Deadly Dungeons 3: Blastdoor Room

For a long while I’ve wanted to use Papers & Pencils as a means to share dungeon stuff, but I’ve never quite been able to figure out how I wanted to do it. The first Deadly Dungeons post was my attempt to convert the World of Warcraft dungeon Scholomance into a tabletop dungeon. Aside from the fact that I never finished the project due to the overwhelming amount of work I created for myself, I now view even the results I did produce to be undesirable. My second, much more recent attempt to make the Deadly Dungeons series work was just last month, when I posted the GM notes for The Ironbone Tower. Ultimately I don’t think that was a very good post either.

Unsure of how to post this kind of content in a useful way, I set the Deadly Dungeons series aside again until I could figure something better out. Then, while reviewing my archives to find things I could build upon, I stumbled upon to some unexpected inspiration while reviewing one of my least favorite posts ever. Instead of trying to post entire dungeons, like a moron, why wasn’t I simply posting modular dungeon rooms like a smart person would?

So that’s what I’m doing now. Deadly Dungeons will be joining Colorful Characters, Magical Marvels, Merciless Monsters, and Lively Locals as one of the regular Friday posts. I hope you enjoy!

The Blastdoor Room is a circular stone room, which the players enter via an archway. A multitude of doors are spaced around the rooms outside edge. Each door is of simple wooden construction, but is sturdy, mounted on excellent hinges, and banded with iron. The stone floor of the room slopes slightly towards the room’s center, where an 18″ diameter hole is placed. It is dark within, but if the players bring a light source to bear, they will discover that the interior of the hole is very smooth, and less than 2ft down it turns off to the side. They are unable to see further.

Upon closer inspection, the players may notice that between the doors, there are areas of the wall which seem much more dilapidated than the rest of the room. They are cracked and dented, with bits of gravel on the floor beneath them. These damaged areas of wall are only about 3ft square, while the walls around them appears to be in much better condition.

Behind every door in the room is a cannon, which is loaded and prepared by a sophisticated mechanism behind the walls. The doors each hold down a spring mechanism mounted on the door’s frame. A moment after a door is opened–even if it is only opened an inch–the cannon will fire. The cannonball will travel along the dotted lines indicated, and smash into the wall directly opposite the door. The walls are extremely sturdy and will not break, but observant players will notice that each of the damaged sections of wall mentioned above has a corresponding door on the opposite side of the room. After striking the wall, and perhaps bouncing on the floor a bit, the ball will gradually roll along the slope of the floor, and fall into the hole at the center of the room, where it will be returned to the loading mechanism behind the walls.

Characters standing in the path of the cannonball will take an amount of damage appropriate to the game being played. (OD&D: 2d6, Pathfinder: 6d6). If the door was not fully opened, then it may be destroyed by the cannon’s fire. If this is the case, characters within 5ft of the door are subject to damage from the wooden shrapnel. (OD&D Save V. Breath, 1d6 damage; Pathfinder Reflex save DC: 18, 2d6 damage). Note that the cannon will not fire continuously if the door is destroyed. The spring switch must be depressed between the cannon’s firings.

If the characters take the time to match sections of damaged wall to doors, then they will discover that every single area of damaged wall is directly opposite from a door. However, there is one door which is not opposite from a section of damaged wall. This section of wall is constructed of the same materials as the rest of the room, but lacks the special reinforcement that the other walls have. If the door opposite this section of wall is opened, then the cannonball will blast through the wall, revealing a secret hallway.

Depending on the dungeon, there may or may not be creatures who will replace broken doors and broken walls. Players who enter the secret hallway may return to find their way back has been bricked up!

Picture Thursday 8: "Cultural Misunderstandings 2" by 'hibbary

The very talented ‘hibbary of DeviantArt graciously allowed me to share this short comic with you all. She has some fantastic artwork available for viewing, and I strongly encourage anyone who enjoys fantasy art to check out her gallery. Much of what she has posted there is actually much more technically impressive than this. Colors, shading, all of that jazz. But I thought this comic (one of several exploring the relationship between LotR’s Gimli and Legolas) was a particularly good fit for Picture Thursday, because it eloquently demonstrates a point which I myself have tried to express before. Albeit with a less elegant approach.

Namely, that every fantasy race is going to have a unique and profoundly different worldview from that of humans.

‘hibbary makes the same point earlier in Cultural Misunderstandings 1, but I preferred this piece. Maybe it’s because the joke is better executed.

Or…ya know. Maybe it’s something else.

Page by Page: Gary Gygax's DMG Part 10

This is the tenth installment of my continuing series on the 1979 Dungeon Master’s Guide, written by Gary Gygax. This post begins with the section “Economics” on page 90, and continues through “Peasants, Serfs, and Slaves” on page 94. My purpose is not to review the DMG, but to go through it as a modern gamer, learning about the roots of Dungeons and Dragons, and making note when I see something surprising or interesting, or something which could be adapted for a modern game.

You can read all posts in this series under the Gary Gygax’s DMG tag.

Economics: According to this section, the prices of items used in the game reflect an economy which has been inflated by the presence of gold-carting adventurers. Reading this was elucidating for me, as I was always curious why a ten foot stick of wood cost a whopping 1 gold piece. (I still think that’s a little extreme)! Being aware of this underlying rationale behind the pricing methodology raises interesting possibilities in my mind of a campaign where prices start out at the much more reasonable ‘handfull of coppers,’ and only gradually do prices begin to rise as the players find greater and greater treasures, inflating whatever local economy they’re operating in.

Even if I never act on that idea (it would probably be a great deal of work for relatively little reward), it’s nice to gain a fuller understanding of why things are the way they are. This is the kind of flavor I wish was more present in Pathfinder.

Duties, Excises, Fees, Tariffs, Taxes, Tithes, and Tolls: Taxes in the game are an idea which have always intrigued me, but I’ve never seriously considered including them. Despite recognizing their worth as a drain on player resources and an impetus to adventure, I’ve never personally found that either of those things is really needed in my games. So I’ve seen no reason to add them. And with the multitude of taxes Gygax describes in this section, I think my players might revolt if I implemented them all. Though I don’t think Gygax actually intends for all to be used at once.

None the less, this subsection makes a compelling case. There are a lot of interesting ways the government might extract money from the player, which might encourage players to be a little more hungry for treasure just so they can maintain a posh style of living. Something as simple as a toll for entering a city, or a magistrate appearing and demanding back taxes on the player’s home, could make for an interesting game obstacle.

