Category: Rules Discussion

1d100 Magic Words – Creatures & Evil

If you’re new here, heads up that this post is in reference to my Magic Word system. Perhaps I ought to create a new category for all of these magic word posts. I’m producing quite the library on the subject.

Anyway, last time I wrote about Magic Words, I created a d100 list of words I felt were evocative enough to make good spells out of. But with only 100 places to fill, the list obviously only scratched the surface of gameable spell words. It’s a good start, but sticking with such a small list for any length of time is a disservice to the system. The whole point is to draw upon the whole of human language to create weird, personalized spells.

Ideally, I’d like to create an array of tables. Each with some different theme. You could then roll on a master table to determine which of the more detailed sub-tables you roll on. In the end I’ll have more words than a dozen Magic Users could learn in a lifetime! Maybe I’ll collect them in a PoD book. A magic dictionary or sorts.

Obviously you could just use a real dictionary, and it can work. But there are so many words that just don’t make interesting spells, and it starts to get old when you generate word after word that just doesn’t work. Look, I’ll pull 10 random words off Wiktionary: Hibernicism, Plethysmography, Aggrieved, Philippic, Stanchel, Pelleted, Animalism, Palestra, Verbarlokao, Quintile.

It might be fun to integrate a few such esoteric words into a spell list. But I think players would get fed up pretty quickly if those 10 words above were the first 10 words they got. The list needs to be curated somewhat, ergo my reduction of the entire animal kingdom down to about 100 of the more recognizable and evocative names.

Also, I recognize that if you’re not interested in the Magic Word system, the deluge of d100 word lists might put you off the site. So I’m going to combine two lists into each post, and I’m going to make sure that these lists aren’t posted back-to back. Hopefully that should prevent you from feeling like you’re drowning in lists of vaguely related words.

d100 Creature Names Animal spells are cool. Plus this could double as a d100 table of animals! Not sure why you’d need that, but if you do, here you go.

  1. Albatross
  2. Ant
  3. Antelope
  4. Ape
  5. Armadillo
  6. Baboon
  7. Badger
  8. Barracuda
  9. Bat
  10. Beetle
  11. Bear
  12. Beaver
  13. Bloodhound
  14. Boar
  15. Bull
  16. Butterfly
  17. Camel
  18. Cat
  19. Centipede
  20. Chameleon
  21. Cheetah
  22. Cockroach
  23. Coyote
  24. Crocodile
  25. Deer
  26. Dog
  27. Donkey
  28. Duck
  29. Eagle
  30. Elephant
  31. Elk
  32. Falcon
  33. Ferret
  34. Fish
  35. Fly
  36. Fox
  37. Frog
  38. Giraffe
  39. Goat
  40. Gorilla
  41. Grasshopper
  42. Hedgehog
  43. Hermit Crab
  44. Hawk
  45. Honey Bee
  46. Horse
  47. Hummingbird
  48. Hyena
  49. Iguana
  50. Jellyfish
  51. Jackal
  52. Kangaroo
  53. Lemur
  54. Lion
  55. Lobster
  56. Magpie
  57. Mole
  58. Mongoose
  59. Moose
  60. Monkey
  61. Mule
  62. Octopus
  63. Opossum
  64. Ostrich
  65. Otter
  66. Owl
  67. Ox
  68. Panther
  69. Pig
  70. Parrot
  71. Peacock
  72. Platypus
  73. Porcupine
  74. Rabbit
  75. Racoon
  76. Ram
  77. Rat
  78. Rattlesnake
  79. Rhinoceros
  80. Scorpion
  81. Shark
  82. Sheep
  83. Skunk
  84. Sloth
  85. Snake
  86. Sponge
  87. Spider
  88. Squid
  89. Squirrel
  90. Stingray
  91. Stork
  92. Seal
  93. Swan
  94. Tortoise
  95. Tiger
  96. Vulture
  97. Wasp
  98. Whale
  99. Wolf
  100. Yak

d100 Evil-ish words Because I have a natural inclination towards evil casters. Most of these could be used for non-evil spells I’m sure, they’re just evocatively evil in my mind.

  1. Abyss
  2. Ailment
  3. Addict
  4. Apocalypse
  5. Anger
  6. Bane
  7. Blight
  8. Chain
  9. Chaos
  10. Corrupt
  11. Cowardice
  12. Curse
  13. Cheat
  14. Crime
  15. Cult
  16. Cabal
  17. Damn
  18. Death
  19. Disembowel
  20. Doom
  21. Devil
  22. Demon
  23. Desecrate
  24. Decimate
  25. Disgust
  26. Evil
  27. Eviscerate
  28. Eldritch
  29. Envy
  30. Execute
  31. Fester
  32. Forbidden
  33. Feculent
  34. Fear
  35. Grief
  36. Greed
  37. Ghoul
  38. Grave
  39. Hate
  40. Hell
  41. Horror
  42. Harm
  43. Immoral
  44. Infernal
  45. Justify
  46. Judge
  47. Kill
  48. Lament
  49. Lie
  50. Leprous
  51. Lust
  52. Leech
  53. Lurk
  54. Lash
  55. Masochism
  56. Monster
  57. Nightmare
  58. Obstruct
  59. Offend
  60. Ooze
  61. Orphan
  62. Object
  63. Obsequious
  64. Pact
  65. Pain
  66. Plague
  67. Pride
  68. Quiet
  69. Ravage
  70. Rashness
  71. Rot
  72. Rupture
  73. Ruin
  74. Revenge
  75. Sadism
  76. Savage
  77. Seethe
  78. Shadow
  79. Summon
  80. Sinister
  81. Steal
  82. Sorrow
  83. Sin
  84. Sloth
  85. Slave
  86. Torture
  87. Torment
  88. Threaten
  89. Undead
  90. Violent
  91. Vampire
  92. Vile
  93. Vulgarity
  94. Vanity
  95. Wail
  96. Wither
  97. Wrack
  98. Wrath
  99. Zeal
  100. Zombie

Skills: Mastery Versus Uncertainty

Skills have been my buggaboo for nearly as long as I’ve been writing about RPGs. Every time I look at a skill system I see some new problems that I want to fix. I don’t know whether I’m working towards some platonic ideal, or if I’m just fickle. Either way I can’t help myself. There’s always something that can be done better.

