Category: Cunning Classes

Bangtail Class (Revised)

To be a D&D character is to be an undesirable. Someone for whom society does not care, and who must step outside the bounds of ‘acceptable behavior’ to survive. That’s why they’re willing to face absurd dangers; why they plunder tombs, and dare the mythic underworld; why the Thief is a quintessential class. Sex Workers are D&D as hell.

The Bangtail was originally published in April of 2016. I originally wrote it as a sort of reskin of the Thief, and I think I did a truly terrible job of it. I’ve had a player running a Bangtail in one of my games for a couple years now, and I frequently forget that they’re playing one. The original draft of the class so thoroughly fails to make any notable mark on the game. It needs a much more dramatic overhaul than the Bear in Disguise or Giftgiver did.

Bangtail

There’s a skill to being a courtesan. It’s more than just being good at doing a sex on the peoples what that give you a money. To be a true queen of the craft you must understand your own charms, and your quarry’s weaknesses. You’ve got to know how to draw them in, and how to keep them where you want them: in the palm of your hand.

Bangtails have a d6 hit die. They advance according to the Fighter’s experience table, and attack as a thief/specialist/rogue.

Saving Throws

The Bangtail’s work can be pretty gross. They’re regularly exposed to all manner of vectors for disease and infection, and have accumulated great stores of knowledge for how to protect themselves. The generally low regard with which they are viewed prevents their knowledge from being taken seriously, and has thus become a sort of ‘trade secret.’

Most saving throws are rolled as a thief of equivalent level. Saving throws versus Poison, however, are always one rank better than a thief’s would be. For example: a Labyrinth Lord thief’s Poison save is 14 from levels 1-4, then drops to 12 at level 5. A Bangtail’s Poison save would start at 12, and drop to 10 at level 5. (Which for the thief, does not occur until level 9.)

Life of the Party

Bangtails are skilled in a wide variety of party tricks and performances: singing, dancing, games, comedy, etc. At character creation a player ought to pick one sort of performance at which their Bangtail excels.

Sneak Attack

One can’t make it far in this profession without the anatomical expertise to make a person feel great pleasure or great pain. Because of this, Bangtails may Backstab as a thief of equivalent level. If playing LotFP, assume x2 at first level, and advancing one multiplier on every even numbered level.

Amorous Gymnastics

Flexibility and grace are an occupational necessity, and like all aspects of her craft, the Bangtail has raised this to an artform. The possibilities are broad, and intentionally left open to interpretation. A few examples of what a successful check might allow are:

  • Fit themselves into spaces that might normally be considered too small, and move freely in those spaces: easily slip through the bars of a prison cell, or hide in a briefcase.
  • Escape any manner of bondage, no matter how thorough.
  • Balance under even the most difficult circumstances.
  • Hang out of a window for several minutes before tiring.
  • Generally use their body in unusual ways, such as firing a bow with their feet.

Because Amorous Gymnastics overlaps with tasks often resolved by skill systems, and because skill systems are so varied, integrating it into a game will require some judgement on the part of the referee.

If the game allows all characters to gain and spend skill points, Amorous Gymnastics might be considered a sort of combination of different skills, available only to the Bangtail, and something she can put points into or not.

If the game’s thief equivalent is the only class that advances their skills, matching a thief’s progression in some similar skill might be appropriate.

Failing all else: check Amorous Gymnastics by attempting to roll a 5 or higher on progressively larger dice. A d6 is rolled at first level, advancing to a d8 at level 3, a d10 at level 5, and a d12 at level 7.

Fans

Fans are a type of hireling which are drawn to the Bangtail automatically as she levels. She may have a number of them equal to half her level, rounded up. They are particularly devoted, with each having a loyalty score of d4 + 8.

Devoted though they may be, Fans are not cannon fodder. They have placed the Bangtail on a pedestal, and may write her many flowery poems about being willing to die in her service, but they have their own wants and needs, and are not inhumanly immune to fear. If one dies, the Bangtail cannot replace them until the next time she levels up.

Charm

In games which use the 2d6 reaction roll as the “attack roll” of a social encounter, Bangtails receive a flat +1 bonus to all such rolls.

In games which use other social resolution mechanics, some equivalently significant bonus should be substituted.

Seduction

No two seductions are quite alike, and they depend very much on who the Bangtail’s quarry is. Seducing the drunk lecher may be as simple as the player saying they wish to do so. Seducing the devotedly attached and monogamous cleric would likely require a series of successful social encounters over many weeks. Seducing a skeleton may be completely impossible–or it may not.

If a system for seduction is needed, try this: for any given NPC roll 3d6. Drop the lowest if they ought to be difficult to seduce, and drop the highest if they ought to be easy to seduce. The resulting number is their resistance to the Bangtail’s charms. It is reduced by 1 each time the Bangtail makes a successful social roll against them, and at 0 they will be eager to find some place to be alone together.

Regardless of how it is accomplished, 4 hours are required for the Bangtail to thoroughly demonstrate the many delights to which she can inspire mortal flesh.

Once someone has been seduced, the Bangtail gains a number of boons with regard to them:

  • Social rolls made with a seduced person have a total bonus of +2.
  • Attack rolls made against a seduced person have a bonus equal to the Bangtail’s level.
  • If the Bangtail and the seduced person do not share a language, they are able to communicate as effectively as if they did.
  • The Bangtail comes away knowing d6 secrets the seduced person would not normally have revealed. The Bangtail decides what type of secrets they are, but the referee determines the specific information. (ex. “I want to know something that embarrasses them,” or “I want to know the combination for their vault.”)
  • The Bangtail comes away owning any one object they wish to take from the seduced person, so long as it is small enough to be carried. In the case of particularly valuable objects, the seduced person may regret their decision, and attempt to get the item back later.

How to run sex in games without making it weird

I once wrote a whole essay on this topic which I’d encourage you to reference if you feel conflicted. In brief, sex in games works just fine for most people so long as you keep three points in mind:

  • Sex in the game shouldn’t be about anyone’s actual sexual gratification. If you’re getting aroused, then you’re doing it wrong.
  • Describe characters having sex in the game the way you’d describe those same characters eating an unusual meal. There’s no need to ‘fade to black,’ but neither is there any need for a play-by-play.
  • People’s comfort level with sex in D&D varies wildly, and it should be easy to respect that.

Gift Giver Class (Revised)

I only got to playtest the Gift Giver for about 6 months back in 2016. We got a good sense of what worked and what didn’t, but I admit I wish I’d taken better notes. I’m sure there’s something I forgot in this revision.

The act of giving gifts was a huge hit, but for some reason the original draft hadn’t made it more the focus of a class that was literally named for doing it. Perhaps because it’s tricky to build a class around social encounters when no two people run their social encounters the same way. I’m not sure I’ve done much better on that front below, but I’ve made more of an effort. The class’s secondary powers also needed some expansion and punch up.

The Gift Giver

The Jolly Order of Gift Givers is a society of venerable men, women, and other folk noted for their generosity and good cheer. Upon induction to the order each Gift Giver is endowed with mystic powers in accordance with the Faustian bargain made by the Order’s saintly founder in time immemorial. It’s said to be the only truly successful deal ever made with the Devil. The contract (penned in the founder’s own hand) is contained in 14,823 volumes in a vault deep beneath the Order’s ancestral meeting hall. Priests and church scholars of every stripe have poured over the document for centuries and report a baffling lack of any sin committed either by the founder, or by those who take the Jolly Oaths.

Basics

Gift Givers have a d6 hit die. They level according to the Fighter’s experience table, with the attack modifiers and saving throws of a Specialist or Thief. They have no particular limitations for weapon or armor use, though given the weight of the gifts they carry they may become over-encumbered if they insist on wearing heavy armor. While not required, bright colors and bells are a sort of unofficial uniform for Gift Givers. Other members of the order may look askance at someone who dressed otherwise.

Though elves are not usually willing to become hirelings to anyone but other elves, they have a mysterious liking for these jolly old folk which gives them a +2 to their loyalty. Even the elves don’t really know why they feel this way. The Gift Givers do, but won’t reveal the secret.

Gifts, and Giving Them

At the outset of each new adventure the Giftgiver muse spend 25% of their liquid wealth purchasing gifts for others. Likewise, these unspecified and amorphous gifts take up 25% of their total encumbrance at all times. If the player chooses to abandon their supply of gifts for the extra carrying capacity, they will lose access to all class features (not just gift giving) until they stock back up.

A subtle predictive magic is at play when a Gift Giver goes shopping. They themselves doesn’t really know why they buy the things they buy, but in their travels they will invariably have the perfect gift for everyone they meet. Players are encouraged to be creative and generous in coming up with good gifts for every shopkeep, quest giver, and parleying monster they encounter. The only limitation is that it must be something that could be reasonably found, made, scavenged, or purchased in the place where the adventure began.

A member of the Jolly Order would never attach strings to a gift. To do so would sully the act of giving, transform it into an exchange or a bribe. That is not the Gift Giver way. None the less, gifts change the balance of most social situations. Folks generally feel an obligation to be friendly. They’ll usually want to make some kind of concession, or offer something they think is useful as a gift in return. Precisely how they respond is up to the referee, but unless they are a truly hateful creature they ought to do something nice.

The unexpectedness of what each NPC will consider an appropriate response to a gift is part of this class’s charm, and shouldn’t be over-mechanized. That said, it’s also a little wishy-washy, and may be difficult to wrap your head around. If need be, have the player roll 3d6 and add the higher two results together, resulting in a number between 2 and 12. The higher the result, the better the NPC’s response is.

Gift Givers are limited to one gift per person per year. That’s just how the magic works.