Monster Populations and Placement: Like many recent sections, I wish something like this were included in the D&D 3.5 DMG. Having read something like this, I think I would have been better prepared for running a world. As it stands, it took me some time before I determined that random charts of monsters ought to be populated with monsters relevant to an area, rather than forcing planned encounters or using completely random charts. In the past I’ve often made the mistake of assuming a monster population will always be refilled, rather than letting players gradually alter the environment around them by clearing monsters.

I also find it an interesting point of view that the players would see clearing an area of dangers to be a bad thing, because their opportunities for treasure are now lessened. “The frontier moves, and bold adventurers must move with it,” he writes.

Placement of Monetary Treasure: More solid advice on GMing which I wish I had encountered earlier in my GMing career. I particularly like the way Gary explains that part of the challenge of finding treasure is recognizing it when you see it. Anybody can grab a pile of coins or jewels or finely crafted jewelry, and haul it to the surface seeking a reward. But what of something less obvious? Fine clothes, a well crafted chair, or the history of a forgotten royal lineage. Taken together, these parts of the treasure horde may be worth even more than the gold and jewels.

Placement of Magic Items: While it is, ultimately, relevant to the placement of magic items, this section is mostly just a tirade about the dangers of adding too many magic items to a game. There’s some repetition of what was written in the section on placement of treasure as well. Really this section just comes off as unnecessary, or at least its placement is strange. Perhaps a section could have been added a page or so back titled “Balancing Treasure” which covered the issues of over and under rewarding your players, allowing this section to offer advice more specific to magic items.

Territory Development by Player Characters, AND Peasants, Serfs, and Slaves: Many years ago, when I was a wee game master looking for a D&D 3.5 group, I was very interested in the concept of strongholds. I thought this idea was fascinating, but it wasn’t really covered all that much in the D&D 3.5 core rulebooks. Looking for more information, I purchased the D&D 3.0 Stronghold Builder’s Guide. Upon reading it, however, I found myself disappointed. I couldn’t put my finger on why, because the book had a ton of information on building strongholds. Materials costs, and room types which could be purchased, and a litany of special options players could invest in while planning their headquarters. But none the less, I found the product lacking.

I haven’t thought about Strongholds much in the last few years. I still think they’re a wicked awesome thing to spend money on, but since I largely play low level campaigns, players have never really had the money necessary to build one. Now though, reading this section of the DMG, I recognize what the Stronghold Builder’s Guide was missing: challenge. The entire guide is all about how many options players have, and all the marvelous things they can do. But since there’s no obstacles in the way of accomplishing those goals (save the gold piece value for materials and labor) the entire creation feels ultimately meaningless.

It’s alot like another game I played as a youth: “Age of Empires 2: The Age of Kings.” It was a real time strategy game where the player was tasked with controlling villagers to expand and advance their medieval fiefdom, while using soldiers to defend it, or to assault the fiefdoms of others. The game provided me with many happy hours, but I always found it frustrating that I never had the time or the resources to construct a truly marvelous city, with double-deep walls, dozens of watch towers, etc. Occasionally, I would enter the game’s map editing mode and work on building my perfect city. Only to quickly grow bored of the task, and go back to playing the game. I didn’t realize it at the time, but the source of my boredom was that the task had no challenge, nor any meaningful reward. And thus all I was doing was creating a make-believe city with no purpose in mind.

These two subsections have given me an important insight into this area of the game.

Favorite Quotes from this Section

“DUTIES, EXCISES, FEES, TARIFFS, TAXES, TITHES, AND TOLLS
What society can exist without revenues? What better means of assuring revenues than taxation, and all of the names used in the title of this section are synonymous with taxes–but if it is called something different perhaps the populace won’t take too much umbrage at having to pay and pay and pay…” -Gygax, DMG, Page 90
“But hold! This is not a signal to begin throwing heaps of treasure at players as if you were some mad Midas hating what he created by his touch.” -Gygax, DMG, Page 92

D&D Christmas Carols: Dark Lord Wenceslaus

This requires some explanation.

Much as I’d love to devote all of my attention to creative endeavors, I, like most other college dropouts turned artist, have a day job. Not the worst one in the world, but one that I find to be largely menial and uninteresting. Part of this job involves spending a lot of time in a warehouse, alone. I don’t mind the solitude–and in fact I quite like it. It allows me time to think which I might not otherwise find on a busy day. Many of the posts here on Papers and Pencils were conceived while talking to myself as I herd boxes.

Earlier this month, as I often do, I was alternating between humming and singing. This particular day, I was humming my favorite Christmas song: Good King Wenceslaus. It’s a great song which a lot of people, surprisingly, have never heard. Unfortunately, I only knew the first verse of the song, and I wasn’t even sure I had all the words to that right. So at my first opportunity, I printed a copy of the lyrics off the Internet, and began to teach myself the song.

Since committing the entire song to memory, I’ve sung it a lot. A lot. I’ve been telling people that my girlfriend is visiting her parents for Christmas right now, but in truth she said she needed to get away from my constant recitation of that damned song. And as with anything, if you repeat it enough, it starts to sound weird. About a week ago, the way I sang the first line; “Good king Wenceslaus looked down,” placed an unusual amount of emphasis on the “Good.” Doing so made it sound as though this was the good King Wenceslaus. As opposed to the not good one.

The idea tickled my fancy. On the spot I began to compose “Bad King Wenceslaus.”

You may wish to turn back now.

I’m going to warn you: a girl I liked once told me I had a nice singing voice. And despite the fact that no one who wasn’t trying to get into my pants has ever agreed with her, I still have a completely unjustified confidence in my singing ability. Flee while you can.

Checking for Traps is Bullshit

Earlier this evening, I was GMing a game of my D&D&LB campaign. The game consisted of the players trying to escape from a tower where they had been imprisoned. This was the third session of them working to escape this tower, and I’ve been happy with their performance. They’ve had a few slipups and bad judgement calls, have lost all of their hirelings and a PC, but have nevertheless held it together and survived with barely any time to rest or recover their health or spells. I’ve been hard on them, and they’ve succeeded despite that.

Halfway through this session, they entered a room with three chests in it. Eager to be on their way, but unable to pass up this tantalizing prize, they decided to loot the chests. One of the players stood guard while the magic user tested the lid of each chest with a sword. All were locked. The MU (our newest player), then asked if he could test for traps with the sword. I replied that he could poke around, but that many lock traps were activated by the tumblers within the lock, so the sword would be too big to test for those. With no other recourse, the rogue stepped up. She checked for traps, and I rolled to see if she found any, because I don’t like the players to know if they rolled high or low for this kind of thing. She rolled very low, and in turn, I told her that there were no traps she could detect. She then told me that she was putting on a pair of leather gloves, and would then like to pick the lock.