For the last few years, most of the referees I play with and learn from have been using some variation on Skills: The Middle Road. If you’re unfamiliar, the breakdown is pretty simple. When you check a skill, a roll of 5 or greater indicates success. For untrained characters, each skill check is rolled with a d6. As a character advances in a given skill (either through class features or training), the die they’re allowed to roll increases from 1d6, to 1d8, to 1d10, and ultimately to 1d12. The elegance of the system has always appealed to me. As recently as last year I was planning to integrate it into my games, and a variation of the system was originally going to be described in my LotFP house rules. But then I sat down and did something I almost never do: math.

I love math, but I’m shockingly bad at it. It was never my strong suit to begin with, and being homeschooled from the 3rd grade up didn’t help. As such, obvious mathematical realities sometimes escape me. Using AnyDice, I tried to work out the functional difference between The Middle Road, and the way skills work in Rules-As-Written LotFP. (Skills start at a 1-in-6 chance of success, improving to 2-in-6, then 3-in-6, etc).

While The Middle Road gives players a higher success rate at lower levels, RAW LotFP quickly outpaces it. The very highest level of ability in Middle Road only gives a 7-in-12 chance of success, or 66.67%. In RAW LotFP, a character with a 6-in-6 skill rolls 2d6, and the check fails only in the event of double sixes. That’s a 35 in 36 chance of success, or 97.22%.

Now when I first figured this out, it convinced me that I wanted to stick with RAW LotFP. At the time, my reasoning was that players ought to be able to truly master a skill if they choose to devote themselves to it. After all, choosing to master a skill completely leaves other skills underdeveloped. There’s a natural balance there.

More recently, my thinking has changed. A system which allows total mastery of a skill is a system which allows certain challenges to become completely trivialized. If the players can always unlock a locked door, why even place locked doors at all? As a means of justifying the player’s investment? Even players seem unenthusiastic about rolling dice when they feel certain of success. And in the rare events that they fail one of these nearly-certain rolls, they seem more upset by it than usual. As if the dice just told them they’d failed a “walking” check.

When failure doesn’t seem like a possibility, it’s a lot more frustrating when it happens. It might be better to allow players to reach a level of mastery that no longer called for a roll at all. One where locked doors simply no longer existed for a master locksmith. It’s not the sort of system I want, but I think it would be better than a 2.78% chance of failure.

It could be argued that if players have reached such a high level of mastery, they ought to be adventuring in areas with locks that require checks made at -1 or -2. This is a possibility described in the LotFP rules, and is entirely legitimate. But I don’t like it.

Part of the reason oldschool skill systems appeal to me is the lack of any need for the referee to determine the difficulty of a task. Getting rid of Difficulty Checks was one of the best things about quitting Pathfinder. DCs are the fuckin’ worst. They add a ton of boring, yet necessary preparatory work to the referee’s job. They encourage the referee to reduce player agency by saying “Well, this door allows the players to skip half the dungeon. So it’ll have a REALLY high DC.” Furthermore, when a DC has to be improvised, it’s difficult to choose a good DC off the top of your head. And finally, if the referee is placing ever-increasing DCs in the game, at the same pace that the player’s ability to surpass those DCs is growing, then why have any advancement at all?

If I place a lock that requires a check at -2 in my adventure because of the fact that my players are really good at opening locks, then why did I allow them to waste skill points that I was just going to invalidate through future dungeon design?

The Middle Road has none of these problems. Furthermore, it has two great benefits.

First, it enables the referee to include weirder skills in the game. Consider the problem of the Law skill that I mentioned when I drafted the Lawyer class a few months ago. I think the law skill is super neat and fun, but it’s also powerful. If a player were able to master it, they’d be unstoppable. But so long as they still have a decent chance to fail any given check, they won’t be able to push their luck too far.

Second, and more importantly, it preserves the low level experience. It’s almost universally agreed, at least within the OSR, that low level play is the best play. The most challenging, the most engaging, the most fun. People prefer low level play so much that many campaigns (much to my frustration) are terminated just as the PCs start to reach mid levels.

The reason low level play is so treasured is that the game fundamentally changes as it goes on.  As PCs reach higher levels, more and more challenges become trivial for them. They don’t need to worry about torches once the magic user learns Light, they don’t need to worry about rations once the cleric learns Create Food and Water, and they don’t need to worry about locked doors once the thief has an almost certain chance of opening them easily.

Keeping skill checks uncertain, even at the highest levels of mastery, maintains that low level play that we all enjoy.

And as an aside, Skills: The Middle Road could easily be expanded using a d14 and d16. Not all Zocchi dice are reliably random, but those two are. I’d love to see them come into more common usage, since they so nicely fill in a lot of the gap between the d12 and the d20. And even with a d16, a player would only have a 75% chance of hitting 5 or higher. Which is still a respectable failure rate.

Crafting as Jury Rigged Equipment

Guys, guys guys, I’ve got an idea.

Crafting is cool, otherwise it wouldn’t be as persistent in gaming as it is. But cool as it is in theory, pretty much every implementation of it that I’ve ever encountered sucks. It seems like all of them are either an overpowered, overcomplicated mess, or they’re bland. This has literally been bothering me for almost 4 years now,  and my attempts to solve the problem represent some of the most rigorous game design I’ve attempted. But despite my best efforts, I’ve been stymied as to how to make crafting work in a way I could be happy with.

But this might be kind cool:

Crafting is a skill, with advancement, and success/failure determined like any other skill. A player who wishes to use the craft skill must first determine the type of crafting they are trained in. Options include (but are not limited to): Blacksmith, Leatherworker, Clothier, Painter, Sculptor, Glassblower, Cook, Silver/Goldsmith, Carpenter, Stonemason, Toolmaker.