Gift Giver Magics

Starting at second level, and at every even-numbered level thereafter, the Gift Giver’s generosity has earned them a new magic power in accord with the ancient contract. Roll d10 on the table below to determine which power they gain. If the player rolls a power they already have, they may choose for themselves one power which they don’t.

None of a Gift Giver’s abilities are subject to magical resistances, such as anti-magic fields or counter spells.

  1. Gift of Entry
  2. Enchant Animal
  3. Sleepytime Kiss
  4. Treat Oneself
  5. Gift of Cold
  6. Time Stop
  7. Shrink Object
  8. Gaze of Shame
  9. Baleful Levitate
  10. Know Heart

1. Gift of Entry

By touching the outer wall of a structure, the Gift Giver instantly appears on the other side with a faint ‘pop.’ They may bring with them a number of passengers equal to their level.

The power only allows the character to enter or exit a discrete structure. It cannot be used to bypass interior walls or doors once inside. Gift Givers may only use this power on a given structure once to enter, and once to exit each day.

While not strictly required, it is expected that a Gift Giver will leave gifts in any building they enter in this fashion. If it were known that a character failed to do so, they might be summoned to make an account of themselves before the elders of the Jolly Brotherhood.

2. Enchant Animal

Herbivorous animals do not fear a Gift Giver. They’ll happily come up and climb onto the character’s shoulder, or nuzzle against them. Once this power is obtained the Gift Giver may enchant one of these creatures for every 2 levels they have. The animals remain enchanted until they die, or the Gift Giver releases them.

Enchanted Animals can speak, and fly, and will happily perform almost any task the Gift Giver requests of them. The one thing they won’t do is deadly violence. They’re happy to trip or disarm a bad person, but will do nothing that would deal direct harm. If the Gift Giver asks this of them, the enchantment is broken, and the animal will flee.

3. Sleepytime Kiss

By kissing someone, a Gift Giver can send them into a magical slumber which lasts for 1 hour. No saving throw against this is allowed. Sleepers cannot be awakened by noise or gentle physical contact. Rough physical treatment will break the spell.

A Sleepytime Kiss can not be performed in combat, or against anyone who is actively resisting the kiss. The target must either accept the kiss willingly, or be surprised by the kiss. A peck on the hand or cheek is sufficient.

Kissing someone who is already asleep will ensure they remain asleep for at least 1 more hour. Kissing someone multiple times does not add additional hours, it merely restarts the 1 hour countdown.

4. Treat Oneself

Gift Givers never know why they buy something. They simply trust the magic which guides their intuition. They know that at some point in their travels, they’ll encounter a person for whom each object is a perfect gift.

At some point their generosity is so commendable that the magics which guide them start to give something back. Unknowingly, the Gift Giver begins to purchase gifts for themselves. At some point during each adventure they may produce a single item which they now realize they purchased to aid them in whatever situation they currently find themselves in. Like the gifts given to others, these must be something that could reasonably be purchased, found, made, or scavenged at the location where they last stocked up on gifts.

5. Affinity for Cold

Weather cold enough to do harm to most folks is energizing to the Gift Giver. In such conditions they have the strength of 2 people, and experience the opposite of whatever hindrances most people face. If the weather is cold enough to deal d4 hit points of damage each hour, then the Gift Giver heals d4 hit points each hour. If the snow slows most folks movement speed by half, then the Gift Giver’s is doubled.

This effect also protects the Gift Giver from cold-based magical attacks. Against an Ice Dragon’s breath they would take half damage on a failed save, and no damage on a successful save. Against a sword with an extra d6 of frost damage, they’d only take normal weapon damage, etc.

6. Time Stop

Gift Givers have an uncanny knack for getting a lot of work done in the blink of an eye. The legends they tell of their founder say he was able to accomplish impossible feats in a single night. Contemporary members of the Joyful Order aren’t quite so skilled, perhaps because the powers are now spread across so many different people?

Once per day a Gift Giver can stop time for d4 + 1 rounds. During which time they can move and act normally. If a Gift Giver refrains from using this power for an entire year, they can gather enough power to themselves to stop time for a full d4 + 1 hours.

7. Shrink Object

In order to facilitate the ability to carry better gifts, the character gains the ability to shrink objects down to a more manageable size. This can be done to any number of objects, as many times per day as desired. The character need only touch the item, and it’ll shrink small enough to only take up a single encumbrance. Restoring the item to its proper size is equally simple.

Only inanimate material can be shrunk by this method. People and animals are immune.

8. Gaze of Shame

There’s nothing worse than the look of profound disappointment on the face of a Giftgiver. It crushes a person’s ego, makes them reevaluate themselves and their actions.

Gaze of Shame is only effective against targets who are not in combat against the Giftgiver, and can only ever be used once per target. Ever.

The weight of shame will cause the target to change their mind on a single issue indicated by the Giftgiver. What they change their mind to may not be precisely what the Giftgiver wanted, but in good faith the referee should make the target’s new position an improvement over their old one.

9. Baleful Levitate

With a waggle of their fingers and a polite barb about their target’s foibles, Gift Givers can cause one creature within their line of sight to begin floating. They may do this as often as they please, but their targets are entitled to a saving throw versus Paralyzation to resist the effect, and gain a +1 bonus to their save for each creature already floating.

Floating characters are repelled by any surface they attempt to gain purchase on. They drift erratically, unable to control their position. They can still act, but nothing is easy. For example, they can only attack people they happen to drift towards, and even then will never be in the optimum position, so their attacks are penalized by d10, re-rolled each round.

10. Know Heart

By fixing their attention on a person, a Gift Giver can know their innermost desires, and the nature of their character. This ability does not communicate the specifics of the target’s intent, plans, thoughts, or deeds. It merely lets the Gift Giver know what they want, and whether they are naughty or nice.

Bear in Disguise Class (Revised)

You might be surprised how difficult it can be to divide one’s attention between writing books and writing blogs. I’ve been working hard at bookmaking of late (have you seen my itch store?). I should probably fill you all in on that stuff, but first this place needs some damn posts. Over a month without an update makes me deeply uncomfortable.

A number of the new classes posted over the last few years are due to be revisited. Specifically the ones I’ve been able to play with, and thus gained a real sense of what worked and what didn’t in the first draft. There’s no better place to start than with an all-time favorite from way back in May 2016.

Bear in Disguise

As any sophisticated, sensible ursine knows, humans are ill equipped to deal with our kind. They are not stupid, per se, but they have narrow definitions of intelligence, civilization, and personhood. That we poop in the woods and prefer the taste of fresh fish to crushed weed-meal seems to humans an excellent argument for our lack of moral and intellectual agency. Yet credit must be given where it is due: humans have accomplished remarkable things despite their well documented lack of a soul.

Notable among these is their adventurous sensibility. There is a real ‘adventurer culture’ among humans. It is perhaps born of their inferior social structure which frequently produces problems that require extra-legal solutions. The social fabric of Bear Country is made of sterner stuff, but it does leave precious little opportunity for adventuresome youths to test their mettle. It is therefore not uncommon for a young bear to travel among humans for a time. Of course it is necessary to employ disguise to avoid agitating the creatures, but that’s a simple enough thing for any bear to do.

Basics
Bears in Disguise have a d12 hit die. They level according to the Magic User’s experience table, but their attack modifiers and saving throws advance as a Cleric. They have no special limitations for weapon or armor usage, but any clothing or armor they wear must be specially fitted for them by a skilled artisan.

Claw / Claw / Bite
Bears are adept unarmed combatants. During each round of combat they may make two claw attacks against a single target, and if both claws successfully hit they may make a third roll to attempt a bite attack. Damage dealt scales with level.

  • 1st Level: Claws d4, Bite d8
  • 4th Level: Claws d6, Bite d10
  • 7th Level: Claws d8, Bite d12

Knowledge of the Wilderness

Bears in Disguise begin play with maximum ranks the game’s equivalent of a wilderness survival skill. For Lamentations of the Flame Princess this would mean a 6-in-6 Bushcraft. If your game has more than one applicable skill the player should choose one, or divide their ranks between the various skills. If your game has no applicable skills, a simple understanding that bears know their way around the woods is sufficient.

Encumbrance

Bears in Disguise are always treated as though they are 1 step less encumbered than they are. When they are lightly encumbered, they may act as though they were unencumbered. When moderately encumbered they act lightly encumbered, and so on.

Disguise

The technique employed by Bears in Disguise defies explanation. Very little actually changes about their appearance, smells, or sounds. They don’t alter their face, shave their fur, or employ any illusory magics. It’s all body language and a nice hat. Even their voice is just growls and roars which, somehow, are heard as the common language of the creature they’re disguised as.

Humans are the most common disguise for adventuresome young bears, but they are technically capable of appearing as any creature with similar anatomy. A bear could disguise themselves as an orc, an elf, an ogre, etc. They could make an attempt at looking like a dwarf, but people would frequently comment about their aberrant size. Disguising themselves as a goblin or halfling is out of the question.

Good as it is, the disguise is not perfect. The first time any NPC pays particular attention to the bear there is a 1-in-20 chance they will percieve the character to be the ferocious wild animal they are. Everyone will think they’re crazy for saying so, but the NPC will refuse to have anything to do with the bear. They will likely flee in terror, or even attack if they feel cornered. Under most conditions this special perception check is only ever made once per NPC.

Altering the disguise is not easy. It requires at least a week of observation if the bear is not yet intimately familiar with the species they wish to emulate, and then several hours of meditation to shift from one brain space to another. Anyone who sees how effectively the bear can disguise itself as something new will get a second opportunity to see them as the ferocious beast they are. This time the chance is 50/50, and applies to everyone who knows the bear in multiple disguises. Even long time hirelings may not be willing to overlook the deception.

Fellow player characters will will never know their companion is a bear. They’re all assumed to have failed any chances they got at some point in the past. If they knew you were a bear, they’d never agree to party with you.

