The second in my continuing series on the 1979 Dungeon Master’s Guide, written by Gary Gygax. This post begins with the section “Money” on page 25, and continues through Loyalty of Henchmen and Allied Creatures on page 37. You can see the first post in this series here.
Player Character Expenses Gary recommends that players be forced to spend a certain amount of gold each month on general upkeep. This covers all the numerous costs which are too painstaking to track during the game itself: the cost of meals, lodging, ale, minor tools, etc. This is something which actually exists in Pathfinder. You can find it under “Cost of Living,” on page 405 of the Core Rulebook. In many ways, I think the Pathfinder system is more elegant than Gary’s, but I’ve never heard of anyone actually using it. I’ve even failed to implement it myself. That’s something I need to improve on.
Reputed Magical Properties of Gems Every edition the game has some type of list which itemizes the various values of gems, but I love that Gygax devoted half of a page to explaining the type of magic each gem is related to. I can’t speak for the historical accuracy of the list, but gems and other precious stones have been said to have magical properties throughout history. Gygax specifically states that simply owning a stone does not grant any magical benefit. Rather, the purpose of the list is to give game masters a frame of reference they can draw from when creating magical items. If an NPC gives the party a magical stone to ward off a curse, then the GM can make the stone Topaz, whereas if a wizard wants to make a Ring of Guile, the GM can require them to hunt down some Serpentine.
Helmets A common argument in the tabletop community centers around helmets. Some think they should add to a player’s armor class, while others (including myself) argue that a helmet is part of whatever armor the player is already wearing. If anything, players should receive an AC penalty for not using a helmet! Gygax takes an interesting position on this issue: if no helmet is worn, then roll a d6 along with each attack roll. If a 1 is rolled (1-3 for intelligent creatures) then the head is attacked directly, and it only has AC 10.
Dexterity Armor Class Bonus I find it very interesting that the 1st edition AD&D rules say that a character wearing heavy armor does not lose their dexterity bonus to their Armor Class. The restrictions on players are generally more harsh in older editions than they are in newer ones. But perhaps I’m simply misunderstanding because I lack a proper background in how Armor Class worked during this era.
Hirelings There is a lot of emphasis placed on the search for hirelings, and bartering with them for their services. I find this idea intriguing. As a player, I imagine that once I’ve established a stronghold, I’ll try to recruit NPCs I meet during my adventures to come work for me. If I meet a city guard or blacksmith I like, I offer them a sum of money to come live in my stronghold, and spend their days guarding my treasure, or making my weapons. As a GM, I imagine each NPC added to the player’s stronghold as a possible adventure hook. Maybe the blacksmith has a gambling debt, and somebody will come to collect on it. Maybe the city guard is a deserter from a massive army which demands the players turn him over.
Sages I don’t recall when I first encountered the concept of sages–wise and elderly keepers of knowledge. But from the first time I heard about them, I was fascinated. There’s something romantic about the life of a scholar, and I’ve always enjoyed having my players encounter them. For a long time now, I’ve allowed players who fail a knowledge check by 10 or less to know of a sage who can answer their question. But I’ve always been interested to know more about the oldschool origins of these characters. And Gygax did not disappoint me. Very few topics have received three full pages worth of coverage in the DMG so far, so I’m quite happy! There’s a lot of information on how to randomly generate a sage’s fields of knowledge. And I particularly like the idea of hiring a sage, and having permanent access to their immense knowledge on a given topic.
How would you utilize a sage within your stronghold who knew everything there is to know about, let’s say, birds? It might seem useless, but I’ve found that “useless” resources can be a huge benefit, if you figure out how to use them properly. Perhaps this sage could advise you of a method to coax carrier birds to land in your citadel, and allow you to intercept messages from other kingdoms. Or maybe their knowledge could provide the fortress with a source of food during a long siege?
Henchmen I’ve never been at all satisfied with the way D&D 3.x/Pathfinder handle followers. The leadership feat has always struck me as clunky and difficult to use, so I’ve been surprised to learn how differently followers were handled in older editions of the game. Rather than being an obscure ability which only a few players will pursue, it seems as though Gygax expected every player to eventually acquire a few NPC hangers-on. The system for recruiting them is a great deal more advanced, detailed, and elegant than the one presented in Pathfinder. I particularly like the fact that a full page is devoted to calculating a creature’s loyalty. The extremely simple loyalty system described in the Leadership feat has never sat well with me.
The comparison between oldschool and modern methods of attracting followers is something I would like to go into in more detail, but it will require a full post to do so. I’ll hold off on that for now.