Characters who intend to use their skill should also add some amount of nondescript “raw materials” to their equipment list. Raw materials take up as much or as little encumbrance as the player wishes. The more they have on hand, the more use they will be able to get out of the skill. Materials should also cost some amount of money. Perhaps 100sp per point of encumbrance.

Whenever the player wants, they can declare that they’re attempting to create some item that falls within the purview of their chosen craft.  The referee then tells them how much encumbrance that item would take to carry. If they have an equal amount of raw materials, then they can make a skill check to attempt to craft the item they described. Succeed or fail, the attempt takes 3 turns, and the raw materials are used up.

Essentially, the craft skill becomes a sort of equipment “wildcard.” Lets say your profession is glassblower. You don’t need to bring a magnifying glass, and a lens, and a mirror, and a jar into the dungeon. You can just take a lump of raw materials, and create whatever you end up needing whenever you realize that you need it.

Obviously this system is an abstraction. Something perhaps better suited to a board or video game. On the other hand, the really neat thing about the system is the tactical infinity of it. Something that can really only exist in a TRPG.

If a character turning a lump of steel into a dagger without a forge or an anvil to work with bothers you, I totes get it. It kinda bothers me too. But consider: if the character DID have a forge and an anvil, that probably means they’re safe in town. And towns have shops, where daggers can easily be bought.

I’d still like to see a crafting system that works the way I’ve always imagined. Something that allows players to express their creativity, and provides real benefits without requiring an encyclopedia of rules. Maybe it’s about time I took another crack at writing a system like that. But as an option, this “Equipment Wildcard” system intrigues me.

1d100 Magic Words – General

The Magic Word system is my attempt to replace the Magic User spell list with quick-and-easy spell creation. I like the idea of a world where most spells are unique to each Magician. As I mentioned in my previous post on the subject, I’m playtesting the idea in my current game, and it’s going really well! The group’s MU is enjoying the process of discovering new words, and coming up with unique ways to combine them. I am enjoying writing new spells, and the additional texture the system adds to my game world. Even the non-MU party members seem to be enjoying the odd sorts of magic created by the system.

The one hiccup I have been running into is quickly generating new words on the fly. I’ve tried a few different random word generators on the Internet, but there are just too many ungameable words to make those options feasible. What I need is a curated table of words to roll on. So I figured I’d just write up a d100 table of evocative words. I’ll probably do a new one of these every few months until I’ve got enough for a d1000 table.

This first list, I grant, is a little generic. I feel like it would be a mistake to leave out words like “fire” and “ice” in the base list. Later lists will doubtless be more oddball than this one. Perhaps after this each list will be themed? Like “100 evil words,” or “100 seemingly useless words?” That would be cool.

Two notes. First, remember that words encompass all of their various permutations. So discovering the magic word “Fire” means you can craft spells with words like “Firey,” “Fired,” “Fire’s” or “Firing” in their name.

Second, regarding the 10 “name” entries at the end. D&D has a long tradition of big-name casters like Tenser who live on through the spells that bear their name. I like this idea! So in the Magic Word system, using a specific wizard’s name as part of the spell you’re crafting means that what you’re actually doing is uncovering a spell first created by some long dead master of the arcane arts. And when the referee is writing up the spell, they can draw on that caster’s history and talent when determining the spell’s effects. In order that the players can reasonably have knowledge of the casters whose spells they are discovering, I’ve chosen to use mostly real-world historical figures. This more or less works in my current game, as it takes place in the distant future of our real world. Your milage may vary on that. I demonstrated how I intend for this to work in the “More Magic Words in Action” post.

  1. Shark
  2. Rabbit
  3. Bear
  4. Eagle
  5. Ape
  6. Serpent
  7. Frog
  8. Sight
  9. Smell
  10. Feel
  11. Taste
  12. Hear
  13. Balance
  14. Eye
  15. Brain
  16. Bone
  17. Blood
  18. Hand
  19. Hard
  20. Soft
  21. Send
  22. Return
  23. Open
  24. Close
  25. Truth
  26. Falsehood
  27. Riot
  28. Soothe
  29. Tiny
  30. Titanic
  31. Day
  32. Night
  33. Love
  34. Hate
  35. Peace
  36. War
  37. Acid
  38. Water
  39. Ice
  40. Electricity
  41. Fire
  42. Poison
  43. Gravity
  44. Nature
  45. Gas
  46. Beam
  47. Lash
  48. Absorb
  49. Invest
  50. Core
  51. Free
  52. Death
  53. Corpse
  54. Shatter
  55. Crush
  56. Laugh
  57. Fear
  58. Vile
  59. Screech
  60. Chain
  61. Wood
  62. Steel
  63. Soil
  64. Stone
  65. Shield
  66. Pierce
  67. Choke
  68. Alter
  69. Animate
  70. Move
  71. Play
  72. Share
  73. Know
  74. Distant
  75. Sigil
  76. Swift
  77. Wall
  78. Child
  79. Path
  80. Cancel
  81. Body
  82. Realm
  83. Ring
  84. Flight
  85. Weird
  86. Machine
  87. Code
  88. Reveal
  89. Secret
  90. Name: Lovelace
  91. Name: Moses
  92. Name: Robespierre
  93. Name: Washington
  94. Name: Zalekios (Unique to my game. You can use Cleopatra)
  95. Name: Socrates
  96. Name: Augustus
  97. Name: Napoleon
  98. Name: Shakespeare
  99. Name: Caesar
  100. Name: Hitler

Figuratively +X Swords

Last week I wrote a bunch of alternatives to +1 swords. I did this because I believe that +1 swords are lame. Not only are they uninspired, but they damage the fabric of the game by unnecessarily inflating numbers, and creating standard magic items that players learn to expect. But then someone had the sheer unmitigated gall to agree with me.

So now, of course, I have to prove them (and by extension, myself) wrong by creating the greatest list of +X swords the world has ever seen.

Map Plus “X” A rapier of simple and sturdy make. The blade appears to be entirely indistinct, and yet the point always leaves an “X” mark on anything it punctures. If the wielder takes a map, closes their eyes, and stabs at the map with this weapon, the “X” will mark the location of some valuables.

