Book Review: "At the Queen's Command," by Michael A. Stackpole

Book cover of “At the Queen’s Command” by Michael A. Stackpole.

Full disclosure: Mike Stackpole is a personal hero of mine. As a writer, as an independent thinker, and as a righteous dude. I’ve read and loved his books since I was a young child, so I’ll readily confess that I’m more than a little biased in assessing the quality of his work. None the less, I think this book might be of interest to my readership, so I wanted to share my thoughts with you.

I first picked “At the Queen’s Command” quite some time ago, back when Boarders was going out of business and selling off old stock for a fraction of its value. Its taken me this long to pick it up because I’m disinclined towards early colonial history. Ball and powder muskets bore me, and the rules used to engage in combat turned actual war into “combat as sport.” Not to mention the uncomfortable reality that the slaughter of native peoples and the slave trade are intrinsically linked to many of the ‘heroes’ of that period.

However, this world is entirely fictional. Though obviously based on the history surrounding the American revolutionary war, the names and circumstances have been altered. “Mystria” stands in for America, “Norisle” for England, “Tharyngia” for France, and “Altashee” for native peoples. This approach allows the book to go beyond the constraints of typical historical fiction or alternative history, into complete historical fantasy. A history where proto-draconic wurms are the pets of nobility and the mounts of the most prestigious cavalry. In this world magic is commonplace, but weak and of extremely limited use, requiring technology (such as the “firestones” in guns) to make it effective. It also allows for the oppression of the natives to be approached without historical baggage, and for slavery to be omitted entirely. The relationship Stackpole’s world has to the real one isn’t so different from the relationship Middle Earth or Westros has to medieval England. The parallels are just a little stronger in this instance.

In keeping with the low-magical tone of the setting, the real life wonders of the new world often dwarf those elements of the story which are actually fantastic. When wurms are introduced, they are treated as commonplace. The characters not only know they exist, but also have experience being around and handling them. Then there’s this passage, which is among my favorite in the book:

“There, thirty yards away, a massive beast on long legs emerged from the brush and onto a small sandbar jutting into the river. Brown in color save for its long, buff muzzle, its head was crowned with a huge rack of thick antlers. Its stubby tail and brown ears flicked about. The creature surveyeed the riverside, then cropped some of the grasses growing at the river’s edge.
“Owen lowered the pistol and released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. At that range he couldn’t have hit the beast. No matter. Such was its size that a single lead ball wouldn’t bring it down. Even a jeopard might think twice.
“The monster looked in his direction for a moment, then ambled back into the river and swam across the deep center channel. Once it had its feet under it again, the creature strolled toward the far shore, nibbling as it went. It never cast a glance back.”

Later, Owen is informed that what he saw was a moose.

But while a good setting (which this is) is important for a fantasy piece, the characters and narrative are what make a book worth reading. Here is where “At the Queen’s Command” really excels. The author gives us characters we can easily fall in love with; a duty-bound soldier who wants to do the right thing, an excitable and passionate natural philosopher, a skilled frontiersman who doesn’t have much use for society, and a native who cares for his friends, but is wary of the danger their people pose to his. He also gives us characters which twisted my gut with fear or tightened my teeth with hatred. I normally have trouble remembering character’s names, but the people inhabiting this world were so real to me that I don’t think there’s a name I’ve forgotten. Even the farmer in Hattesburg who shows up all of three times; his name was Seth.

The book’s narrative is often slow, but never plodding. It does not rush towards action and adventure, but rather takes its time to luxuriously peruse the locals and characters you encounter. Stackpole takes his time, without ever allowing a scene to feel excessive. And when action does occur, I found it that much more exciting. There were times when I was moving my eyes across words as fast as I possibly could because I was frantic to discover what happened next. That’s a very special level of engagement which I wish I experienced more often!