Favorite Quotes from this Section
“Such short-term employment cannot last beyond one week’s time, and the sage will thereafter not be available for at least one game month — as there are more important and constructive things to be done than answering foolish questions, anyway!” -Gygax, DMG, Page 33
“Thus, suppose a sage is asked a question out of any of his or her fields of knowledge. If the question is of general nature, the sage will hedge and talk around the point, or just possibly sit and look wise for 4-6 rounds before answering that the question is beyond his or her learning…” -Gygax, DMG, Page 33
Someday, I want to get paid for this. Not necessarily for writing Papers & Pencils itself, mind you. I somehow doubt I’ll ever have the readership required to make advertisements a profitable endeavor. But I’d like to make a living off of writing or game design, or some combination of the two. I like to think that putting myself out there with this website is the first step in that quest, even if it is the first step of many I’ll need to take. Another step I’m working on is educating myself. I’m trying to take an academic approach to learning about games and game design. I read and analyze anything which seems as though it will help me traverse the long road towards a career I can be proud of.
I’ve noticed that many of the most renowned game designers – Gary Gygax, Dave Arneson, Steve Jackson – have been students of military history, and credited that knowledge with helping them in designing games. It seemed only prudent, then, that I should investigate this field of study to see what it had to offer. So while I was grocery shopping this past weekend, I picked up a copy of the June 2012 issue of “Military Heritage” magazine. It seemed like an inexpensive way to take my first glimpse at the subject, to see what I could see.
Most of the magazine deals with more contemporary wars, where firearms are used. Personally I’m much more intrigued in the medieval period, but there is a feature entitled “Fight in the Fog: Vercellae 101 BC,” which is more relevant to my interests. And the modern information is certainly not out of place. In many ways, a war fought with fantasy elements is more like a modern war than a medieval one. Wizards, elven archers, and dragons stand in for heavy artillery, machine guns, and aircraft.
One of the magazine’s regular features, “weapons,” is a fascinating piece on tanks. I won’t attempt to reproduce all of the information here, but the essential tale is about the first time tanks appeared on the battlefield, in World War I. When the British deployed them against the Germans, the Germans were understandably intimidated. The article covers the early German attempts to defeat this new technology, and gauges their success. Some tactics (such as strapping 7 grenades together) were quite dangerous to the soldier attempting to employ them, while others which seemed like a good idea (such as digging hidden pits for tanks to fall into) proved to be completely useless due to unforeseen elements. The article also covers many of the failings of early tanks which gave the Germans a fighting chance. For one, since tanks tended to draw a lot of fire, it was impossible for them to maintain an infantry escort. Another example given is that a foolish engineer once attached a supplemental fuel tank to the armored vehicle’s topside to give it increased range. What he didn’t anticipate is that this additional fuel was vulnerable to enemy fire, and a number of tank crews were incinerated due to that engineer’s poor judgement.
It was when I was reading this article that at least one use for this information crystallized for me. Here are real life examples of people trying new things in dangerous situations, and real life examples of other people trying to counter them. If my players engineered a tank, would my monsters counter with antitank mines, armor piercing bullets, or flooding the battlefield to mire the tanks? They probably should. When players come up with a crazy plan, the GM’s response to it should be just as clever. Because intelligent creatures will always find remarkably inventive methods of perseverance.
The “Fight in the Fog” feature has a lot of similarly relevant information. For example, it describes how the Roman forces built a bridge across the Po River to provide support to their forward troops, and how their enemy ripped a bunch of trees down and floated them downriver to destroy the bridge. A little later, it describes how the Roman commander modified the design of his army’s spears by replacing an iron peg with a wooden one. This caused the spear to off in the enemy shields, causing the shields to become too unwieldy to use, and forcing the enemy to fight shield-less.
I have not yet read the entire magazine, but if the pieces I’ve read are any indication, this will prove to be not only a useful avenue of study, but a fascinating one as well. And it appears as though Military Heritage is associated with a magazine called Medieval Warfare which may be more my speed. I may well be subscribing to it soon!
I find a lot of pleasure in writing about books which I’ve read. Whether I’m excited about a module I’d like to run, or lambasting an author for being sexist, it’s a lot of fun for me. I believe it also serves a useful, or even essential, purpose. The written word is a medium through which an exchange of ideas takes place. If I simply read something without sharing my thoughts on what it, then all I’ve done is absorbed ideas. I may be a better person for it, but that’s not how an exchange works. It’s not until we discuss a book with others that we’re fully engaged with the ideas presented therein. That’s a large part of why I place such a high value on post comments. Expressing my thoughts is one thing, but it’s nothing really special until someone else connects with what I’ve expressed, and shares thoughts of their own.
Word of warning: majoring in philosophy may cause melodramatic outbursts about the value of ideas.
Problem is, some books have too many ideas in them for a single post to be sufficient. Gary Gygax’s original Dungeon Master’s Guide for Advanced Dungeons and Dragons is one such book. This is a seminal work, and arguably the most notable of Gary’s life. When Wired magazine set out to name the 9 books every geek must read, they listed this book first. I’ve never heard anyone speak ill of it. Proponents of every edition of the game revere it. Second, Third, and Fourth editions may all have had Dungeon Master’s Guides, but Gygax’s treatise is the Dungeon Master’s Guide. I obtained my copy about two months back, and have been impressed time and again with what I’ve read. I am repeatedly struck by the sense that subsequent editions of the game ‘missed the point.’ That the way I learned a concept while reading the 3.5 DMG was an inaccurate rephrasing of what Gygax originally put down here.