Which valuables are marked is entirely at the discretion of the referee. They may be of high or low value, they may be free for the taking or guarded by horrible monsters. They may even be in a location within the bounds of the map, but not actually depicted by any cartography. In the margins, for example.

Attempting to use the rapier twice on the same map will result in the map being torn to shreds, rendering it completely useless.

Wielder Plus “X” During downtime, the wielder must meditate with their sword; sitting still in nature and studying the movements of insects. They must acknowledge the superiority of the insectile form, and strive to find the insect within themselves.

At the end of a game session, the wielder may add an “X” to the name they most identify with. This is the name they introduce themselves as, or the one they use to refer to themselves. They cannot extend this process by bringing in last names or middle names that they rarely use. This is about integrating the glory of insect kind within your own identity, not cynically grasping for ever increasing power. The sword will punish those who use its gifts so callously with horrible deformities.

The wielder must be able to pronounce their new name to the referees satisfaction; and they must always pronounce their name that way forever afterwords. Failure to do so results in the aforementioned horrible deformities.

When play resumes next session, the referee will reveal to the sword’s what new insectile feature their devotion has granted them. The nature of these evolutions, and the benefits they grant, are entirely up to the referee. Some suggestions that are in no way compulsory would be:

  • Wings
  • The ability to explode their body, harming anyone nearby.
  • A stinger.
  • A stinger which kills you when you use it.
  • A venomous bite.
  • A life which ends abruptly the first time you mate.
  • A hardened carapace
  • The ability to lift many times your body weight
  • The ability to climb sheer surfaces.

Plu Sex Sword: Once per day, the wielder may summon Plu. Plu is a horrid boor, and and Plu is horny. Plu has no distinct gender; nor any distinct sexual preferences. Plu just wants to fuck any intelligent creature that will let Plu at em’. None but the most deranged sexual deviants would accept Plu’s offer. Most would sooner vomit than allow the stubby, stinky, lard-beast that is Plu anywhere near their naked bodies.

The wielder has no control over Plu, they merely bring Plu into the world. Plu is a quick way to end any social gathering, or to disgust any decent folk.

Plus X-Beam The wielder of this sword may engage in a minute long ritual in which they slowly wave their blade through the air in a large “X” shape. Doing so summons a pair of well-fortified wooden cross beams. The beams will fill whatever space they’re summoned in up to 15′ by 15′, bracing against the floor and ceiling. In larger spaces the full sized beams appear, but are not braced against anything.

The wielder may do this as many times as they like, but only 5 beams may be in existence at any one time. Summoning a 6th causes the 1st one summoned to disappear. (And so on when summoning a 7th, 8th, etcetera).

Plus Your Ex A Claymore with a thick lens mounted at the center of the crossguard. Once per day, by looking through this lens, the wielder can attempt to deceive themselves with its illusory magic. If they succeed on a saving throw versus Magic, then the foe they look at through the lens will take on the appearance of the wielder’s ex for the rest of the day.

Not a good ex. One that broke the wielder’s fuckin’ heart, ground it into hamburger with malice aforethought. All attacks made against this foe roll double the normal amount of damage dice.

Plus eXtreme! A Zweihander of unnaturally bright colors: a stark white cross guard with hot pink wrapping, and a deep red blade. Once per day the wielder may hold the blade aloft and a beam of light will lance down from the clouds, obscuring all but the wielder’s silhouette. When they step out of this light they will be transformed, and will remain so for 1 turn.

The wielder’s muscles are now massive. Even muscles that do not normally exist bulge as though they’re trying to escape from the wielder’s own skin. This doubles the wielder’s strength score, and allows them to grapple as though they were four levels higher than they are, and to wield the Zweihander in a single hand.

Furthermore, the wielder’s clothes are now covered in pouches. From these they can remove any mundane, non-specific item that is small enough to be held in one hand by a non-transformed character.

If at any time the player of the transformed character smiles, laughs, or shows any sign of an emotion other than melancholy, anger, or rage; the transformation ends.

+ X to Y Sword When this weapon is first acquired, roll the smallest die already on the table that is large enough to include the wielder’s level. (If the wielder is levels 5 or 6, roll 1d6, if they’re levels 7 or 8, roll 1d8, etc.) The die’s result is the numerical bonus which the sword grants.

Next, roll 2d6 on the table below to determine what action that bonus applies to. This bonus remains unchanged until the wielder fails a roll while attempting the task they’re receiving a bonus for. When that happens, both the bonus and what the bonus applies to are re-rolled.

The bonus can never be used to make a roll a sure-thing. If it would, then the referee rules on what the failure conditions would be. They may opt to simply reduce the bonus granted, rule that a 1 is always a failure, etc. Similarly, if the thing you receive a bonus for is not normally rolled in your game, then for you it is rolled, until you fail at it.

2. Making handcrafted ceramic animals.
3. Gambling
4. Having a conversation without punching the other person in the face.
5. Seduction
6. Dancing
7. Attack Rolls
8. Caligraphy
9. Waking up on time.
10. Fishing
11. Painting
12. Writing Poetry

Jumping on a 2-Year Old Bandwagon: Replacing +1 Swords

In 2014 it was fashionable to post evocative alternatives to +1 swords. Gus did it. Courtney did it. Arnold did it. Errybody did it. I wasn’t blogging much at the time, but I really enjoyed reading those. I miss reading them. So I’m gonna write one.

The Mugger’s Choice:  On a natural 20, the wound dealt to the target becomes a geyser of money! 1d100 coins spray across the room, making a terrible racket. Literal blood money!

Sword of Justification: If used to slay a human or human-like creature, the Sword of Justification will cause the corpse to undergo a gruesome metamorphosis. It will contort itself into monstrous shapes, growing horns or fur, oozing black blood, and reeking of sulfur and brimstone. The specific shape will vary, but no one looking at the result will imagine it was anything but an evil creature.

Immovable Sword – There’s a switch on the hilt which locks the swords position relative to its environment. It’ll stay floating in mid air if you tell it to. Like an immovable rod, but a sword. Useful for setting impromptu traps.