“Compelling” would be the TL;DR version of my thoughts. If you’d go so far as to grant me another word, I think I would go with “Fucking Compelling.“

I’m currently reading the book’s sequel, “Of Limited Loyalty,” and it’s no less impressive. It is tragic that the series’ third installment is in jeopardy due to issues with the publisher.

Buy this book. For serious.

Deadly Dungeons 13: Twisty Turny Dead End

This is a simple room, but one which kept my own players puzzled for some time.

At the end of the hallway, the players pass through a simple opening into a circular room. The room has a stone floor, and walls of bronze which gently curve inward at the ceiling, rising to a point in the center. The walls may be engraved or otherwise adorned, but the room itself is empty. If the players decide that this is merely a dead end, it is important that they be able to go back through the dungeon and take an alternative route.

If the players choose to tap the walls, they will find most of them to be solid. However, there are definite hollow areas which echo when tapped. Closely examining the floor where the ceiling meets the wall will reveal that the bronze walls are fitted into a groove in the floor which extends all the way around the room. This groove is most obvious where the players entered the room. However, given the generally poor condition of the floor, characters will not notice this groove unless they pay special attention to that doorway.

In fact, the bronze cone has special ball bearings beneath it, and can be turned freely. It is heavy, But a concerted effort from a strong character, or two characters with strength 10+, is sufficient to slowly turn the room at a speed of 1/4 rotation per game turn (10 minutes). More characters working together will be able to turn the walls proportionally faster. As the wall turns, the opening moves, revealing previously hidden passages behind the bronze wall.

The danger, of course, is that by turning the cone the players are cutting off their means of escape back through the dungeon. Unless they have enough people to turn the bronze cone very quickly, they will be forced to face any dangers they reveal.

Picture Thursday 23: Creepy Church by Nicole Cardiff

The stillness in this piece is palpable. When I look at it, I swear the room gets a little quieter around me.

Nicole Cardiff’s gallery is extensive. I highly recommend you browse through it. There’s page after page of amazing sci-fi and fantasy artwork. These are some of my favorites from just the first page, because there are too many to list them all:

Knight of Ghosts and Shadows

Water Temple

Ambush

Zombie Gnome

Pathfinder Class Analysis 12: Alchemist

Something which I greatly respect about Pathfinder is the way in which Paizo has avoided system bloat. D&D 3.5’s run produced some truly terrible books, each of which came with a handful of new classes, dozens of new prestige classes, and mountains of new spells. And while Paizo has published books containing all of these, they’ve usually done so with a measured hand. The non-core, base classes are well considered and fit nicely with the 11 core classes. They’ve also been released under the OGL, which Wizards of the Coast did not do with their supplemental material.

So while I’ve completed my analysis of the core classes, I see no reason to stop looking at the rest of them.

Core Concept: While it may seem contrary to my statement above, I hate the Alchemist. In my mind, the existence of an alchemist class which gains access to impossible new heights of alchemical mastery invalidates every wizard who ever made time to focus on brewing potions. In the core rules alchemy is made out to be a great feat–not so for alchemists! They can brew potions in a minute flat!

Hit Die: 1d8 seems quite high, doesn’t it? What makes the alchemist deserve a larger hit die than the wizard? I suppose it might be argued, based on the class description, that “using his own body as experimental stock” has toughened up the otherwise squishy character. But I think 1d6 might be more appropriate.

Alchemy: As mentioned above, my least favorite aspect of this class is the way in which I feel it devalues alchemy. Creating concoctions in a single minute, and being able to create so many in a single day, makes run-of-the-mill alchemy look silly.

Once upon a time I was working on a class (never settled on a name for it, though I did have the working title of “Alchemical Surgeon”). It was primarily a healing class, and while it did receive some bonuses, it largely had to craft potions using the same process as any other class. The primary difference was that the surgeon was much more adept at using the potions, delivering them via needle prick, and allowing a single dose to be used multiple times rather that only once.

