 C: This is a balcony looking over a large room below. (GM’s Note: Room B2-1 A) A stairway on either side of the balcony leads down into the room below.

Scholomance B2-1

B2-1 A:Five large chandeliers and numerous candles light this massive library. Book shelves of varying sizes are spaced along lower walls, while stone shelves containing mummified remains dominate any wall space too high to be reached. Under the stairs in the south of the room is an alcove with a balcony looking over another room below. (GM’s Note: Room B2-1 E) Necromancers and undead gather around tables, or in the large open space in the center of the room, discussing hells-knows what. A succubus wanders amongst them, as if overseeing their conversations.

B2-1 B: More bookshelves boarder his low-ceilinged room. Six small pits in the stone floor are filled with the remains of numerous dead creatures. Around the pits stand small groups of necromancers–a teacher and one or two students. Two armored skeletons and a drider patrol the room.

B2-1 C: Stairs lead down to a small wooden platform which opens onto a small balcony extending from the cliff face. The balcony overlooks the lake below. A large iron bowl rests on the balcony’s edge, without any obvious purpose.

GM’S Note: Pouring the blood of an innocent into this bowl summons Kirtonos the Herald, a powerful vampire.

B2-1 D: The walls of this massive room are covered in stone shelves, many of which still contain mumified remains. Others have been converted into storage for books, potions, scrolls, or candles. Various bookshelves have also been set up around the room. On the north side of the room, two alcoves end in balconies which look over another room. (GM’s Note: Room B2-1 E) Here, again, groups of young necromancers converse with each other, and with their undead tutors. A skeleton the size of a hill giant patrols this room, along with three skeletons in more ornate armor than those in previous rooms, and a drider.

GM’s Note: The southern door is covered behind a tapestry. When the players walk past it, a number of rats should scamper out from behind the tapestry. Perception DC 15 to notice that the rats seem to come from nowhere.

B2-1 E: This room is a teeming pit of mindless undead. Simple skeletons, zombies, and ghouls jostle each other as they aimlessly wander within the confines of this room. A drider walks amongst them, acting as shepherd to the horde. A heavy portcullis blocks access to a chest in a small alcove on the east side of this room. The door on the east side is thick, and has an ornate lock on it.

GM’s Note: Rattlegore has the key to the heavy door. Lockpicking DC is 35. The portcullis can be raised by finding the secret torch lever in room B3-2. Lifting it is nearly impossible, requiring a strength check of 32.

Scholomance B2-2

B2-2 F: The floor in this large, open room is uneven, sloping gradually downwards towards the east. Like every room, the floor is covered with dusty bones and broken coffins. Dozens of student necromancers stand or sit around the room, listening to an elaborately robed skeleton give a lecture on the effects of negative energy on dragons. The skeleton stands on a raised platform filled with bookshelves, and tables covered in scrolls and urns. In the shadowy corner of the platform stands an armored zombie wielding a large sword.

B2-2 G: Bubbling cauldrons and tables filled with steaming beakers fill this room. There are fewer students in this alchemical laboratory than there are in other rooms–only three groups, each guided by a professor. Four large glass cylinders filled with green liquid hold the floating bodies of various undead creatures. Tables with straps obviously intended for humanoid creatures are positioned around the room, though none of them are presently occupied. At the far end of the chamber, surrounded by hundreds of candles, a lich in ornate robes paces.

B2-2 H: This room is filled with newly hatched dragons, each fluttering unstably on untested wings. All of the have a pallor which leads you to believe they must be quite ill, but this does not appear to concern the three handlers which patrol the room. Unlike most rooms and corridors within this crypt, no bookshelves line the walls. However, every 5 feet there is a recess in the wall, with a hole dropping into the room below.