At this point it fell to me to inform her that a poison needle shot out of the locking mechanism, and injected her with a 4d6 Intelligence draining poison. Since the party was trapped in this tower, with dozens of bandits between them and a half-day’s march into town, it was time for her to make a save versus poison, or face nearly certain death.

But I couldn’t do that to her.

One of the most important philosophies I’ve taken from my reading in the OSR, is that players should be able to avoid death through intelligent play. That saving throws should only be called for if the player has made a mistake. But as far as I can see, this player didn’t make any mistakes. She did everything right, tested everything thoroughly, even put on an ineffectual pair of gloves for extra protection, and now I was supposed to kill her for it. Had I gone through with it, I think that player would have been fully justified in being angry. I think she would have been right to believe that her choices had not meaningfully affected whether her character lived or died, which is the grossest violation of player agency in my view.

It could be argued, of course, that before opening any chests, an intelligent player would have antitoxins on hand. An even more intelligent player would make sure someone else was always the one to open chests. The most intelligent player is the one who never leaves the starting town, and becomes rich through economic prowess. If the game is about adventure, it seems counter productive to create an environment where players can never feel safe opening the next door, or looting the next chest.

I was silent for a good 30 seconds while I pondered this, and my players stared at me with trepidation. Finally I said “Here’s the deal, guys. There is a needle trap on this lock. You rolled too low to find it. The poison on it would almost certainly kill you. But you guys did everything you could to be careful, so I’m not going to do that to you. Instead, for the rest of this session, if the rogue checks for traps, I’ll just tell you if there are traps or not. By next session I’ll figure out a more permanent trap-checking mechanic for us to use.”

And that’s where I’m at right now. I’ve decided I don’t like rolling for trap checks, but can’t figure out how better to approach the task. Any thoughts?

Also, this is relevant.

Pathfinder Class Analysis 1: Barbarian

Core Concept: While they’re not a class I’ve personally ever wanted to play, I think barbarians have a legitimate niche within fantasy adventures. Fighters are soldiers with expertly honed weapons skills and knowledge of military tactics. The fighter class can’t represent the brute ferocity of the wild-man. If you are to imagine the battles between Rome and Gaul, it would be hard name meaningful similarities between the warriors on the two sides. What I’m a little less fond of is the rage mechanic which is part-in-parcel of every barbarian class. I don’t actively dislike rage mechanics, they’re flavorful and they work fine. I just don’t think it’s such a perfect fit for the barbarian concept that it deserves to be ubiquitous.

As an example, I once made a class called the Whirling Berserker which received a bonus to attack rolls so long as she attacked a different target on each turn. As such, the character would be most effective if she moved through a battle, attacking everyone she passed, rather than engaging with a single opponent.

So while I think the concept deserves some more creative thinking than it normally gets, I none the less approve of the class’s inclusion in the Pathfinder RPG.

Fast Movement:Movement speed is important to grid based combat. And while I don’t like to be forced to use a grid, I certainly like to have it as an option. The potential problem of Fast Movement is that it does tie a group down to using a grid, because if a grid is not used, then the barbarian player’s class is functionally gimped. That being said, I have GMed for several barbarians, and none of them have complained yet during the battles where I choose to run things grid-less.

That’s really a minor issue however, as Pathfinder combat is intended to be run with a grid. And when using a grid, the rate of movement has some very interesting effects on combat. If anything, I’d like to see more movement speed bonuses and penalties in the game.

Rage: I’ve already mentioned that I don’t think rage mechanics deserve to be ubiquitous, but it’s here, so lets talk about how it’s implemented.

Honestly I’d rather see rage be more dramatically powerful, but come with more significant drawbacks. As it stands, Rage is certainly…’balanced.’ It’s a boon to the class which allows them to be competitive in combat. But that’s a metric which I believe to be overrated. Not entirely without value, mind you, but certainly overrated. I won’t go into that now, but I recommend Brendan of Untimately’s thoughts on the matter.

Instead of a small bonuses and penalties, I want to see Barbarians hurl stones that weigh as much as they do–but I also want them to have a possibility to attack their fellows, or flee from a flashy magical effect. I haven’t thought out how this might be implemented, but I’d enjoy it a lot more than a +4 bonus to Strength and Constitution. Snore.

Rage Powers: Despite myself, I love rage powers. They overcomplicate the class, confuse new players, and encourage veteran players to concentrate on their character’s ‘build,’ rather than improvement through play. But all of that aside, I think Rage Powers are awesome. They’re elegantly flavorful, and lend the rage ability the type of drama I was lamenting the lack of above.

Consider that when enraged, a character could gain the ability to see in the dark, or run twice as fast, or deflect swords with the sheer bulginess of their muscles. It is fun, and awesome. And–better yet–most every one of the rage powers presented in the core rulebook avoid my problem with feats. They’re mostly improvements to stuff the character could already attempt, or legitimately new abilities, rather than agency-damaging game options.

Though I do love them, I think Rage Powers might benefit from being made much more powerful, and acquired much more slowly.

Improved / Uncanny Dodge: There’s not a lot to say about this pair of abilities. They might be seen as complications, but at least they’re not minor, fiddly ones. The inability to be caught flat footed, or the inability to be flanked, change a lot about how combat will work. The pair works well with barbarian flavor–particularly if you consider my alternative to ‘rage’ noted above–so no complaints on that front either.

Trap Sense: This, on the other hand, is a minor fiddly complication; and not one which fits particularly well with Barbarian flavor. I’ve always hated Trap Sense, even for rogues. Perhaps it might carry more weight if traps were deadlier in Pathfinder. (Of course, traps are plenty deadly in my games. But not in Pathfinder raw.)

Damage Reduction: I think damage reduction is a really elegant mechanic, and one of the best innovations of D&D 3rd edition.* I think it’s also a good fit for the Barbarian, since they’re so ferocious and battle scarred that minor blows have completely ceased to phase them.

Greater / Mighty Rage: While I’m okay with rage as a barbarian ability, I do not like these kinds of rage ‘upgrades.’ I suppose there’s nothing inherently wrong with them, but it makes the character’s progression seem stilted. I would much rather see rage improve organically. So instead of +4 strength at level 1, +6 at level 11, and +8 at level 20; rage could simply give characters a 25% increase in strength. As the character’s strength improved, so would the strength bonus they received when they raged.