Grappling

Bears are natural grapplers, which is awkward to communicate given the vast disparity between methods of resolving grapples in different games.

At my table grapples are resolved by rolling pools of the participants’ hit dice against one another. So a level 3 fighter being grappled by two 1HD goblins would roll 3d8 against their 2d6. When using this method a Bear in Disguise grapples as though they have one hit die more than they do: two dice at level 1, three dice at level 2, etc. Given their d12 hit die this is a significant advantage.

In Lamentations of the Flame Princes RAW, grapples are resolved by opposed d20 rolls modified by attack bonus and strength modifier. If I were using this system I might say a Bear gets to roll 2d20 and take the better result, or I might say a Bear’s attack modifier is equal to a fighter’s for the purposes of Grappling.

Whatever method is used at your table the essential thing is that a Bear in Disguise is probably the best grappler that exists on two legs. They can be defeated, but it’ll probably take two or three common opponents working together to bring them down.

The Bear Code

Bears are strictly peaceful with one another. If a Bear in Disguise were to turn their claws against another of their kind they would be marked for death. The rest of their days would be spent worrying which shadows contained bearsassins, until one of them finally did. There is no process of appeal. It is the code of the bears.

If a bear is encountered by the party the Bear in Disguise may attempt to negotiate a settlement amenable to both. If hostilities break out they must either aid their fellow bear, or remain completely neutral. Even encouraging words to their companions would mark them a traitor, loathed by their own people for all time.

That’s the Bear in Disguise! Other classes you can expect revisions for are the Gift Giver, the Bangtail, and possibly The Action Hero. (Though, to be honest, that one worked pretty well. Not sure if anything needs changing.) I have had players roll up Possessor Spirits, Anti-Magic Clerics, and a Warlock, but those characters were too short lived to get much useful info on. If anybody else out there has run games with my classes I’d be delighted to hear about how it went.

New Class: The Beekeeper

Honeyed heroes. Wardens of the hives. Masked protectors of our buzzing pals. Beekeepers use a d8 hit die. They gain experience and roll saving throws as a Thief or Specialist would.

Beekeepers begin play with a special type of heavy gambeson, complete with gloves, boots, and mask. When not wearing this armor they lose access to any swarm control abilities they have. It’s the equivalent of leather armor against normal attacks. Against swarm type creatures it’s the equivalent of wearing pull plate and carrying a shield. The armor also grants a +2 bonus to any saving throws associated with harmful gas.

To be a true friend of the bees means being a superb dancer. At some point before play began the Beekeeper will have learned an intricate dance which allowed them to befriend a swarm of bees. The swarm now accompanies them wherever they go whether they like it or not. As the beekeeper grows to understand their friendly swarm better, they will learn new dances which each correspond to some specific instruction. The swarm is only large enough to follow one instruction at a time, though in some circumstances referees may opt to allow a swarm to be divided in half so that two instructions can be carried out with reduced efficacy.

At each level, including the first, Beekeepers roll on the table below. Each time a Swarm Instruction is learned it should be crossed off the table. In the event that the Beekeeper rolls a result that has already been crossed off, they may then freely choose one of the other abilities from the list. In this way the higher level a Beekeeper becomes the more likely they are to be able to choose the abilities they want. Though it is never guaranteed.

Swarm Instructions (Roll d12)

  1. Stinging Cloud – The swarm spreads out to cover a space with a 10′ radius in any location the Beekeeper indicates. Enemies within that space take 1 damage per round.
  2. Vibrating Death – The swarm clings to a single target indicated by the Beekeeper. Each bee vibrates, creating an incredible amount of heat. Deals 2d6 damage each round. If the target is larger than man sized, a single swarm can’t effectively cover it, and will instead deal only 2d4 damage each round.
  3. Hive Construction – With incredible swiftness the swarm can construct a hive of whatever shape the Beekeeper desires. Each adventuring turn they work allows them to create the equivalent of a 5′ cube.
  4. Second Swarm – The Beekeeper befriends another swarm, allowing their bees to carry out two instructions simultaneously. The Beekeeper can still only dance out one instruction per round.
  5. Communal Carry – By working together the bees can carry an impressive amount of weight. Roughly equivalent to one adult human.
  6. Buzzvoice – Precisely synchronized buzzing enables the swarm to produce a sound that is recognizable as human speech. They do not understand the language, and cannot use it to express their own thoughts or ideas, but they can use it to relay messages to and from the Beekeeper.
  7. Intercepting Cloud – The swarm spreads out to cover a space with a 10′ radius in any location the Beekeeper indicates. Any missiles or single-target spells directed into this space will be intercepted by a brave bee. The swarm is able to protect against a number of attacks equal to double the Beekeeper’s level each day.
  8. Bee’s Bounty – With great rapidity the swarm produces a great quantity of honey. Each 10 minute turn they could produce 1 bucket’s worth. The honey is sweet and nutritious, and soothing to many common ailments.
  9. Gummy Goop – With great rapidity the swarm produces a substance that looks sorta like honey, but is bitter to the taste and incredibly sticky to touch. In a 10 minute turn they can coat a 5′ square area in this substance, and anything which touches it will be stuck for at least 2d6 turns.
  10. Armor – The brave and noble bees rally around the Beekeeper, covering their body to protect them from incoming attacks. While shrouded by their friendly swarm in this fashion the Beekeeper’s armor class is equivalent to plate.
  11. Buzzlarm – The swarm may be directed to form a perimeter, and to buzz an alarm if anyone crosses it. The beekeeper can direct them to raise an alarm only in certain circumstances, so long as those circumstances can be communicated in a way that is understandable to bees.
  12. Stop Buzzing – The Beekeeper finally figures out how to get the swarm to uniformly STOP buzzing around them for a period. Turns out the beekeeper used to be pretty stealthy before a group of noisemakers started following them around everywhere. While their swarm is quiet the Beekeeper’s stealth ability is equal to whatever your game’s median stealth ability would be. Round up. (So: a 4-in-6 for LotFP, a d10 using Middle Road skills, etc).

Thoughts on “The Financier” by Daniel Dean

The Financier is a phenomenal little class recently posted over on Basic Red. The idea is that you’re the wastrel offspring of some far off nobility. Too pampered to be any use on an adventure. Your main ability is to spend money on the rest of the party, and to gather a cabal of attaches which grows as you level. The usefulness of these varies, which is perfect. The class seems designed to be halfway between help and handicap for the rest of the party. I’m itching to play one.

I’m curious how the resources of the class would play at the table. 1000 money is certainly way more than most parties have to start with, but it’s also not enough to fully equip the party in the best mundane gear. Depending on where you get your gear prices from a set of plate mail might cost 450 (LL), 1,000 (LotFP), 1,200 (DCC). You’ll definitely need to make intelligent choices. I like that, but I also feel like this is something I’d want to tinker with after playtesting it a bit. Striking the balance between rich enough to open up interesting new possibilities, but poor enough to force intelligent choices is going to be a tricky balance to strike. One that will be particular to each campaign’s economy.

I really like the idea that the Financier allows the party to bring siege weapons to bear against dungeon problems. “If you think a catapult would help, I can buy us a catapult.” That sorta thing. Not in the first adventure, but once they’ve got a few treasure hauls and had their wealth doubled that would be a fun way to take things.

John Salway & Jesse Cox on g+ have already suggested the addition of a Lawyer attache. Someone who could whip up contracts and help smooth over legal troubles. I’d like to further suggest:

Tame Philosopher: Educated enough to make any nonsense sound deep. Their primary role is to have conversations with the financier that make their employer feel smart. Once per level the Financier may roll an intelligence check as if they had 18 in that ability. The Tame Philosopher may be deployed to distract any faux-intellectuals the party comes across.

Groom: Tends to any animals the party has brought with them. Keeps them properly fed, trained, and presentable. Any rolls that would normally be made to direct these creatures gain a bonus of 1. Creatures may learn 1 more trick than normally allowed.

Priest: A spiritual advisor to the Financier, whose primary job is to theologically justify their actions. Their presence makes the Financier immune to guilt.

I’d also explicitly note that these attendants can’t be left behind. They go wherever the Financier goes, making all sorts of racket.


A Second Look at Hacking, Clerics, & Socializing

Often, I write a post as a means of working through an idea for the first time. Forcing myself to explain the idea gets my thoughts in order. Later, the idea develops further through play, and within a few sessions the rules I’m using are markedly different from what I’ve got posted up on the blog.

This isn’t the worst thing. Blogs posts aren’t meant to be sourcebooks; they’re meant to be part of a community-wide conversation. None the less, it’s not ideal. I often want to post updates to older posts, which I don’t mind doing if there are a ton of changes to what I originally wrote, but seems like kind of a waste when the changes are less dramatic. As a middle ground, I figure I’ll address multiple old posts at a time.

Simple Socializing: The Give & Take System

(Originally posted April 5, 2017)

I’ve been tinkering with this approach to social encounters for half a decade now. As such, my changes here are quite small. The numbers have been tweaked by playtesting, and a few special cases are called out explicitly.

Attempting Parley

When a potentially hostile encounter occurs, the referee should first determine surprise. If one party surprises the other, attempting parley would require them to sacrifice that advantage.

Parley begins with the players making a social roll, which is 2d6 + any relevant modifiers (such as Charisma). This first roll determines 3 things:

1. The number of exchanges the NPCs will tolerate before they want to leave. The referee should write it down and tick off 1 for each back-and-forth that occurs. (“How are you?” “I’m doing well.” counts as a 1 exchange).

2. The disposition of the NPCs towards the party, determined by comparing the result to the first column of the table to the right.