I think this would have been a much more interesting route to go than the one the Alchemist’s designers chose. Not only does it avoid the problem of devaluing non-alchemist alchemy, but it avoids another problem as well. The Pathfinder alchemist’s concoctions only work when being held by the alchemist. Something about the alchemist’s aura makes them work, blah blah blah, bullshit. It’s the kind of explanation people come up with when they need to implement a rule for game reasons, and can’t think of sufficient justification for why that rule would exist in the game world, so they just say “magic.”

My surgeon, on the other hand, was able to make concoctions more potent because he or she possessed knowledge of anatomy and knew where & how to inject the patient. That’s a much better explanation in my book.

I will say one positive thing about alchemist alchemy: I like the idea of a caster who can save spell slots to prepare later in the day with a minimal investment of time. That’s something I would like to see implemented better with another class.

Bomb: Bombs are pretty cool, I essentially covered my only issue with them above: they become inert when held by anyone but the alchemist. Which begs the question: what if the target of a thrown bomb catches it? Shouldn’t they be given a chance to do this since the bomb will become inert as soon as they posses it?

Brew Potion: Kinda obvious that this would be a bonus feat at first level.

Mutagen / Persistent Mutagen: This is actually a pretty damned cool idea, and works a mite better than the other two types of Alchemist alchemy (bombs and extracts). A better explanation for why it only works for the alchemist who created it might be that every mutagen must be tailored to the person who will use it, and they are so complex that it’s not really possible to understand another person’s physiology well enough to create a mutagen for them.

One thing I would have liked to see was more flavor. Functionally this is just an alternate form of the Barbarian’s rage ability. I think it would have been cool to have a handful of special monsters which the Alchemist could turn into at different levels.

Throw Anything: I like the Throw Anything feat. It was a clever addition to this class which I don’t know that I would have thought of myself.

Discovery: Perhaps this is just because I’ve been getting more old-school lately, but does anyone else think this would be much more interesting as a random roll rather than a choice the player must make? The impression I get of the alchemist is that they do a lot of random mixing “just to see what will happen,” so random discoveries would be appropriate.

Regardless of how they are chosen, however, I like how this ability is implemented.

Poison Resistance: I think it would be better if Alchemists simply gained immunity to poison at level 2, rather than receiving a resistance which slowly grows until it becomes immunity at level 10. But that’s a pretty consistent difference between Paizo’s design philosophies and my own.

Poison Use: Impossible to poison one’s self while using poisons. Straightforward and logical. I always thought this ability ought to be a feat.

Swift Alchemy / Instant Alchemy: These abilities only further speed up the Alchemist’s ability to create concoctions, and compound my primary issue with the class even further.

Swift Poisoning: Unlike performing alchemy quickly, applying poisons more quickly is pretty mundane and makes good sense to me. Though now that this ability exists, it ought to be an assassin ability as well.

Grand Discovery: This is among the cooler capstone abilities. Again it feels like it should be random, but that’s a pretty small complaint all things considered.

Alchemist Formulae: While I have no comment on the content of the Alchemist’s spell list, I like that the maximum spell level available is 6. There are several “partial casters” like the paladin who are primarily focused on their non-spellcasting abilities, but they normally max out at 4th level spells. The Alchemist leans in the other direction, with a heavier investment in magic. I’d prefer to see more classes like that, I think.

Map Monday

I’ve been working on making better dungeon maps lately. Incorporating interesting elements, creating large branching paths, stuff like that. This is my most recent attempt which I probably won’t be using for anything. I’ve recently become enamored of dungeons with rivers running through them. It’s an interesting way to incorporate something natural into the generally artificial dungeon environment, and serves as an interesting tool for both exploration and encounters.

If you’ve any desire to use this, feel free.

Deadly Dungeons 12: The Hanging Crown Dining Hall

The chamber is arranged as a royal dining hall. The head table is atop a platform 3 steps higher than the rest of the room. The two lower tables are perpendicular to it on either side. The three tables form a squared “U” shape, with the opening towards the room’s entrance. Each table has several finely crafted seats along the outside edge, and while the surfaces of the tables themselves are empty, they are skillfully engraved with images of food. All of the furnishings in the room are finely crafted, and made of a heavy wood. The side walls may hold paintings or tapestries. The three northern walls of the room are covered in a large mural of a forest, with a clearing in the center overlooking the rising sun.