As an alternative, all improvements to rage could come in the form of something similar to rage powers.

Indomitable Will: I can’t help but feel this ought to just be a rage power. Maybe it was deemed to be out of balance with other rage power options, but as I mentioned, I think rage powers ought to have a more dramatic effect anyway.

Tireless Rage: I’ve decided I’m too tired and apathetic to write what I think about Tireless Rage. Instead, just go up and read what I think about Indomitable Will, because my thoughts on that ability are literally identical to my thoughts on Tireless Rage. I seriously considered copy-pasting it.

*Please forgive me, and correct me, if I’m missing a piece of gaming history here.

The Girl and the Granite Throne: Chapter Five

Erin and Byert sat in the cobbler’s shop, sipping tea his wife had brought to them. It was dark now, and the cobbler had been out for several hours letting the other faithful know that there would be a gathering that evening. He had told her they may not be ready until late into the night. Some of the faithful would need to cancel plans or make excuses in order to sneak away for an unscheduled meeting such as this. She tried to act as though that’s what she had expected–but truthfully the thought hadn’t occurred to her. Though she followed the god of secrets, she’d spent most of her life among the god’s followers, and never needed to make excuses for pursuing his ends.

The cobbler’s wife–Nara, if Erin recalled correctly–entered the room with clasped hands.

“They’re ready for you now, mistress” the woman said. Erin thanked her. No need to be haughty when someone was already showing you the proper respect. She stepped out of the room, gesturing for Byert and ‘Nara’ to follow. They descended the hidden staircase, not bothering to close the shelf behind them as it was well past midnight. The walk through the tunnel was brief, and they emerged into the meeting room to find it filled with a scant handful of people. Erin took count, there were only nine, including the cobbler and his wife. Nine faithful to help her conquer a town of over a thousand. She’d known her resources were scarce when she made her plans with Immar, but seeing their numbers in front of her made the task seem all the more impossible.

She did her best to put her uncertainty aside. She needed to appear confident, and authoritative. Again she strode to the center of the room, and stood behind the altar.

“Do you know who I am?” she asked, hoping she sounded intimidating. Every head in the room nodded, and she hoped that was a good sign. “Good. Then here’s what you need to know: the government of Heathrop has been deemed corrupt by The Bite. It must be cleansed by the brilliance of the Hidden Lord. Tomorrow night, during the festival of high summer, we shall take the town as our own.”

Erin paused for their reactions, and she wasn’t disappointed. They looked shocked, and rightfully so. She had not, nor would she, mention that several ‘Trenche‘ of Illumian warblades would be coming in to handle most of the fighting. They didn’t need to know that. Immar trusted the faithful of Heathrop, but he wasn’t willing to let his entire plan hinge on their discretion.

Erin continued, without acknowledging their trepidation. “I was told that one among you is a local brewer, is that correct?” A thin young man stepped forward, clasping his hands nervously.

“That would be me, ma’am.”

“Excellent,” she said. Loatie hopped out of one of her robe’s many pockets with two plants in his mouth. She took them and held them up to the young man. “Are you familiar with these two flowers, brewer?”

“Well, the red ones grow just outside town.” he replied. “I’m not familiar with this thorny one, though.”

“It grows in the woods, about half a mile south near the edge of the stream. Tomorrow I want all of you to gather as many of these flowers as you can before mid afternoon. Once you’ve got them, you’ll crush four of the red ones and two of the thorny ones into each barrel of ale you’ve got. Together with the alcohol, they form a powerful sleeping agent. During the festival tomorrow evening, you’ll be giving away as much free ale as you have. Do you understand?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good. Now who is the priest that leads this congregation?” The eldest of the group straightened up

“I am Erbon Illad, a Thought of the Hidden Lord.”

“And our lord has blessed you with the ability to raise those who have fallen as our allies?”

“He has.”

“Then you and I shall travel to the graveyard as the festival begins. My magics have not yet granted me that ability, but my warblade companion and I can protect you as you chant your spells.”

“Perhaps you overestimate my power, ma’am.” the priest said, choosing his words carefully so as not to offend her, “I cannot raise enough to subdue the town’s guard.”

“I don’t expect you to.” Erin replied, “I merely expect you to raise as many as you can.” The priest looked unsure, but bowed in submission.

Erin looked out over the room again “The remaining seven of you will also have a task to perform during the festival. As you know, there are three armories in town for the militia to arm themselves from, should the town come under attack. These buildings are locked, but not guarded. As twilight approaches, shortly before the festivities begin, you will force your way into the armory nearest the town square, and barricade it from any entry. With everyone in the town square for the festival, the other two armories will be too far away to do them any good.”

“I assume everyone understands what I’m asking of them. Are there any questions?” Another young man, this one more broadly built than the brewer, spoke up.

“That’s hardly enough for us to take the town, ma’am.”

“No, it is not.” Erin agreed. “But it is what you will do.”

The man snarled “And why should we think this girl speaks for the Maimed Lord?” he shouted, half turning to his fellows. Byert began to step forward, but Erin was already moving. Swinging her duom spear in a wide arc, she brought the steel shaft across the blaggard’s temple, hard. He dropped to the ground with an ugly thud, some blood dribbling from his slack lip.

“You had led me to believe that my credentials were well understood, but let me repeat myself. I am Erin Wallcraft, sent on behalf of Immar Twistfinger, known to you as The Bite. I speak for him. When this brute wakes, I trust you’ll inform him of why my orders are to be followed, yes?” She turned immediately and strode to the exit, trying to hide the smile creeping on to her face. Her delivery of that speech had been much better this time.

She caught only a glimpse of their frightened nods as she left. They were…satisfying.

—

Erin took a room at the Heathrop Inn and got as much rest as she could. She instructed Loatie not to wake her, and without him she slept well into the midmorning. When she woke, she studied her spellbook more carefully than normal, knowing the incantations selected would be the ones she took with her into battle. It took her over an hour to meticulously lay the pathways for each spell in her mind, focusing the complex energies of the arcane so that when she needed, she would be able to release them with a snap of her fingers, rather than a twenty minute ritual. It was very nearly noon before she walked out of her room to meet Byert downstairs.

With her plans already set in motion, there was little to do but wait for the evening. The pair spent their time walking through the streets, examining the guard’s movements, and the festival preparations. They hoped to spot some of the paladins and take their measure, but the two of them had no more luck on that count than Erin had the day before. They checked the armories to ensure no guards had been posted there as part of the festival preparations, and did their best to familiarize themselves better with the streets which would soon be their battlefield.