Scholomance B3-1 & 2

B3-1: Heaping piles of bones fill this dirt-floored room. Most of the piles are situated under the holes to the room above. In the center of the room is the largest pile, reaching almost to the ceiling. Bone constructs with crude blades instead of forearms mill about the room. Atop the central bone heap stands the largest of the constructs, twice the size of the others, mindlessly overseeing the wanderings of his subjects.

B3-2: This room is devoted to shelves for the dead. There are even three rows of open shelves which separate the room into four “aisles.” Unintelligent zombies and skeletons wander between these aisles in groups. A small alcove on the far side of the room is filled with hundreds of candles. Within, a single spectral woman in noblewoman’s robes reads from a book.

GM’s Note: One of the torches in this room, near the alcove, is a lever. Characters with 5 ranks in Knowledge(Architecture) are entitled to a Perception check DC: 20 to notice that the sconce for the torch seems to hang oddly on the wall. Pulling it opens the portcullis in room B2-1 E. If a character reads the book which the spectral woman is reading, they will find plans for a bag of devouring.

Scholomance B3-3 & B4-1

B3-3 A: You emerge onto a walkway surrounding the edge of a two-level room. Like many rooms before it, the walls are covered with open shelves displaying mummified remains, while the walls below the walkway are covered in burial drawers. Six rooms can be accessed from this one, with each doorway marked by a raised portcullis.

B3-3 B: The entrance of this room is 10ft above the rest of it. Twin sets of stairs allow access to the pit below. Dozens of zombies fumble and bump into one another there. At the far end of the room, standing stock still in a small nook, is one zombie which seems somewhat amused by the poor motor skills of his brethren.

B3-3 C: The entrance of this room is 10ft above the rest of it. Twin sets of stairs allow access to the pit below. Bloody meat hooks hang from the ceiling, and stone tables covered in rotting carcases give off a horrible stench. Half a dozen ghouls pace across the blood stained floor. Across the room, with his back to the entrance, stands a man garbed in scarlet skillfully hacking a corpse to pieces with his meat cleaver.

B3-3 D:The entrance of this room is 10ft above the rest of it. Twin sets of stairs allow access to the pit below. Eerie purple flames in braziers around the room cast unsettling shadows. Three groups of necromatic pupils are gathered here, guided in their studies by a strikingly beautiful elven woman.

B4-1 A: (See description for B3-3 A)

B4-1 B: Stairs at the entrance of this room descend into water which is about a foot deep. Several sarcophagi rise above the water, and four skeletons wielding staffs and wearing robes pace amongst them. Across from the entrance, another set of stairs rises into a small alcove, where a spectral woman stands, as though waiting.

B4-1 C: A large sarcophagus dominates this room, flanked by two armored skeletons. On either side of the sarcophagus are stairs which lead down into water which is about a foot deep. Numerous smaller sarcophagi rise above the water here. Amongst them stands a man with pale skin and sunken eyes wearing full plate armor, and wielding a massive sword which glows blue. He is flanked by two armored skeletons.

B4-1 D: Five sinister looking skeletons, each with bones of an unusual hue, paces about this room. Behind them stands a hunched corpse golem, with skin as pale as snow, and powerful arms hanging at its sides like battering rams. Three 10x10ft sections of this room are lower than the rest of it, and covered under about a foot of water. A handful of Sarcophagi dot these low areas.

And there are the maps & room descriptions for Scholomance. I’ll be working on parts II and III, and you can expect to see them in the coming weeks. If my spelling or grammar errors are particularly egregious today, I apologize. Preparing this post has been more draining than I might have expected.

Alternative Fantasy Race Relations

In 1948 America was at the pinnacle of its prosperity. It was nation of wealth and status in the world community. Russia was the United States’ great rival, an opposing superpower which seemed to us completely indomitable. The nation of Japan had lost a bitter war with us only a few years prior, and most Americans still held tight to their anger towards the Japanese people for the atrocities of that war. While China was a backwards, technologically inept nation of farmers, who were strong allies of the United States during World War II.