3. The success or failure of whatever the party’s opening social action was.

Social actions fall into four basic categories: Banal, Give, Take, and Convince. Any time the players say something, consider which of these four it most closely fits in with. If it’s anything other than banal, it will require another social roll.

Banal actions are simple conversation: trivial questions, small talk, and other minutia. They have no chance to fail, and thus require no roll. That’s not to say they’re useless, it’s just not interesting for them to have a failure chance.

Giving actions are those where the party attempts to ingratiate themselves to the NPC. To make themselves more liked. It may take the form of telling a joke, offering compliments, giving gifts, or just listening attentively.

<8: The NPC is unimpressed.
8-10: The NPC enjoyed that. +1 to your next social action.
11+: The NPC likes you. +1 to their disposition.

Taking actions are attempts to get something out of the interaction. Specifically something the NPC may be hesitant to give. This roll covers things like negotiating an agreement, requesting aid, asking a sensitive question, intimidation, bribery, etc.

<4: You’ve upset the NPC. Disposition drops 1 category.
4-6: The NPC refuses you outright.
7-9: The NPC will meet you halfway.
10-11: The NPC agrees to what you want.
12+: The NPC agrees, and offers to do a little better than what was asked for.

Convincing actions are attempts to bring the NPC around to a viewpoint different than the one they currently hold. Used for making arguments or telling suspicious lies. These are difficult to succeed at, and risky to attempt. People don’t like it when you try to change them.

<5: Disposition drops by 1 category.
5-7: Disposition drops by 1.
8-9: The NPC is unconvinced, but not insulted.
10-13: The NPC is swayed, but needs some proof.
14+: The NPC accepts what you said wholeheartedly.

Social encounters are a many-faceted beast which defies being resolved by any simple chucking of dice. This system is not meant to dictate what a social encounter can be. Rather, it’s a baseline which can be adhered to or deviated from in whatever way serves the game best.

Just as they would with combat, the players should look for ways to gain advantage. The referee should imbue the NPCs with their own goals and desires. Penalties and bonuses should assessed where appropriate.

Basic Game Structure, & Hacking as an Involved Deviation

(Originally posted August 27, 2017)

I still like all the stuff I said about the Three Step Conversation and the difference between a Quick and an Involved Deviation. It’s just the hacking system itself that needs to be updated.

There are some minor tweaks to the numbers, and I’ve dropped a few elements that didn’t turn out to be useful at the table. The biggest change is to how failure is handled. The original alarms were too lenient, and assumed the party would always be afraid of their hacks being discovered, which often isn’t the case. If your’e hacking the computer in a long forgotten techno-dungeon, the idea that the hack will be discovered by the police a week from now is not anything to worry about.

Basic Computer Design

Computers have a security rating between 2 and 6 (inclusive) which indicates how difficult it is for a user to do something they’re not supposed to do. Optionally, the referee may want to prepare a list of what information or devices the computer has access to. Just as easily, this can be done using common sense fiat at the table.

When To Roll a Hacking Attempt

Unless players are using a personal computer or a public terminal, they’ll need to make a check just to log on. From here, they can access basic information about the computer’s systems, what it’s connected to, and what type of data is stored on it. Most of the really interesting stuff will require further hacking checks.

For example: reading someone’s personal files, downloading those files, altering the computer’s settings, activating a device connected to the computer, uploading a new program, erasing security footage. Each of these would require a new hacking check.

Making a Hacking Check

Untrained characters have a hacking skill of 2d6. Training adds additional dice to the pool up to a maximum of 5d6. When attempting a hack players roll their entire pool. Each die showing a face equal to or greater than the computer’s current security rating is a success.

Rolling no successes means the hack has failed, and the security rating is raised by 1.

Rolling a single success means the hack has succeed, but it was done sloppily, so the security rating is still raised by 1.

Rolling two or more successes means the hack has succeeded, and the security rating does not change.

If the security rating is raised to 7, the computer completely locks down and it becomes impossible to attempt any further hacking.

If the security rating was raised at all, it will eventually be noticed by whoever owns the computer. Depending on circumstances, they may be able to identify who the hacker was and seek retribution against them.

Special

Assistance: One player may assist the primary hacker by making their own hacking check against the computer’s security rating. If they get 2 or more successes, the primary hacker may add 1 success to their own pool.

Network Hacking: Attempting to access a computer over a local network increases its security rating by 1. Attempting to access it across the Internet increases its security rating by 2.

Lowering the Alarm Level: If the security level has been raised, the hacker may attempt to lower it by making a check against the current security rating + 1. Security cannot be reduced below its starting level.

Root Access: Hackers can attempt to gain root access on any system. Doing so requires four successes. Hackers with root access can perform any local action without making further checks.

New Class: The Cleric, as Anti-Magician

(Originally posted January 21, 2018)

Both my socialization system and my hacking system have undergone rigorous playtesting since I wrote them. I have a lot of hard data about how to make them better. Not so much with the Cleric variant I proposed early this year.  As I write this I’ve only had a single player use the class during a single session, and it didn’t go well.

Even before that, I knew there were some issues. Nobody wants to play the thing because it was originally written to be almost completely reactive. I was worried about making the class overpowered, and in doing so I made something nobody wants to play. The classic issue with the Cleric.

I still believe in the core ideas I proposed here, I just think they need some tweaking.

There is a divine music to the universe. Before the fall of man, when we lived each day in the light of our creator, we heard this music always. After we were cast out from the sacred garden we lost the ability to hear. The music still rings out from every sphere in the heavens, but it is beyond us now.

Through diligent study of God’s word, and meditation on the divine, Clerics have trained themselves to hear the faintest echos of that music. Hearing it changes a person. They experience reality the way God always intended for his beloved children. Their only desire is to hear more, and to hear better. Sin disrupts the music, and becomes hateful to the cleric. There is no sin greater than magic.

Clerics have a d8 hit die. They advance and make saving throws as the default cleric class does. Clerics cannot cast any spells. If alignment is used in your game, clerics must be Lawful.

Clerics have the following abilities:

Miracle: Once per week, per level, clerics may call upon God to aid them. The almighty will momentarily intervene in material affairs to do one of the following things:

  • Reveal a hidden truth.
  • Alter the cleric’s environment.
  • Heal a living person’s un-healable ailment.
  • Create an impressive spectacle

Think of it as a wish with limited focus and potency. Remember, also, that God is an NPC. God does not appreciate being treated as a class ability. Clerics are warned not to be trivial in calling upon The Almighty. God is never obligated to answer. The referee is the final arbiter.

Turn: The cleric confronts their foes with a brief glimpse of God’s might. The player should indicate a single target and roll 2d6, comparing the result to the matrix below

(Note: this ability affects all foes, regardless of type)

If the cleric’s roll is equal to or greater than the result indicated for their target’s hit dice, that foe is awed by the terrible might of God. They will flee from the cleric if there is an easy escape, or cower meekly if there is not. This effect persists as long as the target is not attacked, and the cleric takes no action aside from looking imposing, or turning other foes.

The cleric may turn as many times as they wish, so long as they are successful. If a turn attempt fails, the cleric’s mystique is undone. They may not turn this group of foes again today.

On the table, a result of “-” means turning is impossible. A result of “T” means turning is automatic. A result of “T*” means that any of the target’s allies with the same or fewer hit dice are also turned. A result of “D” means the target is destroyed by the unbearable glory of God, and that the target’s allies with similar hit dice are automatically turned. A Result of “D*” means that the target, and their allies with similar HD, are destroyed.

Dispel Magic: Clerics may force chaos to bend itself back to order by an act of will. Simply roll a d6. On a result of 1, the attempt fails; otherwise it succeeds. The magic is undone; it fails to activate or its effect ends. If a permanent magic is targeted (such as the enchantments on a magic weapon), then it is only suppressed rather than destroyed. It will return when next the item is touched by moonlight.

Anytime a spell is cast in the cleric’s presence, they may attempt to interrupt its casting by dispelling it. Doing so consumes their next turn.

Keep track of how many times each day this ability fails. If it equals the cleric’s level, the music of God’s perfect creation has become warped in their ears. They won’t be able to dispel magic again until they’ve had 8 hours to rest, and to pray.

For every hit die a Magic User has above a cleric, the failure chance of this ability increases by 1. So a first level cleric suffers no penalty against a first level magic user; but when dispelling the casting of a second level magic user their failure chance would be 2-in-6. Against a third level magic user it would be 3-in-6, and so on.

Referees may also wish to assess penalties for other types of magic. Those which are fundamental to a creature’s being, such as fairy magic. Those which are deeply rooted, or ancient, or unusually potent. It is left to the judgement of the referee, but this is meant to be a powerful ability. It should not be undermined to excess.

Identify: Thoroughly shutting down magic the way Clerics do requires a profound understanding of it. Clerics can determine whether or not a thing is magical, what the effects of that magic are, and even some obscure details like how long ago the magic was cast, and whether the caster was right or left handed.

This is not something a Cleric can do passively. They can’t walk into a room, and immediately point out all the magic items within. However, if they handle an object, look at it closely, smell it, taste it, and listen to it, they will gain an understanding of any magics attached to it. Discovering the magical properties of a thing requires 10 minutes.

Spell Resistance: Clerics have a chance-in-twenty to resist magic, equal to their level. 1-in-20 at first level, 2-in-20 at second level, etc. Any time the Cleric would be the target of magic, before any saving throws or spell effects are rolled, roll a d20. If the result is equal to, or lower than the Cleric’s level, the spell passes harmlessly over them.

This ability reaches its maximum at an 18-in-20 chance.

LotFP Class: Possessor Spirit

You are dead.