There are three large chandeliers in the room, one hanging over the center of each of the three tables. None of these are lit, but they still have oil in them and could be lit if the characters so choose. Each chandelier is a series of golden circlets, the largest of which has a diameter of nearly 12ft. Each subsequent circlet is a little smaller, and placed a little higher. The effect is a large, stepped cone, covered in small lanterns.

(If the characters seek to take these golden circlets as treasure, they will be disappointed to find that they are in fact gold-plated iron. Very heavy, and only somewhat valuable).

At the king’s seat (center of the high table) there is no chair. Instead there is a throne of stone, with a king of stone upon it. He wears fine robes, with a long but sharply cropped beard, and an intent gaze. A cursory inspection will reveal an oddity about the way his head is carved; there is an indented circlet about it, as though something is meant to be mounted there. In his lap, the king holds a stone scroll engraved with the words:

“In my time there were pretenders to my crown. Each tried to have me slain, and for that crime lived a long life in darkness. For each I had a crown made of finest gold and gems, to wear upon their head in solitude.
“Now that all of us have long past, I will grant these fool’s crowns to any who place my own atop my head.”

Behind the stone king is a chest-high stone table, upon which rests five crowns. Each is unique, and each is an example of craftsmanship no modern smith could match. However, if any of these crowns is taken beyond the room’s entry arch while the stone king is not wearing his crown, then they will crumble into ashes. And unfortunately, none of these five crowns will fit snugly on the statue’s head. All are either too large, or too small.

If the players somehow climb up to the chandelier above the statue’s head, they might discover that the smallest of the statue’s rings is slightly different. Closer inspection will reveal that it is, in fact, a very simple crown. A golden circlet with rising and falling ridges around its edge, a thin velvet lining, and a single diamond mounted in the center. This is the king’s crown, and if placed upon his head, will rest perfectly on the indented ring. There is no click, or flash of light, or sound to let the characters know that the crown is correct. However, if they now choose to take any of the other five crowns out of the room, it can be done successfully without them turning to ash.

If the players at any point attempt to remove the king’s crown from the room, they will be turned to stone upon passing beneath the archway. The crown will then fall from their hands, and roll, wobbling, back into the dining hall.

Picture Thursday 22: Skeleton By Jérémie Fleury

First off, I apologize for my absence over the past two days. For the last week I’ve been in the death-grip of a fucking dreadful cold. I don’t get sick very often, but when I do, it tends to be absolutely debilitating. I won’t go into the gory details of my symptoms, but suffice to say that I’ve experienced a lot of symptoms since last Thursday. Even now I’m hacking up a lung every few minutes. Fortunately for you, that’s not enough to keep me away from a keyboard, so posts will resume their normal schedule from here.

Now, on to today’s lovely depiction of an unholy beast eager to end all life it encounters.

There are a lot of ‘basic’ undead creatures. Stuff we’ve all become used to. The vampire, the ghoul, and the ubiquitous zombie. But if I had to pick the single one which still comes the closest to being honestly frightening to me, it would have to be the skeleton. I don’t know if I could properly say why that is. Perhaps it’s that they seem so much more dead than creatures which still have flesh.

Jérémie Fleury‘s skeleton is hunched over, standing amidst other, less intact bones. Its open grin unsettles me. I think the only thing which would frighten me more about it is if it didn’t have the gaudy glowing eyes. I find the blackness of an empty socket much more scary.

You can see more examples of Jérémie Fleury’s art on his Deviant Art, linked above, or on his website, http://www.trefle-rouge.fr/. He’s made art for a number of interesting-looking products. I don’t know if any of them have English translations, but if not, at least they’re pretty to look at!