The waiting was interminable. Erin’s stomach was twisting itself into knots, and she frequently caught herself gritting her teeth. She just wanted the fighting to start already. The danger couldn’t be any worse than the waiting was. She had skipped breakfast, and wasn’t feeling hungry at all. If anything, the thought of food nauseated her. It took Byert an hour to convince her to join him in a small meal purchased from a street vendor. The two sat by the side of the cart. Byert ate vigorously, and Erin envied his calm. Young though he was, this would probably not be his first time in combat. The best she could manage was to nibble at the steamed vegetables and sweet bread.

Suddenly, she was struck from behind, and nearly bowled over. Regretting that she left her spear in the Cobbler’s shop, she brought a spell to mind, and nearly cast it before she noticed a man’s form tumble to the side of her. She righted herself, dropping her food to the dirt road and leaping to her feet. She noticed Byert was already up, clutching a small dagger she hadn’t realized he was carrying. The tumbling man was sprawled in the street, face down. With a quiet hiss and a nod, Erin indicated Byert should put the dagger away, and it disappeared into his sleeve.

“Are you alright?” she asked the man, trying to sound like someone who hadn’t been convinced she was under attack a moment ago. He made it to his knees, and Erin offered him a hand to help him to his feet.

“I’m fine, but what about you? I’m so sorry, I ought to look where I’m going!”

“It’s no problem, you just startled us is a-” Erin trailed off as her eyes met his. He was gods-damned gorgeous. He stared back at her, and it seemed as though a long time passed before he spoke again.

“Well…if you’re sure you’re alright, I won’t impose on your time.” he said, offering her a small bow before turning and taking a step away. He didn’t get further than that before he stopped, and turned around to face her again.

“I’m sorry for being so presumptuous, miss, but will you be attending the festival tonight? Would it be possible for me to meet you there? I am told the local cuisine is particularly superb during festivals, and I would be happy to treat you and your companion by way of an apology. I clearly owe you that much.” He indicated Erin’s lunch lying in the road. Her lip quirked a bit. This would have been a pleasant surprise at any other time.

Vecna did love his irony.

“You’ll see me there.” she said, trying to sound alluring rather than ominous, and not sure she succeeded.

“Excellent. I’m glad.” he said with a smile. He reached out a hand to shake hers. “I’m Sarin, by the way. And you are?”

Erin returned his smile “You can meet me properly tonight. Much more fun that way.” It took a significant force of will not to visibly wince at her own pitiful attempt at dodging the question. She wasn’t even sure why she’d done it, it’s not as though her name would give anything away. Fortunately for her, he seemed oblivious to just how awkward she was being.

“Then I’ll meet you tonight. Good day, miss!” he said cheerily, before bowing once more and turning to leave. She stared after him for a moment before Byert stepped up beside her,

“We should get moving” he said in a low voice. “Twilight is approaching, and we should equip ourselves before meeting with the others.”

Erin nodded, returning to the grim present.

The two made their way back to the cobbler’s home, where they’d left their more obvious combat gear the night before. Adventurers passed through town often enough that she doubted anyone would have found it terribly suspicious if they had kept it with them but there was no need to risk undue attention. Byert donned the light leather-and-chain he had brought, strapped his sword to his side, and his shield to his back. Erin, meanwhile got out of her non-threatening robes, and changed into her more comfortable breeches. She was relieved to take possession of her Duom back from the cobbler’s wife. It had only been a few days since it had been given to her, but she’d felt naked without it.

When they emerged from the back room, the old priest from the meeting was waiting for them. Erin stepped forward and nodded curtly.

“Good eve, Thought.” she said, addressing the priest by his formal title.

“And to you, Tooth.” he replied, using hers.

“Does your congregation understand my instructions?”

“They are being implemented as we speak. We all spent the day gathering the herbs you showed us. When I last saw Horace, he was beginning to add your concoction to his brew. The rest will meet at the armory 15 minutes after the evening lamps are lit and the festivities begin.” He smiled a wicked smile “And I am here to lead you to the graveyard. At a casual stroll, we should arrive shortly after full darkness.”

“Lead the way then, Thought.” Erin said, giving him a smile of her own. “And may the hidden lord see our victory in his right eye, and our failure in his left.”

“Let us pray it will be so.” replied the priest.

The three moved casually through the streets, taking side roads and avoiding any paths with the sounds of people coming from them. Not that there were many people to be avoided. Everyone had already gathered in the center of town for the festival of high summer, leaving the side roads deserted. As the priest had estimated, they reached the graveyard not long after dark. It was a modest plot of land a few hundred feet away from the nearest building of the town proper. The local custom of planting a small bush on each plot was the only indication that anyone was buried there.

The old priest nearly skipped as he approached. Despite his earlier trepidation, he seemed eager to begin. If Erin had to guess, she’d say he had rarely had the opportunity to reanimate the dead. Immar had told told her the feeling of power was an intoxicating experience.

“They’re too deep for us to dig up quickly” he said. He was trying to keep his voice low, but Erin could hear the excitement in it. “They’ll have to dig themselves out, but the spell will take longer if I can’t touch the bodies. I’ll raise as many as I can.”

“Be quick about it, Thought.” Erin said, turning to look back towards the town. “Our time is limited, and The Bite is relying on us to do our job well.” His only reply was to begin chanting the reanimation ritual behind her.

“Byert,” she called the the warrior, standing just a few feet away. “Keep your eyes peeled for anyone who might be within sight or hearing. If the town is alerted to this before we’re ready, then the entire plan will fail.” The warblade nodded. He’d already subdued his lighted runes to help his night vision, and was peering out at the town intently.

A quarter hour passed, then another, then a third. The edges of the town remained dark, and the sounds of the festival remained distant. Every few minutes Erin heard the squish of dirt as another skeletal creature clawed its way out of the ground to stand behind the chanting priest. It was a half hour longer before Erin saw it—a flare of light. Red and yellow dancing around each other as they flew into the air, and paused just past the treeline.

The Illumians had entered the city.

“Alright!” Erin called behind her, so terrified it was a wonder her voice didn’t crack. “The signal has been raised. Thought, lead your skeletons towards the center of town and drive anyone you come across back that way. Don’t let anyone escape!”

“Yes, my lady!” the priest roared. To his newly raised minions he commanded, “Now, through the city! Drag any who flee back to its center!”

Silently, the dozen and a half skeletons slinked towards town, with the priest behind them shouting praises to his god as though the battle was over, rather than just beginning.