As I embark on my first read-through of the Dungeon Master’s Guide, I am taking copious notes, and will be posting my thoughts regularly. This will not be a continuous series, because we just finished one of those, and also because I’m a slow reader. Nor will it be a comprehensive series. I’ll be writing with an eye towards ideas which interest me personally. Such as mechanics which might be useful to me in my own games, or concepts which I find particularly innovative or odd.
This first post covers up to ‘Changing Alignment’ on page 25.
Dice: There is nearly a full page worth of information on probability curves and different ways of producing random outcomes. This is essential information which every GM should be aware of. I had a poor mathematics education, and when I finally learned about this stuff whilst reading blogs and other articles on the Internet, I felt upset that I hadn’t fully understood the implications of different types of dice rolling. When I found out that this information was actually included in the original DMG, that made me upset all over again. Why wasn’t this included in the third edition DMG, or in Pathfinder’s core rulebook? What other information was deemed more important than this?
Characteristics for Player Characters: I’ve always allowed my players to select their height and weight themselves, because I regarded it as role playing information. Half the time the field remains blank, and I’ve always been fine with that. Gygax’s insistence that height and weight be randomly generated have gotten me thinking, though. If I know the party’s weights, then I could set weight limits for pressure plates. If I know their heights, I could tell them where the spinning blade 3ft off the floor hits them. I’m not quite ready to add two additional rolls to the character creation process in my games, but it’s something to think about.
Player Character Non-Professional Skills The secondary skills system has always struck me as elegant. It has its limitations and its failings, but I like the idea of deriving a host of character abilities from that character’s profession. I’ve already discussed this somewhat in my skills overview entry for the profession skill.
Starting Level of Experience for Player Characters Whenever I have new players, I try to make sure there’s at least one experienced player at the table. I’ve found that the experienced player’s example helps the newer players connect with how the game works. Gygax makes the exact opposite recommendation. He goes so far as to say that if you have both new and experienced players, that a GM should place them in separate parties, to allow the neophyte players the opportunity to explore on their own. I wonder if this is a viable choice in a Pathfinder game, where players are much less likely to enjoy having their characters killed shortly after beginning play. None the less, I think I may try this with my next group of newbies.
Unnatural Aging I very much like the idea of spells which advance a character’s age. Many of Pathfinder’s most powerful spells sometimes feel as though they lack impact, because casting them comes with no great cost. In D&D 3.5, many of these spells required a character to sacrifice a large amount of experience points in order to cast them, which I never liked. It lacks a sufficient game world explanation. It’s just a meta game mechanic which unsuccessfully attempts to reign in the power of casters. Magical aging, on the other hand, is well rooted in the fantasy genre. I like the idea that a character is so drained by Altering Reality that they lose three years from their life. And it does reign in a caster’s power significantly: each casting of the spell brings them ever closer to their character’s death from old age.
Disease A few days before I picked up the DMG to begin this project, one of my players asked my why disease did not play a role in the game. “Rabies is a serious threat, and any minor animal could be a carrier for it,” he said. I told him that disease was not a larger part of the game because it wouldn’t be fun: there’s no meaningful way for a player to avoid disease, nor any meaningful way for them to combat it. At best, I said, it would be a way for the GM to tax the players resources by forcing them to heal themselves occasionally, even if they’d taken no damage. When I said it, I felt very Gygaxian. My position on the matter meshed with what I knew of Gygax.
But apparently not, because every month Gygax writes that players have a base 2% chance to contract a disease, and a 3% chance to contract a parasite, with both probabilities being modified by relevant environmental factors. I do not understand how this could be fun for the players. I’d be very curious to hear from anyone who has actually played a game with this rule in effect.
The Paladin’s Warhorse In World of Warcraft, both the paladin and warlock classes have special “class mounts.” These days the ability to summon these steeds is gained automatically upon leveling, but when I first started to play the game years ago, there were lengthy and difficult questlines which had to be completed in order to obtain these mounts. I found the quests to be a great deal of fun, which made me appreciate my mount a lot more once I had it, and I have often regretted the fact that these quests are no longer part of the game.
Apparently the same is true of Dungeons and Dragons. As long as I’ve played the game, the paladin’s Warhorse has simply been a celestial creature which the paladin summons upon reaching a certain level. However, according to Gygax, this summoning spell only gives the paladin the ability to see his or her future companion in whatever local it is currently in. The Paladin must then travel there, and bond with the mount in person. And who knows what quests will be required along the way! This sounds a great deal more fun than the way it is done in Pathfinder, and I fully intend to use this from now on.