Self Preservation Sword – Anytime a save v. breath is required, both wielder and sword attempt the save. (Sword saves as a 1st level fighter.) If the sword saves and the wielder do not, the wielder can make a strength check to hold on to the sword. If they succeed, the sword pulls them along with it and effectively makes their save for them. If they fail, their sword flies out of their hands.

Chewing Sword: Each miss with this sword deals 1 notch of damage to the opponent’s weapon. Standard weapons can take 6 notches before they break and become useless. Does not work against unarmed characters, or characters using natural weapons.

The No-Blade: A hilt without any blade. When the crossbar of the hilt is tapped against a material, a blade of that material grows from the hilt, and lasts for 10 minutes. All blade materials are functional, but most have quirks. Dirt blades deal 1d4 damage and only work for one hit, stone blades deal 1d6 but break on a 1, wood blades can be lit on fire to deal +1d6 damage for 3 rounds until they’ve been burned to the point of uselessness, metal blades work normally. Be creative. What do blades of grass, bone, crystal, clay, or flesh do?

Binding Blade: On a successful attack the wielder may choose for the sword to become a pair of manacles binding the humanoid target instead of dealing damage. Target may save v. magic to avoid. On a successful save, the sword does not transform, and the wielder may continue using it.

Spelltning Swo-Rod: Comes with a special lead-lined scabbard. If this weapon is drawn, then the wielder becomes the target of any spell cast within their general vicinity. Every “Cure Light Wounds” and “Fireball” will be centered on the person holding the Spelltning Swo-Rod, even if they are technically out of the spell’s range. Note that casters may not immediately catch on to this fact. The cleric may notice that their healing spell didn’t work, but they won’t instinctively know that someone else nearby was healed.

Charming Sword: On a successful hit, instead of dealing damage, the player may opt to make a new reaction roll. If the result is better than neutral, the enemy will be willing to forgive and forget the battle up to this point. If the party then resumes hostilities, their foe gains a +2 to all attack rolls due to their outrage at the bad manners of the party.

The Sword of Second Chances: The blade of this sword is the shaved finger bone of a titan, with sharp bits of steel inlaid around the edge. When it cuts an intelligent living creature, noises come from within the wounds. There’s someone behind them. They might speak, voicing their confusion over what is happening.

If the Sword of Second Chances delivers the killing blow, then the newly dead corpse will shortly be torn apart. A person will emerge, like a chicken from an egg. Within the last 25 years of your campaign world, this person died an unnatural death within 100 miles of the wielder’s current location. Whether or not they deserved it may not be immediately apparent. They’ve been stuck in the afterlife for who knows how long, and now they’ve got a second chance. Perhaps they’ll run off to find their family, perhaps they’ll join the party out of gratitude, or perhaps the players just resurrected a serial killer. Who really knows?

The Wall-Slidy Sword: When the blade is touched to a wall, the character can slide down it at a rate of 20′ per round, allowing them to reach a safe landing below. Using the sword in this capacity causes a shower of sparks to illuminate the character’s descent, and elicits screeching sound that’ll make the rest of the party want to act passive aggressively towards the wielder for a few turns. Also it may mimic the mating squawk of the Biting Leatherhorn. So watch out for those.

The Reflection Holding Blade: A wide blade polished to a mirror sheen. By use of a command word, the reflection on the blade can be frozen, causing whatever image is currently being reflected to remain visible on the blade until the reverse command word is uttered. Will eventually be made obsolete by camera phones.

The Useless Sword: Damage dealt with this weapon only lasts 24 hours. After that, wounds will slowly knit themselves back together, even to the point of reversing death or decapitation. Note that it is only wounds dealt with this particular weapon that are reversed, So if the corpse is burned after being killed with the Useless Sword, it’s not gonna un-burn itself.

The Blage of Empires: If two turns (20 minutes) are spent striking at a piece of stone, that stone will catch on fire and burn like wood. This fire can spread to other stones of similar composition, but it will not spread to wood or other typically flammable material. Nor will it spread to different types of stone. The Blage of Empires is never dulled or broken by striking at stone.

The Sword which is Not Yours – The wielder may summon a 7th level fighter in gleaming armor, who will appear from around the nearest corner or through the nearest doorway. When the fighter sees her “squire” in danger, she will hold out her hand and call for the PC to give her her sword. Once she has it, she will join the fray with wild abandon. When the danger is passed, she will thank her squire for caring for her weapon, and depart with the sword.

The Sword of Weeping Mothers: Though it appears normal, out of the corner of your eye this sword sometimes appears to, for lack of a better word, “pulse.” Any time this blade deals damage, eyes look out from the wound it opens. They appear bloodshot, and afraid. If anyone with one of these wounds drops to 4 hit points or less, the eyes bulge, trying to press out of the body, and dealing 1d3 damage. If this damage kills the target, a dozen screaming shadows rocket into the distance and fade into nothingness. Something bad happens in the nearest community. The referee is encouraged to be creative, but to be clear, we’re talking “pile of dead children” levels of bad. Whether or not the players ever know about it, it does happen.

Bit of a tone shift from the rest of these, I know.

Yet More Magic Words

I gotta stay in practice, yo. If you’re unfamiliar with what’s happening here you can read the original system proposition. I also wrote not one, but two previous magic word lists similar to this one. Also, it’s relevant that I’ve actually been playtesting this idea in my current campaign. It’s going really well, and at present it seems likely that this will become a permanent fixture of my gaming. Most successful house rule I’ve ever written.

Tomorrow

Four

Wild

Tree

Slash

———————–

Fourth Tomorrow

A spell that can be cast instantaneously, without any of the normal gestures or verbalization which would normally reveal spellcasting to foes. The caster disappears into a state of non-existence which lasts four days. 96 hours later they will reappear exactly where they were when the spell was cast. To them it will seem as though only an instant has passed.

If the space they would reappear in is already occupied, the spell jerks them towards the nearest unoccupied space. The caster takes 1d6 damage for every 5′ they have to be dragged.