Erin chanted a spell of protection for herself, running through the words and gestures quickly to surround herself in a magical field. It wasn’t as good as a suit of armor, but it was better than going into battle in nothing but her breeches and blouse. And, unlike armor, it wouldn’t hinder her movement enough to make the gestural aspect of spellcasting difficult.

“Byert, my magic is best used from a distance. We need to find the closest area of heavy fighting so I can assist.”

“Lets climb to a rooftop, then.” the warblade suggested. “It will give us a better vantage point, and provide us with some cover if any bowmen spot us.”

“Good thinking.” Erin replied, already running off towards the buildings. Byert was close on her heels. They dodged through the streets, moving closer to the town square, and trying to avoid any minor skirmishes as they approached the center of the fighting. They found a nice two-story building–the Inn they’d stayed in the previous night, actually–which would give Erin a good vantage point to cast from. It had a gnarled tree beside it which was easy enough to climb, though Byert’s armor gave him some trouble.

They made it to the roof and walked carefully towards the edge. What they saw was chaos. A large number of people were passed out, asleep from the drugged ale, but many others were armed and fighting back against a ring of llumian warblades who, masters of battle though they were, were struggling against numerous defenders each. Aside from the town guard and a few peasants with swords, there were the Paladins. Fully armored titans on the battlefield. There were fewer of them than there were of the warblades, but with Immar’s forces already overwhelmed by the townsfolk, they were no match for the seasoned crusaders. The paladins waded through the crowd, slaying the Illumians as they would animals at slaughter. She didn’t see Immar, but a lightning bolt called down from the sky to strike one of the Paladins dead told her that her master was still alive.

She was trying to determine where her help was most needed when she heard a rapid series of heavy footsteps behind her. She dropped to her face immediately, but not so quickly that she didn’t feel the wind from a large weapon pass through the space where her head had been. Erin rolled to her back to see the heavily armored paladin reverse his swing, bringing an armored elbow to bear against Byert’s head, forcibly pushing the young warrior to the side, where he stumbled and fell from the roof with a cry, and an ugly sounding thud.

The Paladin turned his gaze back towards Erin, as she frantically moved her hands and chanted the words required to release a spell. Then their eyes met, and the warrior and the wizard both froze in place. The paladin was the gorgeous young man Erin had flirted with mere hours before. He stumbled to speak.

“How…I thought you were…” he began, visibly upset. She locked eyes with him, saying nothing, but offering a silent prayer that he didn’t notice her hands finishing the motions of her spell.

He didn’t.

Erin stretched out her hand, whispering the triggering words just as the paladin raised his sword to defend. A bolt of white light shot from her index finger like an arrow, striking the man in the center of his armored chest, sending him stumbling back and giving Erin time to scramble to her feet. She leaped towards her dropped spear, and brought it to bear just in time to block another swing from the Paladin’s sword. It struck hard enough to send the spear flying from her hands and off of the roof. The force of the blow rattled the bones in her hands painfully. She had no time to react as the paladin brought his greatsword around for a second blow, connecting directly to her hip. The magical protections she had cast upon herself did a little to turn the blow, but the blade still cut into her side, and the force of it sent her stumbling towards the edge of the roof. She fell, tumbling through the air gracelessly and landing hard on the dirt road below.

A moment later she woke to Loatie frantically croaking in her face. She hadn’t even realized she’d fallen unconscious, but she wasn’t dead or in custody so it couldn’t have been very long. She tried to stand, but fell immediately prone again, nearly crushing Loatie beneath her. Her body could not support her. She dragged herself through the dirt to the wall of the building she’d fallen from, propping herself up against it to prepare for the imminent arrival of her foe. She didn’t have to wait long.

His clanking footsteps announced his presence before Erin was able to see his form in the darkness. He stood in front of her broken body, sword held at the ready.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked, sounding confused and sad. Erin made no reply, giving him a hard look with her one good eye. He raised his sword with both hands, and placed its tip over her left breast.

“I’m sorry. I’ll make it quick.” He said. Then, whispering only just loudly enough for her to hear, “You were so pretty, too.” He paused to look her in the eye before delivering the finishing blow, and in that moment Erin completed her spell.

Black energy arced between the two, filling the air with a shifting, crackling magical force. Erin couldn’t see his face in the darkness, but his shoulders slumped and the blade drooped away from her breast, then fell completely as his arms became too weak to hold the heavy steel. The paladin fell to his knees before her, breathing heavily.

“Gods, what did you do to me?” he rasped. Without answering, Erin struggled to a kneeling position, bringing herself face to face with the boy. She bore into him with her eyes, breathing hard and trying to gather her strength. The spell of weakness would last a full minute. That was enough time. She reached out to cradle his jaw in her hand.

“It’s too bad,” Erin coughed. “You were so pretty too.”

Then she placed her index finger in the boy’s mouth, and released another bolt of energy, directly into his head. His body twitched, and went suddenly limp. Erin released him and he dropped to the ground. Blood, and bits of grey matter dribbled from his gaping mouth.

She remained on her knees and stared for a long time. Stared into the blank expressionless eyes which had seemed so alluring to her only a few hours before. Then she doubled over and vomited next to his corpse. She’d hurt people before. She’d hurt a lot of people, actually. But she’d never killed anyone. But…she’d had to, right?

“I’m sorry.” she whispered, feeling a lot less sure of herself now that the immediate danger had passed.

Carefully Erin rolled the body to the side, away from the mess she’d created. She shakily pulled herself to her feet. This time she managed not to collapse. Calling for Loatie to return to her, she moved to find her spear. It had fallen off this side of the roof as well, and wasn’t difficult to retrieve. Leaning heavily on it as a walking stick, she shuffled around to the opposite side of the building, where Byert was struggling to pull himself to his hands and knees after his own fall. In the dim light of his runes, she could see his head was covered in blood. It looked like his fall had been worse than hers.

“Damnit, Warblade!” she said, trying to sound jovial as she rushed to help him to his feet. “Some protector you turned out to be!”

“I am sorry, my lady.” he said deliriously. “I’m sorry…”

“Shut up, I was joking.” she spat. The boy had enough presence of mind to force a weak courtesy chuckle.

Just then, the two heard a voice from up ahead, so loud it had to be magically enhanced.