That was 63 years ago. Today, in 2011, the world looks a much different place. Russia’s economic collapse and subsequent failure to recover has knocked it off the radar of most American citizens. Japan, once the bitter rival of the U.S., is now one of its closest allies. China–no longer a close friend of the U.S.–has risen to become one of the most economically and technologically successful nations in the world. And America, while still wealthy and powerful, has been steadily on the decline in the decades since that pinnacle of prosperity mentioned above. It would seem that the old adage rings true: things change.

So why in nine hells do fantasy races always hold the same position, and have the same relationship, in every single universe?

This has bothered me for a long time. Dwarves always hate elves just a little bit, and elves always reciprocate. This hatred is never enough to put them at each others throats, though, and it pretty much peaks at rude comments. Orcs, goblins, gnolls, kobolds, and generally anything which has a skin color no real-life human can have, are always evil monsters. It generally seems that these creatures are granted intelligence by game designers for the sole purpose of making them more challenging foes. Halflings and Gnomes are probably the most diverse, but as a rule neither race is anything but amicable. There’s never a city with sings which read “you must be this tall to enter.”

And humans. Humans are the worst offenders of all. Nearly without exception, humans are “more diverse than other races.” They are almost always a young race, with lifespans equivalent to modern real-life humans. Most settings take special note of how prolific humans are, and that despite their youth compared to other species, their diversity has allowed them to flourish and become nearly omnipresent compared to the other species.

I understand why things are done this way. A dwarf isn’t a dwarf if he doesn’t like hammers, beards, and ale. If somebody made all the dwarves in their world sober, clean shaven accountants, that would be a crime on par with that of the Twilight books. It also helps for players to enter a game already knowing who the “good guys” and the “bad guys” are. Since they’re supposed to be characters in this world, they should know those things. And if the player already knows what their character should know, it helps speed things along. Besides, things can become difficult if two player races are so opposed to one another that they would refuse to work together.

And in all fairness, it has become somewhat popular for these concepts to be toyed with in recent years. Orcs, in particular, now seem to appear as a goodly race more often than they appear as a monster. But that having been said, there’s a certain appeal to a gritty and unpleasant setting where people don’t get along very well. I enjoy mixing the traditional concepts up, and letting my players run wild in a world more unusual than a typical fantasy setting.

Below is some information on a number of fantasy races. This information is for use in a future campaign world of mine which I may or may not ever finish. Any race which isn’t mentioned is one I haven’t figured out what to do with yet.

Humans

Average Lifespan: 45 years

The great human empires have come and gone in the roughly ten thousand years since the race was born. All that remains of them are ruined castles scattered across the land. What humans remain are a lost race. They have fallen so far from the heights of their glory that few humans even know their peoples had any glory to begin with. The few stories which still speak of their ancient empires are fractured and mythological in nature.

Now, most humans live in small tribal villages, or in roaming bands of nomadic barbarians. Humans will occasionally settle in the ruins of some crumbling castle, never realizing their ancestors built it. As a species, they are of little importance. Most human tribes are too concerned with finding food or waging territorial wars with other humans to become involved in more lofty pursuits.

The one thing which sets humans apart is that nearly all of them are born with the innate talent for sorcery. Though not all choose to pursue this path, fully half of humans do. And even those who do not are normally able to cast one or two simple spells.

Somewhat ironically, it is this sorcery which caused the downfall of humanity in the first place. Some four hundred years past, when human power was at its height, and human wars raged across the land, an evil king hatched a plan to put an end to his rivals. Using a ritual of unspeakable evil, this king slaughtered half of his subjects, granting the rest of his people sorcerer abilities, with the unintended side effect of reducing their intelligence.

The evil king’s genocidal rampage was successful none the less. But within a generation, the reduced intelligence of humanity had caused his government to collapse. For several generations, humans became progressively stupider, and more bestial. Since then, however, the race has recuperated somewhat. Humans are still one of the less intelligent races, but they are intellectually capable for the most part.