Wild Tomorrow

A ritual spell used to create a circle 15’ in diameter. A map is placed in the center of the circle with a drop of blood on the caster’s desired destination. Anyone who sleeps within this circle will enter a shared dream for 8 hours. There they will be tested together by a mysterious being called The Blue Coachman. The test will usually take the form of a maze which they must reach the center of before the 8 hours are up. There is no penalty for dying within the dream, though you will spend the rest of the dream in a black void, and wake up with a headache. When the dream ends, the characters awake.

If they were successful, they will appear in a convenient location at the planned destination. If they were not, The Blue Coachman will leave them wherever he finds the most amusing. Perhaps in the middle of a desert, or on a solitary island. He might still take you where you wanted to go, but will place you in the most inconvenient spot he can find. Perhaps right into chains in the dungeon beneath your foe’s castle, or in a deep gorge that is about to be flooded.

Tomorrow Tree

A spell which causes a tree to grow to its full maturity in a single night, even if it is only a recently planted seed in the ground. This growth happens along the natural course the tree would have taken, assuming it received ample sunlight, water, and fertilizer. It will typically grow around barriers, rather than pushing through them.

The caster must sleep for 8 hours during the night for the tree to grow. But other characters can remain awake to watch the tree, and may attempt to guide its growth through pruning and bending if they wish.

Tomorrow Slash

A subtle spell. It may be cast quietly in private, and is activated in one of two ways. Either the caster must touch the target’s clothing, or they must momentarily draw their target’s attention to themselves.

20 + 1d6 hours later, the target takes 2d8 damage. Save versus Magic for half. The spell leaves a dagger wound on the body.

The Wild Four

Summons four revelers. They appear from around the nearest corner and jubilantly approach the caster. They cheer the caster’s name, they dance, and they drink. They always seem to have whatever celebratory accouterments they need, though they’re unable to give any of it to anyone else. (For example, they’ve always got a beer in their hand, but if asked to give you one, they can’t do so unless there is real beer nearby).

People who see the revelers will be enticed to join in the party. No save is required, but unless they have some reason not to party (such as being on guard duty), they’ll probably join in for at least an hour or so.

The wild four will continue to party until the caster is so exhausted that he falls into an 8 hour sleep. They will then dance off into the night, and disappear once they’re out of everyone’s hearing.

Four Trees

A one hour ritual spell which causes an apple tree to grow 10’ to the north of the caster, a fig tree to grow 10’ to the east, a pineapple tree to grow 10’ to the south, and a cherry tree to grow 10’ to the west. The trees will reach full bloom at the end of 1 hour, with ample fruit, regardless of environment. They will persist in this state for as long as the caster concentrates, producing new fruit every hour. Once the caster stops concentrating, the trees will become subject to whatever environmental and climate conditions they are in, and either flourish or decay in real time.

Four Slash

A touch-range spell that can be cast on any friendly target. On the target’s next turn, they can make 4 separate melee attacks. They can move up to 10′ between the attacks, and these 10′ steps do not count as part of the caster’s movement.

This spell is unique in that it has only a 2-in-6 chance of failure if cast within an anti-magic field.

Wild Tree

In an instant, a target tree that is touched by the caster grows to twice its current size. The caster may direct the trees growth, causing it to form a bridge, or a barrier, or to crash through a nearby structure. The cater cannot direct the tree to grow in a way that will cause it to come crashing down under its own weight. 

Wild Slash

A single target within the caster’s line of sight must save versus Magic or be cursed. In any round where the victim of the curse makes a melee attack, their armor class is reduced by 1d6 for that round.

Tree Slash

When cast on a tree, that tree will sense vibrations in the earth using its roots. Anyone who approaches within 15′ of the tree will be attacked by swinging branches. They must save versus Breath or be struck for 1d6 damage each round.

The tree is indiscriminate in who it targets. Not even the caster is safe.

The Moral of the Story, a subsystem proposal for Masters of Carcosa

Ramanan Sivaranjan of Save vs. Total Party Kill runs a game called Masters of Carcosa, and I play in it. As you might guess from the name of the game, it uses the Carcosa setting. With a lot of emphasis on the He-Man elements of that game world, rather than the meat grinder elements. It has so far been a pretty fun game to play in.

After yesterday’s game session, we got to talking about He Man, and how every episode ended with a shoehorned “moral of the story,” which really only existed to dissuade parents from writing angry letters about what a terrible influence the show was on children. Ram decided it would be fun if he started appending a moral to the end of each play report. I’d like to suggest an alternative to him, inspired by Arnold K‘s Poet class.

See, in this particular game, the party is a troupe of traveling actors called The Rainbow Connection. And we’ve decided our goal is to try and forge some kind of civilization in the wastelands of Carcosa.

So, anytime the party ends their adventure in a town, they can put on a show about their most recent adventure. The show ends with a moral derived from the subject material. Morals should flow naturally from the story, and should be general in nature. A moral can’t be “give all your money to The Rainbow Connection.” But it could be “Give your money to people stronger than you.” All morals are subject to the approval of the referee.

Each new moral is added to “The Code of Carcosa.” Players are  responsible for tracking the contents of the code. If the players forget to write down one of their morals, then it doesn’t exist. The Code of Carcosa will form the basis for civilized culture and morality in Carcosa.

Anytime a settlement is acting contrary to the code, the players may point this out to the settlement. They then roll a 1d10, aiming to roll under or equal to the settlement’s civilization score. On a success, the settlement is embarrassed about their uncivilized behavior.

The base civilization score for a settlement is 0. Each time a show with a moral at the end of it is performed in the settlement, that settlement gains 1 civilization point. This seems to me like a pretty good rate of adaptation. The fastest possible amount of time it would take to fully civilize a new settlement is 10 sessions.

Of course, this is still Carcosa. The Code of Carcosa is open to interpretation. Settlements will only feel bound to obey the letter of the law. Not its spirit. A sloppily composed moral like “Don’t kill people just because they’re a different color than you” might lead to claims that “We’re not killing the Jale men because they’re Jale. We’re killing them because they engage in despicable Jale culture.”