All in all, being dead is not so bad. It’s less “The End,” and more a change in perspective. When you were alive you hated the world and all living things because you were trapped in a horrible little corner of human existence. Now your experience is unlimited. You can go anywhere, see anything. You have a myriad of more interesting reasons for hating the world and all living things.  Eventually you’ll resolve whatever unfinished business binds you to this world so you can move on, and see if the afterlife lives up to the hype. For now, though, you’re putting that off so you can have some fun as a ghost.

Possessor Spirits advance as specialists, and share their hit points and saving throws with the Magic User. As ghosts they are completely incorporeal. They can neither be affected by the material world, nor can they affect it. This means they can pass through walls, and are immune to damage from non-magical weapons. However, they couldn’t make a grain of rice wobble if their afterlife depended on it.

When a Possessor Spirit is not attached to a physical body they appear as a monochromatic specter. During character creation the player should select the color of their translucent body: classic white, ghostly green, poltergeist pink; whatever tickles their fancy. They should also figure out what clothes they died in, since that’s what they’ll be wearing for the rest of eternity.

Despite their inability to affect the physical world, ghosts can still speak, as well as experience the world through their senses. They can feel the texture of an object, or taste a bit of food, but they cannot move the object or eat the food. Also, given how most people feel about ghosts, it may prove difficult for the character to socialize with outside their party. Some wizards or monsters might be comfortable having a chat, but most folks are very fleshist.

The best part of being a Possessor Spirit is the possessions. Just gettin’ on into people’s bodies and controlling them like puppets. It’s the best. Characters are able to possess one person, per day, per level. The target of the possession is entitled to a saving throw versus Magic to remain in control of their body. Their save is modified by the difference in hit dice between possessor and possessee. (For each HD the target has above the possessor, they get a +1 to their save. For each HD below, they take a -1 penalty.) If the save is successful, the Possessor Spirit is rebuffed. They take 1d6 damage, and cannot attempt to possess this target again until they level up. A failed possession attempt does not count against the spirit’s limit of possessions per day. If the target’s saving throw fails, the spirit takes control of their body.

While in command of a body, the possessor spirit gains full access to their host’s knowledge and abilities. Any skills, spells, secrets or powers belonging to the host are now at the disposal of the possessor. This open flow of information can be a double edged sword. The suppressed mind of the host gains equal access to the knowledge and secrets of the spirit which supplanted them. They may use what they learn to troublesome effect after the possession ends.

There are a few uncommon limits to a Possessor Spirit’s mastery over their host. Individuals with a heightened awareness of the spiritual world may recognize that a body has been possessed by a foreign spirit, and may even have means by which to cast the spirit out. Likewise, the host’s intimates may pick up on their friend/parent/lover’s peculiar behavior. Any conversation with such a person has a 1-in-6 chance to tip them off that something is wrong. The chance will increase if the possessor is not doing their best to act natural.

If a host dies while a Possessor Spirit is in control, both spirits (the possessor and their victim) are forced out. The victim’s spirit has a 4-in-6 chance of becoming an angry ghost which will return at a later time to seek vengeance for their demise. Otherwise, they pass on to the afterlife. In either case, their burning anger towards the possessor knocks the player character down to 1 hit point.

There is no limit to how long a host can be possessed. However, once a Possessor Spirit leaves a body, that victim will have a +2 to any save made against future possession attempts. This bonus stacks with each successful possession.

Dan D’s Response to “Clerics as Anti-Magicians”

Way back in January I wrote Clerics as Anti-Magicians. It’s my (latest) attempt to rehabilitate the class; to turn it into something people will actually want to play. Personally, I think it’s one of my better posts, which is why it ended up in my hastily assembled list of “greatest hits” over on the sidebar.

Dan D, the blogger over at Throne of Salt apparently agrees. He’s taken it on himself to tinker with my version of the class to create a cleric for his own game. This is particularly interesting for me, because I’ve actually been working on my own update to that class. It’s nice to get another perspective just around the same time that I’ve decided to reevaluate.

There’s some parallel thinking, and some crossed wires between us. I don’t wanna dig into what I’m planning, but I think both Dan and I saw the problem with the cleric being too reactive. Dan’s cleric is generally more capable of taking assertive action than my original draft of the class.

I also like that Dan’s cleric has some social powers. That’s something I strongly considered doing myself, even in the first draft. “Priest” is an inherent persuasive occupation. The only reasons I didn’t do that myself are firstly that I’d already posted a couple social-focused classes; and secondly that I was aiming for broad appeal with that post. I didn’t want it to be limited to people who use a lot of social rolls in their games.

I will say Dan’s removal of all the anti-magic stuff doesn’t appeal to me. I suspect he may have been trying to prevent the class from becoming overpowered, but I don’t think being overpowered was ever the issue with my cleric. Also, it’s the mechanic that I literally named the class after, so obviously it’s near and dear to my heart.

(July 16th 2018 Edit: Dan has clarified the change was made for flavor reasons, rather than balance. )

I’m also not a fan of making players pick between nine different holy orders when they create their character. for reasons I’ve explained elsewhere. Different strokes for different folks, as they say.

So, my loyal minions, GO FORTH TO THIS PITIFUL BLOG THAT DARES TO UTTER MY NAME. DESTROY THE BLOGGER PEASANT. RETURN TO ME BATHED IN HIS BLOOD, AND I WILL BLESS YOU WITH A +2 TO YOUR NEXT SAVING THROW.


(Note: Please do not destroy Dan. Dan is a good dude. LS is joking about destroying people).

d100 Gobbobilities

With thanks to Justin Stewart of Dragons Gonna Drag for donating his time to proofread this post.

Even in rules-light D&D, players are expected to do a lot of bookkeeping. Tracking skills, spells, and other silly stuff can be tedious, which is why Gobbos exist. Gobbos have no use for books, or for keeping them. Gobbos have no levels, and thus gain no experience. Gobbos do not understand the value of money, and so collect no share of treasure. Think of Gobbos as hyperactive 6 year olds with a slightly greater capacity for murder.

The basic Gobbo has only two numbers to write down: their saving throw is 12. This works for every kind of save, and will never improve. Their armor rating is whatever your system’s base armor rating is. In LotFP, that’s also 12. Gobbos can’t wear any armor. If someone tries to put armor on them, they’ll complain about how heavy or itchy it is, and eventually squirm out of it when no one is looking, leaving bits and pieces of it everywhere.

When attacking, gobbos roll 1d20 without modification, and deal 1d6 damage regardless of the weapon they choose to wield. Exceptions might be made if the gobbos attempt to operate some kind of heavy artillery.

Gobbos have no hit points. Instead, when a gobbo gets hit, roll a d6. If the number rolled is greater than the amount of damage directed at them, they shrug the injury off. The damage is not recorded, it simply bounces off them. If they roll equal to or less than the incoming damage, their feelings are hurt. They will begin to cry, and are uselessly inconsolable until the next session.

If a gobbo falls into a bottomless pit, disintegrates, gets gobbled up by a monster, or is otherwise physically separated from the party, they’ll be gone until the next session. When they come back, they’ll have all sorts of stories about the adventures they went on.

Given their fragility and general ineffectiveness, players may play more than one gobbo simultaneously. Somewhere between 2 and 5 is probably the most fun. Given their general lack of combat effectiveness, there’s no need for every gobbo to act each round unless the player really wants them to. Just assume they’re in the background goofing off.

Each gobbo also has a single special ability, rolled on the table below.