Babyls are an offshoot of humanity which did not cease their generational decline. Babyls appear to be human, but their intelligence has reduced them to animals without the ability to understand language. Some elven societies keep Babyls as pets.

Dwarves

Average Lifespan: 2,000 years.

Dwarves are an extremely prolific race, living not only in mountains, but also in underground complexes beneath plains, and even some forests. As a people, they are wary of magic, but technologically advanced, having developed both gunpowder and steam propulsion. While most dwarves still prefer a heavy axe or hammer in combat, rifles are common as a first-strike weapon. And many dwarven communities are now linked together by an advanced network of underground trains.

Socially, Dwarves are strictly hierarchical. Children obey their parents, wives obey their husbands, men obey the clan elders, and clan elders obey the king, and even kings obey The Emperor. Despite the many lands which dwarves inhabit, spread across many continents, there is only one single dwarven nation. Each dwarf is part of the regimented machine of dwarven society, and proud to play whatever role they play.

Dwarves also have a long standing and bitter blood feud with elves. The two races are constantly at war with one another. While land is often lost or gained, neither side has yet emerged as dominant in hundreds of millennia of conflict. Dwarves have access to much greater levels of organization and support, whilst elven magical abilities mean every elven life is normally paid for with dozens of dwarven lives.

Elves

Average Lifespan: 10,000 years.

Elves are numerous. Not quite as prolific as dwarves, but nearly so. They make their homes primarily in woodland areas, but sometimes construct their cities on plains, in swamps, or anywhere else, so long as it isn’t a mountain. Elves are too individualistic for centralized governments. Each elven city is a state unto itself. The laws and customs vary from city-state to city-state, sometimes wildly. Almost universally, though, these city states are governed by a mageocracy.

The elven predilection for magic permeates their entire society. Nearly without exception, every elf is a wizard. Some of these wizards govern, others are architects or military tacticians, but each is, above all, a wizard. The rare elf who is not a wizard will, at best, be treated as little better than a slave. At worst he or she could be cast out into a world which can be harsh towards the haughty and unpleasant elven race. These cast outs normally try to make their lives within orc society, but a few attempt to integrate with humans.

Halflings

Average Lifespan: 50 years

Halflings are a slave race. They have no real culture or identity left to them save that of countless generations of servitude. Halfling slaves are what make elven society work, with each elf owning perhaps 2 or 3 halflings. Orcs keep halflings as slaves as well, though not in such great numbers. There is likely to be one halfling slave for every ten orcs in a community. The orcs consider them very useful for sea travel, since halflings don’t take up much room, or eat many rations.

Orcs

Average Lifespan: 80 years

If you need to travel on water, talk to an orc. This coast-dwelling species is master of the open sea. On a whole, they’ve managed to remain neutral in the conflicts between other races. Some individual orcish towns have thrown in their lot with either elves or dwarves simply as a matter of necessity.

Colorful Characters 4: Baron Ika of the Treebreaker Tribe

Ika of the Treebreaker tribe was born twenty six years ago. Like all goblin children, Ika was raised in an environment where her ability to bite and claw the other children was the only thing which ensured her next meal. Early childhood served to hone a goblin’s devious instincts, and had the added benefit of making Ika tough-as-nails. By the time she was a year old, she already had a reputation among the other children for being absolutely fearless.

When Ika was four, she and some other children were hunting snails in a small copse of trees not far from the village. Quickly bored by their task, the other children decided to test Ika’s fearlessness. They set fire to a bush, and told Ika that if she ran, she was a coward. They then scuttled off to wait just outside the treeline, and come up with jeers and taunts to throw at Ika when she eventually came out.

The fire spread from tree to tree, and the goblin children continued to wait. The fire eventually drew other goblins as well, and the children told them about Ika’s test. Not being a particularly nurturing race, most of the adults started trying to come up with jeers of their own. But Ika never emerged. As the fire smoldered, the goblins returned to their village, believing the young fool to have died.