Thieves and Assassins Setting Traps Something I noticed in my preliminary page-flipping is that Gygax occasionally asked his players to produce sketches demonstrating their technique in accomplishing certain tasks. Here, he dictates that anytime a character wishes to set a trap, they should be required to produce a simple drawing illustrating how the trap functions. As a frequent player of rogues, I find this idea to be positively brilliant. I’ve often sketched simple trap designs just for the fun of it. I honestly think I would use traps more if I was actually required to provide a physical diagram of how it would work.
My only concern is that some players might be intimidated by the need to actually diagram their traps. My understanding of mechanics is rudimentary enough that I would let something work if it makes even a small amount of sense, but I can still imagine that some players would find the prospect daunting.
Lycanthropy Firstly, Gary and I are very much in conflict about what should cause a paladin to fall. Here it’s written that a paladin should fall if they are infected by a werewolf, because the second personality (the chaotic evil werewolf) causes the paladin to no longer be “pure enough for that honored state.” I’ve written at length about how a GM should handle a paladin’s oath and the possibility of a paladin falling, and I stand by those views.
Secondly, I like the approach Gygax takes to allowing players to gain control of their lycantrhopy–though I dislike his ultimate view of what lycanthropy represents. According to the DMG, a character with lycanthropy must live with the condition for many years before they’re able to control the transformation. And even once they can, it takes years longer to perfect their control. However, as far as I can tell, being a were-something never becomes beneficial to the player. In many ways I am a product of modern fantasy storytelling, I view lycanthropy less as a curse, and more as a superpower.
What I think I would like to do in my games is run the first stage of lycanthropy much as Gygax recommends. Players will be out of control when they transform, and probably won’t even be aware that they undergo the transformation for several months. In their alternate form, they will act as a beast, according to their alignment. However, as years go by, they could begin to control it. Perhaps after 6 months or a year they could control when they transform. And after a year or two, they could be in full control of themselves while in the alternate form. That way, both visions of lycanthropy are given some purchase within the fantasy world. On the one hand, it is a curse which will cause players to suffer a great deal for a very long time, and they will probably want to get it removed. However, if they choose to stick it out, it can eventually reap significant rewards.
Alignment The 9-point alignment system found in D&D can often feel clunky. Shoehorning every philosophical outlook into one of these nine categories feels forced, and to his credit Gygax admits that. In his explanation of the alignment system, Gygax phrases things in a way which I’ve never heard in all of my years of gaming. One which makes a lot of sense, almost to the point of being stupidly obvious: the alignment system helps determine who you are most likely to align yourself with.
This is not to say that groups of similarly aligned creatures cannot be opposed or even mortal enemies. Two nations, for example, with rulers of lawful good alignment can be at war. Bands of orcs can hate each other. But the former would possibly cease their war to oppose a massive invasion of orcs, just as the latter would make common cause against the lawful good men.
Alignment Language I’ve long been aware that early editions included languages specific to each of the alignments. In addition to common, a human paladin would speak “Lawful Good.” I always thought this sounded like an absolutely ridiculous idea. And while the book doesn’t entirely sell me on the concept, it does mention a number of points which have given me cause to reconsider my previous distaste for the idea.
Alignment languages are not full languages. Their vocabularies are extremely limited.
Think of alignment languages like Latin–which is a dead language that was none the less used for centuries as the universal tongue of the catholic church.
Speaking in an alignment tongue is considered remarkably rude when not alone with members of like alignment.
Changing Alignment Gygax writes that any change in a character’s alignment should result in the loss of 1 level of experience. I can’t find any justification for this, it seems very strange to me.
Favorite Quotes from this Section
“As this book is the exclusive precinct of the DM, you must view any non-DM player possessing it as something less than worthy of an honorable death.” -Gygax, DMG, Page 8
“Of the two approaches to hobby games today, one is best defined as the realism-simulation school and the other as the game school. AD&D is assuredly an adherent of the latter school. It does not stress any realism (in the author’s opinion an absurd effort at best considering the topic!). It does little to attempt to simulate anything either.Advanced Dungeons and Dragons is first and foremost a game for the fun and enjoyment of those who seek to use imagination and creativity.” -Gygax, DMG, Page 9
“An example of the use of wisdom can be given by noting that while the intelligent character will know that smoking is harmful to him, he may well lack the wisdom to stop (this writer may well fall into this category).” -Gygax, DMG, Page 15
“[Regarding Hide in Shadows] As is plainly stated in Players Handbook, this is NEVER possible under direct (or even indirect) observation. If the thief insists on trying, allow the attempt and throw dice, but don’t bother to read them, as the fool is as obvious as a coal pile in a ballroom.” -Gygax, DMG, Page 19
I recently read the 2nd edition AD&D module Vecna Reborn, written by Monte Cook during the end-days of TSR. Long-time Comma, Blank_ readers may recall that one of my earliest posts detailed my thoughts on another AD&D module themed around my favorite villain: Vecna Lives!. Vecna Reborn is a kind of loose sequel to Vecna Lives!, insofar as it doesn’t contradict its predecessor. There’s little continuity between the two, aside from the appearance of Citadel Cavitius, and Vecna himself. But, given that the last adventure ended with Vecna being pushed through a portal into another world–which turns out to be Ravenloft–it’s understandable that there’s not much to connect this to the previous quest. There is a third module which I haven’t read yet, entitled Die Vecna, Die!, which ties these two together. I very much look forward to reading it, but that’s for another day.