“People of Heathrop, I come to you bearing good news!” it began. It was Immar’s voice. “Your corrupt mayor has brought my wrath down upon this town, but I do not wish to come to you as a conqueror. I have defeated you, and now I wish to liberate you…”

The old wizard continued on, but Erin stopped listening. It was clear what the speech meant – the battle was over, and her master had been victorious. With Byert standing somewhat sturdily on his feet, the two shuffled through the streets towards the center of town, leaning on one another to keep from falling over. They emerged into the town square after a few minutes, with Immar still speaking. Most of the warblades stood in a containment perimeter around the people there, while others moved into the street to search for anyone trying to flee.

As Immar finished his speech, telling the people he’d just conquered that he would lead them into a new era of enlightenment, he saw Erin and Byert near the edge of the crowd, and gestured to one of his bodyguards. She stepped down into the throng of frightened humans, and they scrambled to give her room. She escorted the two wounded teenagers up to Immar, who embraced his apprentice, grinning as though he didn’t even notice her bruises and blood soaked clothes.

“My dear girl!” he cried. “You did well! We might have been overwhelmed if not for your efforts.” Erin struggled to think of how to reply. Right now, she felt pain more acutely than any sense of victory.

A weak “Thank you” was the best she could manage.

“Please,” he continued “Name any spoil, it will be yours!”

“A week of sleep would be nice.” she said, managing a smile for her mentor. He laughed boisterously, clearly in a good mood after his victory. Then Erin noticed a group of people off to the side, away from the rest of the crowd. Perhaps two dozen of them, guarded by four Warblades.

“Who are they, Master?” she asked, nodding towards the group. Immar glanced at them. “oh, no one, really. The mayor, his cronies, and their families. I’m afraid we can’t keep them around to disrupt the utopia we will build.”

“Those two.” she pointed, indicating a pair of boys in the group. The same two boys who had mocked her the day before. “The blonde haired boys in white shirts.”

“The mayor’s sons?” Immar asked. “What about them?”

“I would have them.” she said, turning to look Immar in the eye. “They insulted me, and if I may have my pick of the spoils then I would have them.”

Immar shrugged “As you wish, my dear. Now I’m afraid I must attend to the securing our conquest. For now, take the rest you asked for. You’ve earned it.” the older wizard walked away.

Byert stepped forward, apparently having regained some of his senses. “Would you like me to cut out their tongues?”

“No” Erin let a wicked grin spread across her face, and turned back to the two pretty captives which were now hers to do with as she pleased. “I have use for their tongues.”

Colorful Characters 24: Kringular Clawfist

(Fun story: I made this stat block for Christmas 2011, but I didn’t get around to writing the backstory until after Christmas, so I decided to put it off for a year.)

Kringular Clawfist is one of the last truly immortal elves. Most others have long since left the mortal realm to explore other planes, or died through conflict. But Kringular has always been different. His great passion, which he never tired of in countless millenia, was family. The elf fathered many children, and loved them dearly throughout their whole lives. But long lived as elves are, none of Kringular’s children could truly be immortal as he was. Over tens of thousands of years, Kringular watched each of his children die in turn. At first he sought to find solace in his younger offspring, but they to would eventually grow old and die. To a true immortal like himself, even a hundred thousand years seemed a pitifully short time to live.

Driven mad with grief, Kringular came to believe that life was meaningless. If it has an end, what point can there be? Existence was a cruel joke played by cruel gods who wished to give the short lived a glimpse of something beautiful so just so they could take it away. And Kringular was their audience. Forced to watch the same joke repeat over and over again.

He could not bear it. He would not allow the gods their cruelty. Kringular swore an oath to end every life in defiance of the gods. For tens of thousands of years he has worked to keep that oath, walking at random, killing every living creature he encounters, and thinking it a kindness. He has become completely irrational in his quest, unable to comprehend that others may value their short lives. In his view, they have been fooled.

In quiet moments, Kringular makes toys as he once did for his children. It’s doubtful that his conscious mind is even aware of the act. He merely fiddles with the construction in his hands while he walks, or sits staring blankly ahead. He never looks at his work, and the moment a toy is completed he immediately drops it to the ground and begins another.

Kringular Clawfist (CR 6)
XP: 3,200
Male Elven Barbarian 7
CE medium humanoid
Init +2; Senses Perception +14, Low Light Vision

Defenses

AC 19, Flat Footed 14, Touch 15 [10 + Armor(5) + Dex(3) + Dodge(1)] (add +2 against traps) (Cannot be caught flat footed or flanked.)
hp 71 (7d12 + 21)
dr 1/-
Immunities Sleep effects
Fort +8 Ref +4 (+6 against traps) Will +4 (+6 v. Enchantments)

Offense

Speed 45ft
Melee Heavy Warhammer +13/8 (2d6 +6/x3)

Stats

Str 17 (+3) Dex 14 (+2) Con 17 (+3) Int 14 (+2) Wis 14 (+2) Cha 15 (+2)
Base Atk +7/2; CMB +10; CMD 22
Feats Extra Rage, Dodge, Fleet, Skill Focus (Stealth)
Skills Climb (+13), Handle Animal (+12), Craft(Toys) (+12), Perception (+14), Ride (+12), Stealth (+12), Survival (+12)
Languages Common, Elven
SQ
–Rage (25 Rounds/Day): +4 to Str and Con, +2 to Will Saves, -2 AC
—Rage Power(No Escape): Can move double-speed as an immediate action if opponent attempts withdraw action. Must end move adjacent to the enemy which withdrew.
—Rage Power(Night Vision): Has Darkvision up to 60ft while raging.
—Rage Power(Knockback): 1/round, may make a bull rush attempt in place of a melee attack. If successful, the target takes damage equal to Kringular’s Strength modifier, and is moved back as normal. Kringular does not need to move with the target, nor does this provoke an attack of opportunity.
Gear +3 Heavy Warhammer, +2 Studded Leather Armor, Belt of Displacement, Boots of Easy Passage, Gloves of Flight, Great Bag of Holding, 1,500 gold pieces, innumerable toys.

Item Descriptions

Belt of Displacement Allows Kringular to pass through solid objects such as walls or floors at will. Activating this ability is a standard action.
Boots of Easy Passage Allows Kringular to cast gaseous form as the spell at will.
Gloves of Flight Allow Kringular to cast Flight as the spell at will.
Great Bag of Holding is a bag of holding which holds a potentially limitless amount of items. Only Kringular can use this item without being encumbered. Even a horse, or cart, or giant would find itself struggling to hold the heavy object.

Picture Thursday 7: Ogam Thorton by Gus L.

Having friends with artistic talents has ups and downs. The downside is that I hate them for making my shitty doodles look even worse by comparison. The upside is that they still love me, and they make me lovely drawings like this one. Oh so many lovely drawings.