An interesting way of creating characters above first level.

Generally I don’t like making characters above first level. There’s really no reason a 1st level character can’t play alongside higher level characters and feel useful. Particularly in OSR style games, where power levels don’t range quite as wildly as they do in other games.

That said, when the whole party is level 6+ and I die, I sometimes get grumpy about needing to start back at level 1. And today in the shower I came up with a neat option.

The referee sets a limit for how high the character can level using this system. A good limit would either be one level lower than the level of the player’s recently deceased character, or the average level of the party as a whole. The character levels up one at a time until they either reach this limit, or decide to stop wherever they are and introduce their new character at the level they stopped at.

Each time the character levels up, they roll 1d20 against 10 + their new level. (So leveling from 1 to 2 would require a roll against 12. Leveling from 2 to 3 would require a roll against 13. And so on.)

Pass or fail, the character levels up either way. But if they roll above the target, then they get to roll 2d6 on the boon table. If they roll below the target, then they have to roll 2d6 on the mishap table.

Boons

2. The character has made some excellent investments in shipping ventures! They gain gold equal to 200% of the XP that would normally be required to reach their new level from their previous one.

3. The character has been afflicted by some beneficial mutation. I recommend rolling on The Metamorphica, and re rolling anything that player seems too upset about. Alternatively, the referee could just fiat something cool. An extra arm that can hold a second shield, a fungus growing in the character’s stomach that means they almost never have to eat, a 3′ prehensile dick that can spit acid for 1d6 damage. That sort of thing.

4. The character has carefully saved their money. They gain gold equal to 100% of the XP normally required to reach their new level from their previous one.

5. The character has somehow acquired some official title or authority for themselves. It ought to be appropriate for the level it was rolled for. A lower level character may have earned a commission as captain of the duke’s guard, with some authority that can be exercised within the duke’s territory. A higher level character may have simply earned the title of duke.

6. The character saved somebody’s life. They’re more interesting than a simple peasant, but they’re really not that important in the grand scheme. Maybe a city guard, or a village priest or something. They consider the character a very good friend, and may even have decided to join the character as a hireling.  If not, then their home will always be open to the character to crash in. They’ll happily offer interest free loans, and gifts on special occasions.

7. The character has been wise with their money. They gain gold equal to 25% of the XP required to reach your current level from the previous one.

8. The character managed to save up enough cash to purchase some expensive piece of commonly available adventuring equipment. This is probably a suit of plate armor, or perhaps a faithful steed. The player might have bought a small shack or cottage somewhere.

9. Through rigorous time taken off to train, the character has improved themselves. Roll 1d6 to randomly select an ability score. The character gains +1 in that ability.

10.  By hook or by crook, the character managed to convince someone big and important that they’re a pretty neat dude. Some character, like a general, a wizard, a duke, or a wealthy merchant will treat you well and be disposed to you over others. They won’t load you up with cash. Think about the best friend you’ve ever had in the workplace, but never really made that leap into hanging out with outside of work.

11. The character has managed to get their hands on a minor magic item. The referee will need to figure out what is appropriate for their campaign. I’m thinking a healing potion in a game where healing potions aren’t for sale. Or maybe a hat that gives you +2 to lying, or something.

12. The character managed to get their hands on a magic item of top notch coolness. The referee will need to figure out what is appropriate for their campaign.  I’m thinking a sword that summons lightning bolts on a natural 20, or gloves that allow you to cast Charm Person on anyone you shake the hand of.

Mishaps

2.  One of the chartacter’s hands was crushed into a pulp and had to be amputated. Randomly determine which.

3. A cannonball or ballista tore through one of the character’s legs, removing it just below the knee. Randomly determine which.

4. The character was stricken by a horrific disease which brought them to the very brink of death. They recovered, but were forever weakened. Roll 1d6 to determine a random ability score. Reduce that score by 1d4.

5. The character has been afflicted by some horrible mutation. I recommend using The Metamorphica, and rerolling anything the player looks too happy about. Otherwise the referee can simply fiat something icky: a craterous formation that oozes pungent mucus, a blind eye stalk growing from the character’s ear, a second mouth that lisps insults at everyone the character meets. Stuff like that.

6. Some minor villain has declared a blood oath of vengeance against the character. Whether a petty thief, or proud warrior, or a single monster with a taste for the character’s particular flavor of flesh, this foe will hunt the character and attack them until one or the other is dead.

7. After a bad night of gambling, the character accrued a debt. The debt is equal to 25% of the XP normally required to reach the character’s new level from the previous one.

8.  The player suffered a period of extreme hardship. Either stuck out in the elements, trapped without food or water, or tortured by a sadistic foe. Regardless, they’ve never been quite the same. Roll 1d6 to randomly determine an ability score. That score is reduced by 1.

9. Deserved or not, the character has made themselves a dangerous enemy. A character with significant resources (a wizard, a baron, a wealthy merchant) has decided that they cannot sleep soundly until the character is dead.

10. After a really bad night of gambling, the character has accrued a significant debt to some dangerous people. The debt is equal to 100% of the XP normally required to reach the character’s newest level from the previous one.

11. A stray sword struck the character’s hand in battle, chopping off a finger. There is no necessary mechanical penalty for this.

12. Whatever the character has endured, the scars cannot be hidden. They criss-cross his body, deeply discolored. Chunks of meat are noticeably missing. There’s splotchy bubbling, and perhaps even puss. The character suffers a -1 to charisma in any situation where they want to appear friendly or attractive. But a +1 to charisma in any situation where they want their martial prowess taken seriously.

In retrospect this is kind of a ripoff of Traveller. But meh. At least you can’t die. =P

Spending Money 2: Armor

I want players to have the option of spending money to increase their adventuring effectiveness. The most obvious way to do that is letting them purchase more and better equipment. Something tangible. A tool with an obvious benefit. It’s the road oft-travelled, and it’s no doubt what players would like to spend their money on, so it seems like a good place to start. And in the basic rules, the only piece of equipment a character might need to buy after burning through their starting cash is plate armor. Granted, they’ll likely make that purchase before they even hit level 2, but it’s the only purchasable equipment progression that exists in the game RAW, so yeah. Lets talk about armor.