Vecna Reborn is only about half the length of Vecna Lives!, at 63 pages. But that’s still twice the length of a standard adventure module, so there’s no lack of peril to explore. And the adventure is exciting! I was so engaged I actually put down the novel I’ve been reading for a week. And, as with any well written module, there’s a lot to be learned about game mastery by dissecting the author’s work. The author of an adventure module, after all, essentially a professional game master. Who better to try and learn from? Take what works about the adventure, figure out how it was accomplished, and steal it.
The most memorable element of this adventure is the constant sense that the PCs are in danger. And not just from wandering monsters and surprise encounters. In fact there are very few of either to be found here. Vecna Reborn is set between two oppressive autocracies, one ruled by Vecna, and one ruled by Kas the Destroyer (Vecna’s former lieutenant, and current mortal foe). Neither civilization requires the players to necessarily keep themselves hidden, but nor do they want the authorities to notice them. The “Daggers” of Kas’ domain will arrest, interrogate, and imprison people on a whim. And the “Reavers” of Vecna’s domain are undead sentinels who would sooner kill a mortal than deal with any unrest within their lord’s domain. Even the relatively few times when the players will likely find themselves outside of either city, wandering patrols, invisible stalkers, virulent plagues, and a life-draining desert serve to keep the players on edge.
And that’s something I’ve never been good at. Creating atmosphere in general terms is a struggle for me, but I think I do alright. This adventure, though, would have me actually looking over my shoulder and clasping my hands. I would love to be able to achieve that level of tension and immersion with my players, and I think Vecna Reborn comes with a good toolkit. Kas’ city of Tor Gorak is ruled with a hauntingly chronic injustice, which breeds obsequiousness in its populace. People stay off the streets for fear of getting picked up by the Daggers. The boldest act of defiance in the entire town is the madhouse founded by an old man, where he keeps the insane safe from execution for being ‘worthless.’ There’s only small handful of people there who wouldn’t turn on the players instantly to save themselves from the attention of the authorities, and the players are shown early on that they don’t want that kind of attention. Shortly after the players arrive in the city, they’re (likely) picked up by the Daggers, and taken to their headquarters for interrogation. The players are only released when some good fortune falls into their lap, and if they do anything to warrant getting picked up again, they know they won’t be so lucky.
Vecna’s Citadel Cavitius is less overtly totalitarian, but is somehow even more demeaning and oppressive. Horrifying undead guard every entrance to the citadel, allowing any individual to enter, but allowing no one to leave. Vecna, the undead god, rules the city, his undead lords and ladies handle its various affairs, and undead Reavers maintain order. The unholy citizenry ignore the affairs of mortals the same way one might ignore a dog walking through the streets. So while the PCs can go about their business unmolested, their lives are less than meaningless to those around them. It’s just as likely that they’ll complete their quest as it is for a vampire to pick them off the streets for a gory meal.
Imminent danger can take many forms. As I mentioned above, later in the adventure there is a virulent plague killing everyone around the players, leaving them to wonder whether they might catch it themselves. And even on the road, two invisible demons follow the players and cause mischief, letting them know that an unknown danger still lurks somewhere about them. Vecna Reborn is a litany of very visible, very deadly dangers which the players can do nothing about. Their only hope is to keep their heads down and try to stop Vecna’s plot to be reborn without drawing any attention.
Another element of the game which caught my attention is The Shadowed Room. During the course of the adventure, the party must travel there to learn how to thwart Vecna’s plans. When they find it, they discover that the shadowed room is, in fact, a library. I. Love. Fantasy Libraries. As a bibliophile and a lover of fantasy, they’re a combination of two locations which excite and comfort me. I often design such libraries just for the fun of it, and The Shadowed Room is a good one.
During the height of Vecna’s empire in the realm of Oerth, he ruled over a massive city. And in one of the city’s many spires, he filled a library with secret both arcane and powerful. The knowledge gathered in this room was so profound, and so remarkable, that the library left a permanent imprint on the multiverse. When the city was destroyed, millennia ago, this imprint remained, as a memory of creation itself. Vecna learned that he could access this memory, and constructed a magical portal to allow himself to access this “Shadowed Room.” The knowledge which was once gathered there, knowledge which has otherwise been lost, can be read here. But nothing can be taken from the room, for it is only a shadow of something which once was.