DSC_0019
  1. Has a slightly fishy appearance. Able to breathe underwater, and swim like a mer-gobbo.
  2. Every real-time hour, the gobbo may ask god one dumb question. God is listening, and will answer honestly. However, they answer through the gobbo’s own mouth, in the gobbo’s own voice, so it really just sounds like the gobbo is talking to themselves.
  3. By expressing affection, the gobbo can cause a plant to grow and become healthy. By expressing hatred, the plant will wither and die. The process takes a few minutes. The gobbo cannot control the way in which the plant grows or dies, though other outside means may be employed.
  4. Able to talk to plants. Plants are very honest, but also rude. The gobbo tends to get in a lot of angry shouting arguments with them.
  5. Able to talk to animals. Animals have an animal understanding of the world around them. The gobbo frequently becomes frustrated at dealing with such stupid creatures.
  6. Able to talk to rocks. Rocks have very limited perception of the world around them, and are sooooooo boring to talk to. Ugh!
  7. Sneaky little bastard has the second best stealth skill possible in your game system. (5-in-6 for LotFP)
  8. Attacks with a +8 to their roll, and deals 1d8 damage. That counts regardless of whether they’re using a real weapon or not.
  9. Each night, while sleepwalking, they make grenades. The gobbo has no idea how to make grenades while they’re awake, but they carry around a sack of the things with a d6 exhaustion die. (Each time a grenade is pulled out, roll a d6. If a 1 is rolled, there’s only one grenade left). The grenades deal 2d6 damage in a 5′ radius. No attack roll needed, but targets may make a saving throw versus Breath for half damage.
  10. When attacking from hiding, the gobbo gets a +10 to their attack roll, and multiplies their damage by 5.
  11. Roll a first level clerical spell from the table of your choice, whether or not you allow clerics in your game. The gobbo gains that spell as a natural ability, usable at-will for non-healing spells, or once-per-day if the spell heals something.
  12. Roll a first level magic user spell. The gobbo gains that spell as a natural ability.
  13. When they bite someone, it’s damn near impossible to get them off until they want to be gotten off. No attack roll needed, however the victim may make a saving throw versus paralyzation to avoid. While latched on, the gobbo may hinder any action their victim wishes to take, so long as their victim isn’t super huge or anything. This won’t really work on a godzilla. If their victim is fleeing, the gobbo can remain attached as long as they want, then return next session to tell the party where the person got off to.
  14. Instead of rolling a d6 when the gobbo is hit in combat, roll a d12 + 2.
  15. Runs really fast. Like, heckin’ fast. 10 times as fast as normal characters. No joke.
  16. Their feet are both buoyant, and covered in hardy callouses! They can walk on water, on lava, on acid, on basically any liquid no matter how harmful it would normally be.
  17. Has flaps of skin which allow it to glide down from high places. Or, if there’s enough wind, to fly like a kite.
  18. Cannot be bound. Any bond they are placed in, they can slip out of whenever they wish. It doesn’t matter how impossibly secure their prison is, they will break the laws of physics if need be.
  19. Able to squeeze themselves through any opening, so long as a normal human could fit their pinky finger into it.
  20. Has a seemingly infinite supply of rubber bands and paper airplanes, and is shockingly accurate aim with them.
  21. A particular talent for throwing things. Anything this gobbo can heft, they can throw with nigh-perfect accuracy, up to 30′. (More if they can get up above their target and throw down at it.) To hit an unmoving, man-sized target, roll an attack roll against an armor rating of 5. Modify up or down for smaller or larger targets. Moving targets use whatever their normal armor rating would be, minus 2.
  22. Completely immune to falling damage. Always land on their feet.
  23. For whatever reason, their antics come off as charming. Anytime the party makes a social roll, the gobbo can do some goofy shit to lend them a bonus to that roll.
  24. Instead of having a saving throw of 12, this gobbo has a saving throw of 5. Again, this is good no matter what saving throw is called for.
  25. Completely immune to magic of any kind.
  26. Has a weird knack for tripping people. Whoever they decide to trip must make a saving throw versus paralyzation or fall prone. If the gobbo comes up with something clever, they might even be able to attempt tripping multiple people at once this way.
  27. Can teleport at will to anywhere within their light of sight, leaving a puff of smoke and a “BUMF!” sound behind them.
  28. Can choose to emit any color of light they want from their eyes, at any intensity they desire. Good for creating spooky eyes in the dark, looking for hidden ink, illuminating a room, or even blinding foes.
  29. Has corrosive drool, which quickly rotted away all of their teeth. By gumming on just about anything for a minute or so, they can reduce it to unrecognizable slag.
  30. Able to transform themselves into a bat at will. They tell people their dad was a vampire.
  31. They’re crazy good at eavesdropping. If they’re not supposed to hear something (such as some monsters plotting their doom behind a door), they’ll hear it from a mile away.
  32. Kids are naturally drawn to them. Any kid this gobbo meets will become fast friends, with a whole series of weird games and inside jokes. This even extends to newborn babies, which the gobbo has an uncanny ability to understand.
  33. Parents are naturally drawn to them. Anyone with a child will have their paternal instincts kicked into overdrive by the sight of this gobbo. They’ll want to make sure this lil’ guy is fed and clothed and feels happy and safe.
  34. The gobbo has an uncanny knack for stupid stunts. The more terrible consequences will result from failure, the better. Once the stunt has been described (after a few “make it dumber!” demands from the referee), roll a d6. There’s a 4-in-6 chance the stunt succeeds. On failure, the gobbo injures themselves to the point of crying inconsolably until the next session.
  35. Knows just what to say to turn two people against one another. Any lie told about a person who is not present has a 4-in-6 chance of being believed. If the lie fails, the Gobbo feels chagrined enough that the player must wait 1 real-time hour before they attempt this trick again.
  36. The gobbo’s boogers are sticky. Like, aerospace-grade adhesive. Only the gobbo’s own skin oils are capable of touching one of its boogers without getting stuck.
  37. A long mop of greasy hair grows from the gobbo’s scalp. By wringing the hair out, the gobbo can produce a pungent lubricant that is slippery as hell, and difficult to wash away.
  38. With a twist and a backwards jump, the gobbo is able to instantaneously shed its skin, leaving a translucent statue of itself behind in whatever pose they desire. The skin quickly dries out and becomes rigid enough to support twice the gobbo’s body weight.
  39. Skin is puckered with unnaturally large pores. At will, their body acts like a sponge, absorbing any liquid they’re immersed in. Later, this can be excreted by the gobbo in a single splash from all their pores at once, or in a stream from one of their body’s orifices. Careful not to absorb too much, or you won’t be able to move!
  40. Able to climb any surface, like a spider.
  41. Can burrow through the earth like a mole, with the same movement speed it would have moving on foot. Also works for excavating large spaces at a rate of 10′ cubed per turn.
  42. Forgeries this gobbo makes will fool the first person who examines them, but never anyone else. They’re made with crayons and spit, so it’s a mystery why they fool anyone at all.
  43. The nose of a bloodhound. They can parse smells better than any human, extracting a surprising amount of information just from sniffing the air.
  44. Able to take magic into their body, and redirect it back out again. They have a 3-in-6 chance of success if they want to reflect it back towards the caster, 2-in-6 if they want to direct it elsewhere. On failure, they’re affected by it normally. Ability only works if they know they’re the target of a spell.
  45. This gobbo is a bit of a blank slate. It just follows its companions around, going along with what the other gobbos want. If it is directed to bite someone, that person’s body will go limp, and their mind will be placed in this gobbo’s body. Only willing or immobilized characters can be bitten in this way. The player of the gobbo, and the player of whomever the gobbo bit, must work together to decide what that the new combined character does. The bit character can return to their own body at any time by biting it again.
  46. Snot bubble hot air balloons allow this gobbo to float up into the air and fly around on the breeze.
  47. Dead creatures will obey a single command given by this gobbo. To the gobbo, it seems totally natural and not creepy at all that dead people do favors for him. What is neh-kro-macy?
  48. Has a mighty sneeze attack. On a successful attack, the targeted enemy within 15′ is pushed back 10′, and must make a saving throw versus poison to avoid getting sick. Sick characters spend a few minutes sneezing, a few minutes vomiting, and a few minutes shivering in the fetal position uncontrollably. The whole disease runs its course in about 10 minutes.
  49. Has the stinkiest poops of all. There is no quicker way to clear a room than to put one of this gobbo’s poops in it. No one with a sense of smell can willingly be within smelling distance of this poop. The gobbo only poops once per game day, and after 24 hrs its poops dry out and lose all smelliness. Making jenkems with this gobbo’s poop will FUCK YOU UP.
  50. Has phenomenal artistic talent. Painting, sculpture, music, film, as-yet uninvented media, they have an uncanny knack for just about everything.
  51. A perfect catcher. They can catch anything, without fail. They can catch bullets, intercepting 1 projectile each round. Objects too large for the gobbo to reasonably hold may cause some issue, though they can still technically be caught.
  52. Once per real-time hour, this gobbo can go rummaging in any heap of detritus nearby, and emerge with something useful. The referee is the final arbiter on what is discovered, but everyone at the table is encouraged to make suggestions. It will never be a unique item (such as the key to a door the players wish to bypass), or will it ever be a particularly valuable item. Just something that would help the party at this particular moment.
  53. A weird, lucky, savant. This gobbo has a modest chance to succeed with every skill in the game. (Using LotFP, a modest chance would be 2-in-6).
  54. Able to vomit up a yellowish cement-like substance on command. Enough to form a 2′ by 2′ square in 1 minute.
  55. Has a completely encyclopedic knowledge of bugs. If it’s even vaguely bug related, this Gobbo will have some kind of useful info to share.
  56. Has a completely encyclopedic knowledge of fungus and slime. If it’s even vaguely fungus or slime related, this Gobbo will have some kind of useful info to share.
  57. Has a completely encyclopedic knowledge of pop culture. If it’s even vaguely related to pop culture, this Gobbo will have some kind of useful info to share.
  58. Has an incredible ability to ride things. Any action which can reasonably be described as “riding,” or as an element of riding has a 5-in-6 chance of success.
  59. They’re so good at playing pretend that they create minor illusions of whatever they’re imagining. They must be able to catch the attention of the people they wish to fool, but anything they describe happening will appear to happen: sight, sound, and smell.
  60. Plays a scary version of peek-a-boo. The gobbo picks a person or thing to play with, then covers their eyes. Their target must make a saving throw versus magic. On a failed throw, it will cease to exist for as long as the gobbo keeps its eyes covered with both hands.
  61. The gobbo has a bottomless belly pouch. Like a kangaroo, except they don’t keep babies in there. They keep their junk. The gobbo will only hold on to items which are their own personal property. They won’t carry things for the rest of the party.
  62. Hard headed enough that a good bash can knock in just about any normal door. Heck, give the gobbo 3 minutes and they’ll smash a hole in a stone wall for you.
  63. The gobbo has a superb sense of direction. They always know, even if it seems impossible, what the shortest route to the exit is. They’ll never lead down any dead ends, though they may get sidetracked and lead the party to something only they think would be fun.
  64. When playing hide and seek, there is no better hider than this. One moment you’re looking right at them, then you blink, and suddenly they’re gone. The gobbo must specify where they’re hiding, and it must be within a the same room or at least nearby, but for all intents and purposes they are able to teleport themselves into hiding.
  65. Has an enduring love for playing dress up. Give them a pile of junk and 10 minutes, and they’ll have everyone they know outfitted with a dapper new disguise fit to fool their own mothers.
  66. A skilled whistler, to the point that they annoy everyone with their high-pitched tweeting. If they really try, they can actually perform a sonic attack with their whistling, shattering any glass, ceramic, or crystal within 30′ that they aim their lips at. May require a to-hit roll for particularly small, obscured, or moving targets.
  67. Good at picking pockets, performing magic tricks, wrestling stuff out of people’s hands, and otherwise being digitally dexterous. In LotFP terms, they have a 6-in-6 for Sleight of Hand.
  68. Has a knack for getting doors open or getting machines to work. Essentially a 6-in-6 for Tinkering.
  69. Is absolutely delicious. Any creature with the intent to eat living meat will be instantly attracted to the succulent smells of this gobbo. Even those not normally inclined to such acts may be tempted. Once eaten, the imbiber must make a saving throw versus poison or get food poisoning. They’ll have no time to do anything other than poop their guts out for the next 24 hours. Miraculously, no matter how much they chewed, the gobbo will emerge fully re-formed within a few hours at the most.
  70. Able to vomit voluminously on command. After they vomit, everyone who sees them must make a saving throw versus poison, or they will also barf.
  71. Restorative drool, which can seal up wounds and mend broken limbs. Able to produce enough drool to restore 10 hit points each day.
  72. Has a perfect memory. They’re able to quote anything they’ve heard, without error, in an exact imitation of the voices they heard it in. Moreover, they’re able to draw, with exquisite detail, anything they’ve ever seen. These skills only apply when recalling something. They have no particular talent for voices or for art otherwise.
  73. Nobody throws a tantrum like this goblin. When something is taken from them, or they are denied something they want, they’re able to go absolutely BERSERK. 20 strength! 25 strength! 100 strength! Immune to damage! Punch for 3d12 damage! The state lasts for 1 minute, and can only occur once per session. Be warned: the gobbo’s rage will be directed towards whoever took from them / denied them, so don’t go activating their rage and hoping they’ll turn it against your foes.
  74. Farts lightning bolts which deal 6d6 damage in a 60′ line straight out from their butt. Only has a 1-in-6 chance of being able to fart on command. 2 in 6 if they’ve consumed some bubbly beverage recently.
  75. Has an intuitive understanding of modern technology, enabling them to use it with ease, even if they don’t know how to tie their shoe. Works with whatever technology is “modern” in your setting. Gobbo will refer to anyone who can’t keep up with their technical know-how as a “Grandpa.”
  76. By concentrating and straining really super hard, this gobbo’s body becomes mysteriously heavier, and heavier, and heavier. After about 10 minutes they can get to a max weight of a few tons without any change in their size or shape. No complicated actions may be performed while heavy. Popping back to normal weight is instantaneous when the gobbo stops concentrating.
  77. The gobbo’s farts make such hilarious sounds that everyone who can hear them must make a saving throw versus Magic or be consumed with laughter. -1 to their save if they’re close enough to smell it too. Victims may attempt a new save each round to regain control of themselves, with a cumulative +3 each round.
  78. Anything that relies on pure dumb luck is double-weighted in this gobbo’s favor. For example, if the gobbo calls a coin flip in the air, it has a 75% chance of landing on the side they called. This works only for diegetic randomness like gambling, not for meta game randomness like attack rolls or skill checks.
  79. Once per session this gobbo may declare that someone is lying, and it will be true. If necessary, the referee must bend reality to accommodate the fact of this lie. If they really, really, really want to, the referee may tell the gobbo that they are wrong, and that this person was not lying. However, the gobbo will now be able to use their ability twice this session.
  80. By yelling stuff like “Stop being dumb!” and “Just do it!” the Gobbo has a mysterious ability to actually make people better at whatever they’re doing. Not enough to add any bonuses to rolls, but enough to make failure a little less bad than it would normally be. (None the less, if you fail, the gobbo will probably lambast you for not listening to them when they told you to do it right.) Giving this sort of “encouragement” precludes any other action being taken by the gobbo. (They cannot attack the same round, or “encourage” two people at once).
  81. If the gobbo shouts “GO AWAY! I HATE YOU!” at someone, then that person must make a saving throw. On failure, they must go away, knowing they are hated. The gobbo may only emotionally manipulate one person at a time.
  82. This gobbo carries around hand puppets of various styles. For whatever reason, these puppets are perceived to be real people by anyone who sees the gobbo manipulate them. Not specific real people, mind you. The gobbo cannot make someone believe the puppet is their mother. However, any words said by the puppets, or actions taken by them, will be perceived as the actions of a living individual.
  83. By rubbing its grubby face on stuff, the gobbo can leave an imprint of its face. The gobbo is able to see, smell, hear, and speak through this face. Until a face is erased, the gobbo cannot stop receiving sensory information from it, which is annoying. Leaving more than a few faces out in the world will give the gobbo a serious headache.
  84. Has a big ol’ horn. It’s a foot long, rigid, with a needle-sharp tip and one knife-like edge. At will, the gobbo can retract the horn into its body, and cause it to pop back out anywhere it likes. It can have a horn sprouting from its forehead, or its stomach, its left butt cheek, or from in between two of its toes.
  85. Able to collapse into a puddle of slime, oozing around, moving only across level surfaces or downhill. It takes about 10 minutes to reform.
  86. With innocent-sounding questions and doe eyed looks, this gobbo can force a target to make a saving throw against shame. On failure, the victim must reconsider their behavior, or at least work much harder to hide it. Works only if the target is doing something the average person wouldn’t want a child to know about.
  87. Whenever they want, the gobbo can grow big big BIG! Fifteen feet tall, with speed and power to match! For every minute the gobbo spends being big, they must spend an hour sleeping immediately after to recover their energy.
  88. Through the use of the mighty Double Dog Dare, this gobbo can force people to make a save versus Magic, or obey the gobbo’s command. If they make their save, they may dare the gobbo to do something, which the gobbo must do. No save.
  89. Is a very good goalie. Crazy good. If this gobbo decides they don’t want someone to get past them, they basically function as a 10′ by 10′ invisible wall. Nobody will expect them to be as capable a blocker as they are.
  90. With a parting of their hands, the gobbo can part just about anything as if they were Moses or some junk. Water, bushes, crowds, walls, etc. Every 30 seconds, the gobbo must roll a saving throw to avoid getting distracted. If they get distracted, whatever they parted will collapse.
  91. An endless supply of teeth. Each one yanked out will be replaced by another within a half hour. Teeth can be spit out like bullets, left on the ground like caltrops, and probably used in all sorts of other horrible ways.
  92. When the gobbo yawns, the response is more than contagious. Everyone nearby (including friends) must make a saving throw or fall asleep. The yawning gobbo themselves doesn’t get a save. They always fall asleep, and they’re a heavy gosh dang sleeper.
  93. This gobbo is a tattle tale. They have a sort of divination which allows them to know one bad thing that a person has done. This works only once per person, PC or NPC alike.
  94. Any part of their body can be detached. Though separate from the body, it will communicate sensation, and act according to the gobbo’s thoughts as normal. Detached bits must be recovered and snapped back into place, they cannot grow back.
  95. This gobbo is a picky eater. If they can fit an object in their mouth, they’ll instantly know everything that is wrong with it. Whether it’s cursed, poisoned, whether some evil dude had it once, or wants to claim it, everything. This ability cannot be used to divine any nice information.
  96. Through relentless teasing, this gobbo can force an enemy to focus entirely on them during combat. There is no save against this unless the foe has a strong reason to ignore the gobbo’s taunts, such as a commander shouting at them.
  97. Any trick the player describes which can feasibly be performed without hands has a 4-in-6 chance of success. The gobbo will probably shout at members of the party to look at them while they do whatever they’re doing, and will always boast that they’re not using their hands. Note that picking locks or wielding weapons with one’s feet is not considered “feasible” for the purposes of this ability.
  98. By climbing on top of something, the gobbo instantly makes the floor around whatever they’re standing on as hot as lava. The effect moves along with the gobbo as they climb across chairs and tables to avoid falling in, so that they’re always at risk of falling in. If the gobbo intentionally jumps down, the effect ends.
  99. A gosh danged savant when it comes to setting up practical jokes and home-alone style traps. So long as they have the most important elements, they can set up even the most complex of Rube-Goldbergian contraptions in the space of a minute. Minor elements, like pulleys and bits of string, have a way of simply being around when this gobbo has need of them.
  100. Of all gobbos, this one is the undisputed master of “I’m not touching you.” This gobbo never touches anything it doesn’t wanna touch. Pressure plates? Not happening. Complicated laser grid? No problem. If they want to, they can even walk with their feet an inch off the floor, or swim with a thin layer of air between the water and their skin. They still gotta breathe and be warm, though, so they gotta touch the air.