Ika had, in fact, remained in the flaming death trap much longer than she should have been able to survive. But, as the fire became omnipresent around her, Ika’s need for self preservation overrode her need to prove she was tougher than any of the other goblin. Badly burned, and coughing violently from smoke inhalation, she stumbled out of the cluster of trees on the opposite side from the one the other goblins were waiting at. And it was there that the hunting party of Baron Greegorg found her.

Greegorg of Stok was a human lord who could best be described as arrogant, amoral, and cheap. So when he found a coughing young goblin child separated from the rest of her tribe, he saw it as a golden opportunity to improve his small castle’s plumbing. So Ika, biting and scratching the whole time, was thrown in chains and taken to Castle Stok where she was forced to clean the stables, chamberpots, and even the dreaded brown chute, for six years. In that time she had ample opportunity to observe the baron, and the goings on of human lords.

In the seventh year of Ika’s slavery, a human she had not seen before approached her while she was dumping shit from her small cart just outside the castle walls. He asked her if she would like to be free, which she said she would. He then asked her if she was willing to kill, and she answered that she was eager to. The man went on to explain that he was an assassin, and that he had been hired by a rival to kill baron Greegorg. But the deed had to be done that very night, and he had no means of entering the castle.

Ika smiled a devilish smile, and told the assassin about the brown chute. A long shaft, angled at 45 degrees, which ended five feet off the ground on the castle wall, and began in the Baron’s own bedchamber. An easy entrance for an assassin with the fortitude to brave the slime and the stench. The man grimaced and told her he would come for her if he was successful. Seven hours later, the assassin returned, smelling horribly, and freed her.

Able to determine her own destiny for the first time in over half her lifetime, Ika didn’t quite know what to do or where to go. The assassin, whose name she learned was Blavid, offered to allow her to travel with him. And so, for some years, Ika aided him in his work as he traveled about the kingdom. She was not quite as subtle or skilled as the assassin, but her strength in combat proved to be a significant asset to the human.

During the fifth year of her travels with Blavid, he and Ika were helping a merchant dispose of some competition when she recognized the village they were in. It was one which her clan had raided shortly before she had been enslaved. After the mark had been slain, Ika bid farewell to Blavid so she could return to goblin kind. He, having grown fond of the little green woman, told her to look him up if she ever needed anyone killed.

It took nearly a fortnight of traveling and searching, but Ika found the village she had been taken from as a gobling. Reintegrating with her tribe was not easy, though. Her fellow Treebreakers were suspicious of her. So many goblin children die as a matter of course that few even remembered her. Those who did remember her story were unsure if the goblin standing before them was indeed Ika of the Treebreaker, or just a tribeless goblin looking to infiltrate their village.

Shunned by her people, Ika determined to prove herself the only way a goblin can: through violence. She recalled a tale from her childhood of a blade of legendary strength, used by Treebreaker chieftains in generations past. According to the tale, it rested in a dangerous crypt deep in the forest of Umulgar which bordered the Treebreaker village.

Ika offered a gold to one of the village elders to tell her where the crypt could be found. With that information in hand, she set off to find the sword. She braved the many wolves and the giant spiders of the forest to reach the entrance to the crypt. Within she faced further danger from deadly traps, and undead goblins. Through all these, Ika survived. And when she pulled the sword called Gorgok’s Tongue from the pedestal on which it rested, she felt its power sear her skin and rattle her bones. When she returned to the surface, she found that she was a changed goblin. Her contact with the sword had awakened a latent sorcererous power within her.

Armed with her newfound talent and her mighty blade, Ika returned to the Treebreaker village. She arrived just in time for a post-raid feast. The goblins were dancing and eating and drinking; all of which Ika interrupted by cutting off the chief’s head. And, as the head rolled across the ground with half a chicken head still hanging from its jaws, Ika shouted, “Ika is leader now! Ika is baron of Treabreakers!”