This particular piece is from Gus L., esteemed author of Dungeon of Signs, and my adventuring companion in the Vaults of Pahvelorn. During many of our games, Gustie plays while working on drawings. At the start of a recent game, he asked that everyone in the party write a brief description of their character’s appearance. He then proceeded to sketch each of our characters during the course of a 3 hour game session. There were four of us there that day, which means Gustie completed each of these sketches in less than an hour. That may not be too impressive to someone who does a lot of art themselves, I don’t know. But it’s damned impressive to me. And Ogam looks way cooler than I ever imagined!

I highly recommend you check out Gustie’s blog, for more of his art, his play reports, and generally awesome bloggie goodness.

Page by Page: Gary Gygax’s DMG Part 9

This is the ninth installment of my continuing series on the 1979 Dungeon Master’s Guide, written by Gary Gygax. This post begins with the section “The Campaign” on page 86, and continues through “The Town and City Social Structure” on page 90. My purpose is not to review the DMG, but to go through it as a modern gamer, learning about the roots of Dungeons and Dragons, and making note when I see something surprising or interesting, or something which could be adapted for a modern game.

You can read all posts in this series under the Gary Gygax’s DMG tag.

The Campaign: I’ve read a fair share of sourcebooks at this point in my life, and I’ve never been fully satisfied with how the GMing information is presented. Whenever I read one, I imagine how I would interpret those instructions were I a new player again, learning to GM for the first time. There are always huge gaps in what the information should contain, and they never present a clear path between where to start, and how to develop your skills as you learn more. And while the DMG isn’t perfect in this regard, it certainly does better than most other sourcebooks I’ve read. I think page 87 may be my single favorite page in the entire book so far.

What stood out to me more than anything I did notice, is what I did not notice. No great emphasis was placed on the idea that the game could take any shape the GM could imagine. That was mentioned later, but the first four paragraphs of “The Campaign” provide the kind of straightforward advice I wish I had received when I was just starting out as a GM. This section in particular is golden:

“You are probably just learning, so take small steps at first. The milieu for initial adventures should be kept to a size commensurate with the needs of campaign participants–your available time as compared with the demands of the players. This will typically result in your giving them a brief background, placing them in a settlement, and stating that they should prepare themselves to find and explore the dungeon/ruin they know is nearby. As background you inform them that they are from some nearby place where they were apprentices learning their respective professions, that they met by chance in an inn or tavern and resolved to journey together to seek their fortunes in the dangerous environment, and that, beyond the knowledge common to the area (speech, alignments, races, and the like), they know nothing of the world.”

That, hands down, is the best introduction to being a game master that I’ve ever read in a sourcebook. Gygax knows that given infinite options, people will become confused about how to frame their options, and indecisive about which to choose. He provides straightforward advice for what your game should initially look like, and as the section goes forward he expands on that. The more time you spend as a dungeon master, the greater the demands on your creativity will be, and you’ll be forced to grow your knowledge and your campaign world at an organic pace. While this is happening, you’ll also be gaining valuable experience with the tools of your trade, and confidence in your own ideas. It doesn’t take long for a GM to realize they don’t need the game to tell them what their job is anymore.

What sourcebooks really need to provide is that first step, and the tools with which to build off of it. And the Dungeon Master’s Guide does this beautifully here.

Setting Things in Motion: Continuing in like fashion from the previous section, this may include the best description of how to run a town that I have ever read. Running towns and cities is a task I think I’ve always been my own worst enemy with. I get so focused on coming up with grand schemes for how to make the town work simply, that I never really considered how ultimately simple the entire process could be. And while I think I do a pretty good job of it, I also think I could be doing a lot better if I took a step back, set my elaborate plans aside, and adhered to this simple advice:

“Set up the hamlet or village where the action will commence with the player characters entering and interacting with the local population. Place regular people, some “different” and unusual types, and a few non-player characters (NPCs) in the various dwellings and places of business. Note vital information particular to each. Stock the goods available to the players. When they arrive, you will be ready to take on the persona of the settlement as a whole, as well as that of each individual therein. Be dramatic, witty, stupid, dull, clever, dishonest, tricky, hostile, etc. as the situation demands. “

This passage is one I think I will study further, and create my own interpretation of.

Virtually everything you can imagine…: This isn’t a proper subsection, but rather a single quote. I thought about placing it in the “favorite quotes” bit, but I’d actually like to comment on it in greater depth. The emphasis is mine:

“OUtdoor adventures can be in a ruined city or a town which seems normal but is under a curse, or virtually anything which you can imagine and then develop into a playable situation for your campaign participants.“

That point in bold is one of the most overlooked elements in gaming today. It’s why GMs railroad their players, and why video games are plagued by endless cutscenes. We are repeatedly inundated with this idea that the game is the GM’s canvas. Anything they imagine can become a reality. And yes, I would grant (in opposition to Gygax) that the GM can be an artist. But being an artist doesn’t mean you get to do whatever you want and call it good. An artist must be mindful of their medium. As a writer, I can’t expect to insert a soundtrack into my fiction. And as a GM, I can’t expect anyone to give a shit about my unplayable game. Not even if I imagined it really, really hard.

Climate and Ecology: There’s some definitely solid information in here, though nothing I would call stellar. Then again, one of my players is an ecologist in training, and another is an ecological enthusiast, so perhaps I’m just used to taking this stuff into consideration already!

Social Class and Rank in Advanced Dungeons and Dragons: You know, I’ve never actually given serious consideration to social standing in my D&D games. Players have always just been ‘adventurers,’ and the nobility is generally either standoffish or open minded. Including social standing in my games has never really struck me as enticing, but after reading through this subsection I can definitely see the attraction. I don’t have a great deal to say about Gygax’ particular thoughts, since I have little experience of my own to draw upon in this area. But you can bet I’ll be experimenting.

Favorite Quotes from this Section

“It is no exaggeration to state that the fantasy world builds itself, almost as if the milieu actually takes on a life and reality of its own. This is not to say that an occult power takes over. It is simply that the interaction of judge and players shapes the bare bones of the initial creation into something far larger. ” -Gygax, DMG, Page 87
“My own GREYHAWK campaign, for example, assumes all player characters (unless I personally place one who is otherwise) are freemen or gentlemen, or at worst they can safely represent themselves to be so. (Note that the masculine/human usage is generic; I do not like the terms freecreatures or gentlebeings!)” -Gygax, DMG, Page 88