Lastly, I want to make note of the fantastic hooks this adventure leaves you with. In my opinion, the best adventure modules leave a group wanting to do more. With the most pressing goal accomplished, a myriad of other possibilities should call to the players, giving the game master a number of avenues to pursue for further games in the same local. And that’s precisely what Vecna Reborn does. Immediately upon reaching the period at the end of the last sentence, I instinctively started constructing follow up adventures in my mind. There’s so much more the players could accomplish! Freeing Tor Gorak of Kas’ rule could last sessions! The headquarters of the Daggers and Kas’s own castle would both make excellent settings for dungeon crawls, and after the way the adventure encourages the players to engage with the town’s populace, I think they’ll feel enough sympathy for them to want to help. Perhaps even form a rebellion for an extended campaign against Kas.
Oh! By the way, this is the 100th RPG post on Comma, Blank_. Yay.
Most people who play Pathfinder do so because they played Dungeons and Dragons 3.5. They are, after all, the primary demographic which Pathfinder has been geared towards. Paizo created Pathfinder with the intent of carrying on 3.5’s legacy by continuing to provide compatible products to the fans of that game after it was discontinued. However, the more I watch Paizo, the clearer it becomes that they are an adaptable and forward thinking company. They understand their customers, and their market, and know how to leverage their resources. An excellent example of this is the Pathfinder Beginner’s Box, which has been universally hailed as the best starter box-set since the original red box.
So it strikes me that if Pathfinder has created such an excellent product for getting new people to play their game, then it is reasonable to assume that there are new people playing it. Those new players, by definition, have not played any previous RPGs, such as D&D 3.5. Of course we don’t actually know how many new people have been turned on to our hobby through the Pathfinder Beginner Box, but it is safe to assume that there are some, and that there will be more. As these players connect with the hobby, they’ll move on to the Pathfinder Core Rulebook and Pathfinder Bestiary for a more complete version of the basic rules. And then they’ll want more, and they’ll turn to supplements.
Now, Pathfinder has many fine supplements. The Game Mastery Guide is a particular favorite of mine. But one of Pathfinder’s great strengths is its ability to draw on any of the supplements of D&D 3.5. I fear that new players and game masters may not be aware of this treasure trove of books just waiting to be used in their games. And so I’ve compiled a list of Dungeons and Dragons supplements (mostly 3.5 but some are D&D 3.0) which I feel work best with the Pathfinder role playing game. This list is by no means complete. The list details a modest selection of books which I am familiar with from my own collection. I still don’t own about 1/4 of the official supplements, and the list below is not complete even for the books I do own. Only the ones which are truly excellent.
Fiendish Codices: I & II In my most humble opinion, the two Fiendish Codices were the best books released for D&D 3.5. The first codex, Hordes of the Abyss, details demons. In D&D (as well as in Pathfinder,) Demons are being of pure chaos and evil. The second, Tyrants of the Nine Hells, details devils. Again, both D&D and Pathfinder use the word “devils” to describe beings of pure Law and evil. Demons and devils loathe one another, and according to D&D lore, have been engaged in a conflict called “The Blood War” since the dawn of time. Both books begin with a chapter expanding on the ‘fluff,’ (or ‘lore,’) of these evil creatures. This is something which I found considerably lacking throughout all of D&D 3.5’s run: good sources for information which isn’t strictly mechanical. I particularly enjoyed the story of The Pact Primeval which TotNH begins with. The books go on to tour various locals in both the Abyss and the Nine Hells. Both also contain information on the Lords and Ladies of these dark places. Rulers of incalculable power and evil, many of which are so fascinating that I had a dozen campaign ideas for them before I finished reading their descriptions. Aside from the above, each book contains new feats, spells, prestige classes, and monsters. Most of which should be compatible with Pathfinder.
Many of the characters and locals in these books are protected intellectual properties of Wizards of the Coast, so Pathfinder is unable to make use of them. Pathfinder’s world of Golarion has done a great job making up for the loss of the traditional D&D cosmology and history, but it simply doesn’t have the same impact for me. Maybe I’m simply not familiar enough with Paizo’s game world, but I can’t bring myself to abandon the gods, heroes, and villains which I came to love in my early days of role playing. But even if you’re perfectly happy with Golarion’s denizens, these two books are worth getting your hands on.
Races of Stone, Destiny, and The Wild As you can easily infer from these book’s titles, they provide more detailed information on the basic races of Dungeons and Dragons. Out of the seven core races, each book provides an entire chapter devoted to two of them (save Destiny, which covers 3). Each book also introduces a new playable race, given a similar amount of detail, which holds to a common theme. Races of Stone details Dwarfs, Gnomes, and a large, hard-skinned race called Goliaths. Races of the Wild covers elves, halflings, and a flighted race called Raptorans. Finally, Races of Destiny goes over Humans, devotes on chapter to both Half-Elves and Half-Orcs, and includes a new race called Illumians, which are the living embodiment of language.
The racial chapters are a good hefty size, between twenty and thirty pages in length. Each race is dissected in detail, from their psychology, to their common grooming practices. Artistry, folklore, religion, the list goes on! These chapters have proven invaluable to me over the years, and to this day I still grab these books for reference if I’m including an important NPC of a race I haven’t used in awhile. And on a personal note, I really love Illumians. So much so that I included them prominently in The Girl and the Granite Throne.