The tribe did not attempt to block her ascent, and have prospered in the many years which she has led them.

Personality

Baron Ika is more worldly than most goblins, and has a great deal more pride. Her self-bestowed title of Baron is a good indication of how she sees herself, and how she thinks others should see her. She is a goblin to be feared, and she knows it.

Tactics

Baron Ika always tries to cast Mage Armor on herself before combat, raising her AC to 24 for an hour. If she’s unable to do so before combat, she will use her first action during combat to do so.

Ika keeps her spells in reserve, and attempts to attack the weakest character whenever possible. Her preference is to quickly kill this character, then use her sword’s ability to raise them as a skeleton to assist her. If she is accompanied by other goblins, which she most often should be, she directs them to attack more powerful party members to keep them distracted.

If Ika is reduced below 75% health, she will begin to cast Magic Missile when it is convenient. She will use one of her potions at 50% health, but save the rest in case she needs to flee. If reduced below 25% health, she will use a withdraw action to attempt to escape and hide from her attackers. If they are too persistent in attempting to find her, she will prepare an ambush.

Thoughts On Use

Baron Ika works well as a boss in a first or second level adventure. If you were so inclined, however, she could be the sidekick or lieutenant of a boss in a level 3-5 adventure.

Baron Ika of the Treebreaker Tribe (CR 3)

XP: 800
Female Goblin 3 (Fighter 2/Sorcerer 1)
NE Small humanoid
Init +7; Senses Perception +1, Darkvision 60ft

Defenses

AC 20, Flat Footed 16, Touch 15 [10 + Armor(4) + Dex (3) + Amulet(1) + Size(1) + Dodge(1)]
hp 29 (2d10 + 1d6 + 6)
Fort +5 Ref +3 Will + 1 (+1 vs. fear)

Offense

Speed 30ft
Melee Gorgok’s Tongue + 7 (1d10 + 5/19-20 x2)
Ranged Dagger + 5 (1d3/x2)
Sorcerer Spells (CL 1st; Concentration +3 (+7 when casting defensively); Spell Failure 20%)
1st (4/day)–Mage Armor, Magic Missile (two missiles)
0 (at will)– Bleed, Mage Hand, Message, Detect Magic
Bloodline Elemental (Fire)
Bloodline Powers
Elemental Ray (5/day)–Ranged touch attack, 30ft, 1d6 fire damage.

Stats

Str 15 (+2) Dex 17 (+3) Con 15 (+2) Int 12 (+1) Wis 9 (-1) Cha 14 (+2)
Base Atk +2; CMB +3; CMD 16
Feats Improved Initiative, Dodge, Weapon Focus (Greatsword), Combat Casting
Skills Intimidate(+7), Perception (+1), Ride (+10), Spellcraft(+5), Stealth (+9), Survival (+4)
Languages Goblin, Common
Gear Gorgok’s Tongue, Chain Shirt, Amulet of Natural Armor +1, 10 daggers, 3 potions of cure light wounds, 12 gold pieces.

Weapon: Gorgok’s Tongue

Aura Faint Necromancy[Evil]; CL 4th
The hilt of this goblin-sized greatsword is engraved to look like a goblin’s head, with the ears forming the cross guard, and the hair wrapped around the grip. The goblin’s mouth is open, and the waving blade extends from it like a tongue. This is a +2 Greatsword. Once per day, a creature killed by Gorgok’s Tongue will rise as a skeleton under the wielder’s command as the Animate Deadspell.

It is very unusual for a blade of this quality to bear the markings of goblinkind. And, in fact, it was not crafted by goblins. A century ago, an evil halfling wizard conquered several tribes of goblins and forced them to raid nearby towns. He had this blade crafted as a gift for his most effective goblin chief, Gorgok of the Treebreaker tribe.