Reader Mail: Demon Swords, and Tricking Your Players

The M:tG card which inspired this question.

When I first started writing this blog, I foolishly wrote from a position of authority. Not because I thought I was some tabletop guru with a wisdom of 18, but because I was writing instructions for myself. Writing is a mechanism for working through my own ideas, so I can better understand them. Unfortunately, my readers didn’t know that, and I came off as pompous. It was a weakness of my writing style at the time.

To my surprise, though, some people have actually started believing I’m an authority on tabletop games. I’m occasionally approached with questions on how to run or design a good game. While I think there are probably better people to ask, I certainly don’t mind weighing in with my opinion. (That goes for pretty much any subject. Ever.) Plus it strokes my ego, which is always a pleasure. Sometimes my answers get pretty lengthy, and it only just occurred to me today that I could be posting this shit! So I’m going to start answering reader mail on Papers & Pencils. If you’d like to ask me a question, there’s a “contact” link right up at the top of the site.

Today’s question is from someone predisposed to believe I’m an authority on things, my younger sister. She asks:

“Is it ever a good idea to tempt players with power, and the screw them with it? In particular, I’m looking at a really hard-to-get sword, that doesn’t really do much. The first time it does damage to something though, it turns into a massive demon. The demon will fight with the PCs until all the enemies are dead, at which point it will turn on the party”

(Quote paraphrased for formatting & clarity).

Absolutely! The GM’s entire job is to challenge the players. Doing that in a creative manner is laudable. However, setting out to deceive your players can be challenging. It’s an important skill to learn, but if mishandled, your players may decide you’re just being an asshole. The goal is to challenge them, not fuck them over. To achieve this, I would say you need to keep two things in mind.

First, know what you’re doing and be cognizant of the consequences. You mentioned you want the sword to be “really hard-to-get.” Does that mean it’ll take them 4-6 hours of gameplay to reach it, or will this quest span half a dozen game sessions? The more investment your players put into finding this trick sword, the more frustrated they’ll be when it doesn’t live up to their expectations. Their frustration can also be compounded / exacerbated with ancillary rewards. If the dungeon where the sword is located also includes plenty of other treasure, the players will be less frustrated that their primary goal didn’t work out.

Of course, the GM shouldn’t feel obligated to add elements to reduce player frustration. Frustrating defeats make the game’s victories much sweeter. But the GM should at least know when they’re apt to cause frustration, and decide just how frustrating they want to be.

Second, and far more importantly, never trick your players by lying. Trick your players by glossing over important information, or omitting information which they could find, but probably won’t bother to. For example, when they first hear of this sword, perhaps it’s by discovering an ancient scroll deep in a dungeon. On the scroll is written something to the effect of “The great invincible demon terrorized the townsfolk until Sir Goodly Cleric showed up. The two battled for many days, but only with the Sword of GarbleBlag was the demon’s threat ended. The sword was sealed in the dungeon beneath the town of GlibbidyGob to prevent the demon from becoming a threat once again.”

Knowing the location of a treasure which defeated an invincible demon is a tempting adventure. The players may or may not notice that the sword did not “wound” or “kill” the demon, it merely “ended the demon’s threat.” Even if that were the only hint you included, it would be enough. I’ve gone a step further and added the additional hint that the sword needed to be sealed away to prevent the demon from becoming a threat again. Players will almost certainly notice this, but in my experience the chance they’ll decide the sword isn’t worth pursuing based on that hint is pretty small. More likely they think they’ll need to defeat the demon in order to get the sword, or that the sword will be empowered by the sealed demon. Players tend to think anything which exists, exists to empower them. The game is more fun when this isn’t true.

Providing players with hints means they won’t fall into every trap you’ve laid for them. And that can be disappointing. As GMs, we work hard on our content, and we want our players to see as much of it as possible. But in that desire lies the root of agency-robbing behavior. And anyway, when players fall into traps despite having hints to warn them away from it, their cries of suffering are much more rewarding! >:D