Unearthed Arcana I’ve mentioned before how great this book is. In fact, I wrote an extensive post detailing my reasons for using one of its alternate rules. That entire post was based on two and a half pages of this 218 page book. I won’t say that everything in here is gold, some of the ideas presented in it are actually quite bad. And many of interesting or good ideas presented in this book have actually been updated and reprinted in official Pathfinder supplements. However, there’s still a lot in here for Pathfinder players to enjoy. Environmental races such as aquatic dwarves or arctic elves; bloodline templates which allow players to gain minor–or major–abilities due to a special ancestry; paragon classes which allow characters to level up as a model of the traits their race embodies; and that’s all in chapter 1!
I can’t think of any book which I would recommend to new GMs more highly than Unearthed Arcana, because it does a good job of teaching GMs how to apply rule 0. The core rulebooks of an RPG always throw in a few lines to the effect of “But if you don’t like it, change it! It’s your game, you can do anything you want!” It characterizes rule 0 as a blunt instrument, requiring no forethought. By presenting balanced alternatives to the official rules, Unearthed Arcana provides a model of what house rules should look like.
Epic Level Handbook In the first edition Dungeons and Dragons rulebook “Men and Magic,” Gary Gygax writes that there is no limit to the number of times a player could theoretically level up. First edition modules were often marked “An Adventure for Characters levels 28-32,” or even higher than that! The 3rd edition of Dungeons and Dragons is a little more reserved regarding levels beyond twentieth. Given the massive scaling differences between the two, I can’t blame them. Yet as a player and as a GM, I’ve always liked the idea of a character being able to scale infinitely. I would love to see my players bite and claw their way through forty or fifty levels, eventually growing powerful enough to replace a god. And once that happened, they could become a permanent part of that game-world’s pantheon.
Even if you’re less inclined towards allowing deicide, or similarly grandiose feats in your game. the Epic Level Handbook is a severely underrated guide to running games beyond 20th level. It includes a number of tools for GMs to help them create epic level obstacles and epic level monsters which their players must face in order to accomplish the epic level goals the book suggests, in order to win some epic level loot and rewards.
Manual of the Planes As I mentioned above, I’m not intimately familiar with the world of Golarion. Thus far I have stuck to the classic Dungeons and Dragons flavor whenever I’m not using something from my own campaign settings. So I don’t know what offerings Paizo has with regards to planar adventuring, but I have a hard time believing it could be much better than this.
I’ve honestly read the Manual of the Planes cover to cover a number of times for the sheer pleasure of it. And truth be told, I’ve never had the opportunity to run a game where my players spent a significant amount of time off of the material plane–but ever since I read this book I’ve been looking for an excuse to send my players out into the multiverse to explore.
This book is a spark to my imagination. What kind of adventures might my players have on the Twin Paradise of Bytopia; a plane with two landmasses facing one another, each serving as the sky of the other. Or what about the supremely lawful Clockwork Nirvana of Mechanus, where gravity is dependent on which miles-wide cog you happen to be standing on. What about the Infernal Battlefield of Acheron, where dead warriors fight on in an unending battle which will last for a hellish eternity? The possibilities seem endless. Such places could be the location of a single whimsical adventure, or an entire deviant campaign.
The Books of Exalted Deeds,and Vile Darkness Named for the artifacts of the same name, these opposing tomes describe the absolute pinnacle of all that is good and holy, and the darkest depths of all that is depraved and profane. To my knowledge they are the only books which were sold with stickers bearing warnings of mature content, not for players under 18 years of age.
Both books are excellent examples of what good and evil should be in the game. BoED is essentially a long-form version of my recent post on Paladin Overzealousness. It encourages GMs to provide paladins (or non-paladin characters who wish to hold to an ‘exalted’ code of ethics) with legitimate moral quandaries. The book also stresses that these moral quandaries should be solvable without forcing a character to betray their ideals, and it provides tools to help GMs do that. The Book of Vile Darkness is, not surprisingly, just the opposite. Aside from terrifying monsters of pure evil, spells which cause unnecessary suffering, and basic rules for torture, the book includes a lot of information to help GMs build better villains. In particular I liked the section near the start which presented a number of simple villain archetypes.
As I mentioned above, this list is not exhaustive. Wizards of the Coast released an immense number of supplements during the run of Dungeons and Dragons 3.x. Books like Exemplars of Evil, or The Stronghold Builder’s Guidebook still see use in my games. But in going through my own collection, these are the books which really stood out to me as having the most impact on my play over the years I’ve had them. I would recommend any, or all of them, to a Pathfinder player looking to expand their collection.