LotFP Class: Warlock

People act as though making deals with devils is so damned dangerous. Devils are an embodiment of cosmic law. They’re constitutionally incapable of breaking their word. So long as you don’t agree to something stupid, you’re fine. Making deals with demons is a whole other thing. It takes a particularly self destructive kind of crazy to become a warlock.

Warlocks use the same experience track as the elf, with the saves and hit dice of a magic user.

Becoming a warlock requires the ritual breaking of a sacred oath: the dissolution of a marriage, stealing from one’s host, etcetera. Once this ritual is complete the supplicant may never again bind themselves by their word. If a warlock keeps an oath against their best interests they will not only lose their powers, but must make a saving throw or die. This does not mean a warlock can never make or keep agreements, merely that they can never consider those agreements binding. If a farmer offers 10 coins to rescue their child, the Warlock may do so. However, if the ogre makes a counter offer of 15 coins to let them eat the child in peace, the Warlock should take that deal.

In exchange for making themselves  an embodiment of treachery warlocks receive three demonic boons: the Baleful Whisper the service of a Warlockin, and the ability to bestow Breefs & Feckets.

By giving voice to their many hatreds, warlocks can create a breeze of cursed air called a Baleful Whisper. This functions like a ranged attack with increments of 20’/50’/80′. Only unsuspecting targets, those which could be sneak attacked, are vulnerable. On a successful hit the target takes 1d6 damage. This increases to 2d6 at level 3, with an additional d6 on every third level thereafter.

Warlockin are minor demons that take the form of ugly, 18-inch tall humans. Against their will they are bound to obey the warlock in all things. They are hostile creatures who will attempt to subvert their master’s will whenever possible. Instructions must be phrased clearly, and even then the creature is liable to “forget” certain aspects of their orders if left unsupervised.