One great possibility is to expand the system backwards. Why should the best AC in the game be achievable before level 2? There’s tons of room for interesting progress before that point. A lot of people have written piecemeal armor systems that could serve to engage players for 2-3 levels before they finally get to that glorious 18 AC. The equipment players buy at the start of play could be deficient, with penalties, and a chance to break. There’s an opportunity here to make players feel just how low down and dirty they are as first level adventurers. To make them scratch and claw their way to being competently equipped before we even start talking about how the baseline equipment could be better than it is.

I say we drop the starting money altogether. Players can roll on a murderhobo equipment table and embark on their first adventure wearing an empty barrel around their body as armor, and fighting with a broken bottle tied to the end of a stick.

But for now I want to focus on how armor can continue to be something players spend money on after they’ve already reached the baseline of AC18 plate armor. The goal should be to provide players with a limited set of interesting choices. These choices should be individually achievable, but unlikely to be fully attainable by any but high level characters. A level 2 fighters should be able to look forward to upgrading her armor every 1 or 2 sessions, but it’ll be a long hard road to getting her dream armor. She shouldn’t feel as though she’s not making any progress, but she should have something to strive for.

Armor Modifications

Improvements made to an existing suit of armor. With enough money, every modification could exist on a single suit of armor. However, the more mods there are, the more complicated it is to add a new mod without futzing up the previous mods. As such, mods have a cumulative cost. The first costs 50% of the base armor’s total cost, the second costs 100%, the third costs 150%, etcetera.*

Perfectly Fitted: All plate armor needs to be fitted to its owner. But the slapdash job done by most village blacksmiths is nothing compared to what a skilled artisan can accomplish. Perfectly fitted plate armor requires 1 less encumbrance than normal.

Carrying Frame: A structure of additional supports is built into the armor, distributing weight more evenly across the body and allowing the wearer to carry 6 encumbering items for every encumbrance point, rather than the standard 5.

Ornamented: The surface of the armor is decorated with fanciful patterns that communicate something about the wearer to those who encounter them before a single word is spoken. Ornamented armor affects reaction rolls. Only one type of ornamentation can be present on a given suit of armor.

  • Fearsome: Your ornamentation is filled with scenes of battle. It proclaims that you are a foe to be reckoned with. Characters with a level lower than yours are impressed and your reaction improves by 1. Those who are higher level than you see your display as petulant, and your reaction decreases by 1.
  • Ostentatious: Your ornamentation focuses on your wealth. Gold and gems may be included in the ornamentation. Reaction improves by 1 with any characters who are part of a culture where wealth is a sign of status and power. (ie. human society, generally). Reaction is decreased by 1 with bandits, revolutionaries, or anyone from a society where strength dictates status.
  • Religious: You openly display your devotion to your particular religion on your armor. Reaction with adherents of said religion is improved by 2. Reaction with foes of your religion is decreased by 2. Many creatures will be unaffected.

Barbed: A series of sharp spikes across the armor, strategically placed so as not to interfere with the character’s movement or peaceful activities, but which make it very difficult for an attacker to grab hold of the character. Characters wearing barbed armor are treated as 1 hit dice higher than normal when attempting to resist an enemy grapple.

Silvered: A latticework of silver is inlaid across the armor’s surface. While worn, the armor offers a +2 to any saves made against the powers of undead creatures, such as level drain. If no save is normally allowed, then the character is instead allowed a Save v. Magic at a -2 penalty to resist the effect.

Superbly Padded: Extremely comfortable, without being oppressive. The wearer can sleep while wearing their armor for up to 3 nights in a row without taking any penalties.

Buoyant: Through mind-boggling engineering that I lack the ability to come up with, it is possible to swim while wearing this armor as though the character were wearing no armor at all.

*Does anyone better at math than I am want to take a crack at a better price structure?

Armor Materials

Here we come perhaps uncomfortably close to outright selling magic items. Whether you include this will depend entirely on the highness or lowness of the fantasy in your games.

Steel is an excellent metal. It’s light, it’s tough, and most importantly it’s plentiful. But if your coffers are deep enough to afford a metal that isn’t plentiful, then there are better options. These fictional metals have special properties when shaped into armor. These are completely natural physical effects, which may seem magical only due to the extreme rarity of the substance.

Only a single rare metal may be used in the construction of a set of armor. Alloys are theoretically possible, but not financially feasible.

Feathersteel: An incredibly lightweight metal. Armor made from it is treated as 1 encumbrance lower than normal. (So, perfectly fitted, feathersteel armor would be completely unencumbering.) Suit of full plate: 3,000sp.

Nightstone: Within 4″ of the surface of this metal, light is dimmed and sound is muffled. Stealth rolls are improved by 2. (Not ignoring any penalties from armor or encumbrance). Speaking requires either that the wearer shout to be heard, or remove their helmet. Suit of full plate: 4,000sp.

Cold Iron: Something about this metal, it’s completely unknown precisely what, drives creatures of the lower planes into a mad frenzy. Any polite social interaction becomes impossible. But, oddly, they also seem resistant to attack a target wearing this armor. If they must, they will do so, but the wearer’s armor class is raised by 2, due to the demon’s reticence to actually come in contact with the hated metal. Suit of full plate: 6,000sp.

Viridescent Cobalt: Something about the way light refracts off of viridescent cobalt isn’t received well by the human eye. With time and focus, the eye can adjust to get a good look at it so long as it doesn’t move. But otherwise, it’s just a green blur. Armor made from viridescent cobalt provides a +1 to armor class against humanoid foes. Suit of full plate: 12,000sp.

Azurika:  A pale blue metal which is uniquely unaffected by magic. Why magic works and exists in the first place is a concept that is little understood, so why Azurika seems stubbornly resistant to it remains a mystery. But those who wear armor made of it receive a +2 bonus to saves against magical effects.  Suit of full plate: 18,000sp.

Related Posts

The goal of the spending money posts.
A really neat post about armor.