Warlockin share their master’s saving throws, and have 1 hit point for each level of the warlock they serve. Due to their size and agility their armor rating is equivalent to plate and shield. In most respects a warlockin has all the abilities and limitations you would imagine an 18 inch person would have, with a single exception the player rolls during character creation:

  1. Wings, and the ability to fly with them.
  2. At will, their touch can set fire to anything flammable.
  3. Able to impersonate any voice they hear with perfect accuracy.
  4. Can turn invisible at will.
  5. Able to communicate telepathically, though they cannot pull any information from a person’s mind that is not intentionally directed towards them.
  6. They have perfect dark vision.
  7. Can create illusions at will. Images only, no sound or touch, and covering no more than a 10 foot square area. The illusion must be actively maintained and controlled while it exists.
  8. Despite their diminutive size, they have the strength of an average adult human. Their size relative to the world should still be taken into account.
  9. Able to poison any food by licking it.
  10. Whenever their master wills it, the warlockin’s vitality can be sapped away. Hit points extracted from the warlockin may be used to heal the warlock themselves, or anyone they are touching when they use this power.
  11. By burrowing into the body of an animal, the warlockin is able to control it. This only works on creatures large enough for the warlockin to fit inside of.
  12. By blowing a kiss, the warlockin can inflict a sour disposition on a person, putting them in a foul mood for a few hours. A saving throw versus magic resists.

Warlockin cannot die. If they are reduced to 0 hit points, their body is completely destroyed in some suitably dramatic fashion. Perhaps they disintegrate and blow away in the wind, or burst into flames, or collapse into a puddle of slime. Whatever feels right to the referee in the moment. D6 hours after they are destroyed, the warlockin will emerge, fully restored, from their master’s body. The means by which they emerge is entirely up to the warlockin, and is often used as a means of getting back at their master for allowing them to die. They may emerge through vomit, painful excretions, or even by bursting through the skin in a bloody gory mess. The process requires 10 minutes, and cannot be delayed by the warlock. When it happens, it happens. Fortunately, any damage suffered during the warlockin’s rebirth will quickly heal itself within that same time.

Warlocks do not cast spells. Instead they bestow Feckets on themselves, and Breefs on their foes. Unlike spells these magics may be employed both stealthily and instantaneously. They require no preparation, no spoken words, and only the most subtle gestures. In combat using them is a free action, though only a single attempt may be made each round. The downside is that only one fecket or breef may be active at a time. Bestowing a new one causes any previously bestowed magic to unravel.

At character creation the player chooses whether to start off knowing a fecket or a breef, then rolls on the appropriate table. Each time they gain a level they learn a new magic by rolling on alternating tables. So: if the player opts to roll a breef at first level, they will roll a fecket at second level, and all even-numbered levels thereafter, while breefs will be learned at odd-numbered levels.

Breefs
Bestowed upon foes to weaken and befuddle them. The warlock may target a number of foes equal to their level, so long as all their targets are within their field of view simultaneously. A successful saving throw versus Magic resists the effect.

  1. Tanglefoot Targets become prone to tripping. Any time they move more than 5′ in a round, there is a 4-in-6 chance they fall prone. If they move more than half their movement speed, the chance is 5-in-6.
  2. Noodlelimbs Targets’ strength is reduced to the equivalent of a 7 year old child. Anything which would be difficult to push or lift or carry becomes completely impossible for them. They also suffer a -3 on melee attacks.
  3. Sloppymouth Causes words to be flubbed to the point of incomprehensibility. Makes spellcasting very difficult.
  4. DitzyWitzy Targets forget their motivation for whatever their current goal is. If they are searching, they will forget what they’re looking for. If they’re attacking, they’ll forget what brought them to that point. It doesn’t necessarily mean they’ll stop, though.
  5. Passionbound Emotions become difficult or impossible to suppress. If the target is angry, they will become violent; if they are frightened they will flee; if they are sad they will weep, and so forth.
  6. Fumblehands There is a 1-in-6 chance that the target will drop anything they’re carrying each increment of the current timescale. (In combat, rounds; in exploration, turns; etc). This chance is modified up for any activity the target undertakes which is not standing still and focusing on holding the item. Walking with it shifts the chance up to 2-in-6, running to 3-in-6, climbing or acting to 4-in-6, etc.
  7. Cowardheart The target becomes easily intimidated by anything that seems threatening. They may flee, or cower, or bargain, according to their disposition.
  8. Blindwander The victim loses any sense of direction. If they walk into a dungeon room that only has a single other door, unless the doors look dramatically different, they will not be able to tell which of the two they came in through.
  9. Recallnot Victims will not remember anything that happens while under this effect. They retain their ability to think and act normally, but later they’ll discover a gap in their recollections.
  10. Obeisance It will seem impossible to disobey any authority which appears legitimate to the victim. If there is a sign which reads “keep off the grass,” then the grass cannot be walked on. A police badge doesn’t become a magic talisman that allows them to be mind controlled, however. They must really believe the person with the badge is an officer, and that the officer is acting within their legal authority.
  11. Thundersubtle The affected thump around wherever they walk, muttering out loud about whatever is going through their mind. They’re bad at lying, sneaking, or generally doing anything without telegraphing it to everyone around them.
  12. Friendfaced The victim is predisposed to like the warlock. They’ll generally interpret the warlock’s behavior positively, though only within reason. Treat it like running into a guy wearing a T-shirt of your favorite obscure band that nobody else likes.

Feckets

  1. Farstride Each step the warlock takes covers a vast swath of ground. It takes about 10 minutes to walk 6 miles, which can be fairly disorienting. You never quite stop where you want to. Roll 1d6 – 1 to determine how many miles from your desired stopping point your are. Dangerous to attempt indoors.
  2. Greatmight The warlock gains incredible physical strength, enabling them to lift castle gates or toss their foes about like fukkin’ Conan. For melee combat purposes, treat as max strength.
  3. Airstroke Enables the warlock to swim through the air as though it were water. It is not a particularly fast process, but does allow the warlock to position themselves wherever they like in vertical space.
  4. Blankspace The warlock becomes a magical void. Spells cannot affect them, and any magic items they touch cannot be activated.
  5. Noticemenot The warlock becomes more difficult to notice. In addition to being simply better at stealth and sleight of hand checks (bonus of 3, up to max skill), people will just find their attention drifting away from the warlock. Other things will just seem more important.
  6. Feelingfine While active the warlock will not get any hungrier, thirstier, or sleepier than they already are. Furthermore, they do not need to breathe, and will feel comfortable in both extreme heat and extreme cold, so long as the temperatures are within a range that some natural animal could live in. Tardigrades don’t count.
  7. Falseface The warlock is able to modify their appearance however they like, so long as they still appear to be a human of roughly the same size.
  8. Venomteeth The warlock gains a poisonous bite, causing sleep or death as they prefer. Note that biting people is generally not an easy thing to do.
  9. Luckyloo While active, the warlock gains a +3 to all of their saving throws.
  10. Locoscient While active, the warlock’s senses are heightened. Their mind is able to process visual information more rapidly, such that if they were looking for a particular person in a crowd, a single glance would be sufficient to pick them out. They can smell and hear with the acuity of a dog, detect vibrations like a blind guy in a bad kung fu movie, and taste the way wine snobs pretend to.
  11. Bething The warlock merges with any inanimate object large enough to contain them (even if they would not typically fit into its shape). Stuff like trees, walls, statues, etc. While merged, they retain access to their senses.
  12. Unphysicality The warlock becomes incorporeal. Their appearance does not change (they do not become transluscent), but they cannot interact with the physical world. Whenever an object passes through them, or they pass through an object, it makes a loud “b’zorp” sound.


This is a photograph of my old whiteboards. I’d guess it was taken between October 24th and October 26th of 2011. If you look at the to-do list on the upper board, one line reads: “Warlock upgrade for Pathfinder + WoW ‘Lock. They can be the same project.” So, in October of 2011 I’d already been thinking about writing a Warlock class long enough to decide I wanted to merge it with another project.

You may be thinking the class described above doesn’t justify 7 years of buildup. Which…yeah, duh. When you leave something on the back burner for too long, it burns. The right time to do this was in 2011, but sometimes projects fall the wayside. Unlike most of the stuff I never got around to in 2011, however, the desire to make a warlock class has stuck with me.

I was 17 in 2004 when WotC published “Complete Arcane.” Amidst all the typical splatbook junk was a new class that appealed to me: the Warlock. I named mine Zalekios, and he would eventually become my longest running D&D character. A record which stands to this day. The Zalekios campaign inspired many of my early D&D tinkerings.

In 2007 my friends tricked me into playing World of Warcraft. I rolled a human warlock named Sentaigresk. Playing this character would lead to me doing the first serious writing of my life, which in turn got me my first paid writing gig. It’s also while playing Sentai that I met the lady I’m getting married to later this year.

The choices were made trivially at the time: just a D&D character, just a video game class. Now I’m 30 and a ton of my personal history is tied up with warlocks of one flavor or another. In 2011 all I wanted was to update the 3.5 class so I could convince Zalekios’ referee to switch to Pathfinder. I did all sorts of research into folklore, which is where terms like “breef,” “fecket,” and “warlockin” come from.

Unfortunately, in 2011 I was writing 5 blog posts a week, and I was rushing to put them together in the hours between work and sleep. There wasn’t room for a project as large as creating a Pathfinder class. By the time I could handle that sort of project, the Zalekios campaign was long dead.

I recently set myself the task of clearing out some of the older stuff in my drafts folder, and the oldest post by far was this one. Almost nothing of my original work remains, but I’m glad to finally get my version of the Warlock out there. Or at least, some version of my version.

Blogging is fun.