During the recent collapse of Boarders book stores, I went to find what deals I could find. This was during the final days of their liquidation, when most items were between 60 and 80 percent off, so the shelves were already pretty bare, but I did bring home quite a haul. Among the booty (books) I carried back to my stronghold (two room apartment), was The Worldwound Gambit, by Robin D. Laws. It’s part of the Pathfinder Tales collection which, for those unaware, is a label under which Paizo publishes novels set against the backdrop of Golarion, the official Pathfinder game world. Supporting genre fiction authors is one of my favorite ways in which tabletop gaming companies advertise their products. I’ve been a fan of Dungeons and Dragon’s fiction ever since a friend forced me to read The Dark Elf Trilogy. So as I’ve long since grown out of Drizzt, I was interested to know what my new gaming system had to offer.
The basic summary of the plot is that a group of less-than-heroic folks take exception to the demonic invasion which is threatening to overrun their homeland. Hoping to bring things closer to normal, the group ventures into the “worldwound,” a tiny segment of the Abyss which has merged with the material plane. Their goal is to find and steal the magic orb which is allowing the demons to pass freely in-and-out of the worldwound itself. The plot is simple, and Mr. Laws devotes much of his time to developing the characters. Something which I very much appreciate: genre fiction is at its best when it’s character driven.
But character driven storytelling is not enough to save this book from damnation. The writing is, at times, painfully bad. Far be it from me to claim any profound expertise as a writer, but what in the world drove Mr. Laws to write the entire story in present tense? (“Gad is running, and now he jumps.” instead of “Gad ran, then jumped.”) The senselessly unique perspective constantly pulled me out of the story as I tried to reconcile awkward phrasings. I was halfway through the book before I got used to it, and I still can’t think of anything it added to the experience. What’s more, some passages simply appear to be poorly constructed. For example, there’s one passage which details a single side of a conversation. No less than nineteen lines in a row begin with “Then:.” And on page 143, there’s this gem, emphasis mine:
“Do we go around the marsh?” Gad asks.
“We don’t know how far it extends,” says Vitta.”Whatever’s on either side of it might be worse.” She pulls a compass from her pack. Its dial spins crazily. “And the further we get from a straight line to your tower, the less confidence I have of staying on track. We could get turned around and wind up all the way down in the Shudderwood.” The Shudderwood is a haunt of twisted fey, far from their destination.
My exact response to this was to shout “ORLY!?” Pardon my exasperation, but are you kidding me!? The Shudderwood never becomes relevant to the story, nor is it even mentioned again in the entire book. The passage provides enough context for even the slowest of readers to know everything they need to know: The Shudderwood is a place very far away. It strikes me as offensively patronizing that more explanation was thought necessary. Either that, or Paizo was really insistent that the Shudderwood get some exposure for some reason.
Aside from the poor writing, The Worldwound Gambit suffers from “Book Based on an RPG Syndrome.” Everything about the characters and the world they live in is clearly constructed to tie in with the Pathfinder product. I’d bet $50 that Mr. Laws rolled character sheets for his characters before he started writing. Calliard is a bard and Hendregan is a sorcerer pretending to be a wizard (which is never explained), that much is said outright. Gad, Vitta, and Jerisa are all rogues specializing in diplomacy, lock picking, and combat respectively. Tiberio is the only one whose class is difficult to ascertain, but only because he swore off hurting people. Most likely he’s another rogue. I understand that these books are advertisements. That’s part of what I love about the fiction programs like Pathfinder Tales. They help companies push their product, they help people who read genre fiction, and most important, they help writers of genre fiction. But making the connection between the fiction and the game that fiction is advertising so on-the-nose only makes the game look bad.
The construction of the story seems sloppy as well. As I mentioned earlier, Hendragen is a sorcerer who tells everyone he’s a wizard. The author took the time to make this point clear, and the characters even have a discussion about it where one of them is quite indignant about the deception. Hendragen replies “When others ask, tell them I am a wizard.” That’s the last which is ever said on the matter. No explanation is ever given for this anomaly. It’s not the only one either, at one point Gad speaks with an old witch who apparently suffered rapid-aging due to a previous adventure which she accompanied Gad on. The entire encounter is not only melodramatic, but as far as I can tell, the only purpose the scene could possibly serve is to express to the reader that it’s possible something bad might happen. Hardly a shocking revelation when the characters are charging into the heart of the demon forces. Oh, and spoiler warning: nothing bad happens to the characters after all.
Aside from the questionable writing, the book is also quite sexist. There are three women which play central roles in the story: Vitta the locksmith, Jerisa the killer, and Isilda the villain. Isilda is a powerful leader of demons, certainly, but is defined almost entirely by her sexuality. The first glimpse of her the “party” gets includes the following:
“A white silk garment sheathes her alabaster torso. its cut is tauntingly revealing, forcing the gaze to a pair of small, imperiously conical breasts. A filmy skirt of uneven strips likewise confronts the viewer with flashes of long, unblemished thigh. “
As a fan of small breasts, I found the phrase “imperiously conical” rather delightful, and mentally cataloged it for future use, for the next time I write something…personal. But this character, Isilda, is not starring in a fantasy themed erotic novel. She’s a power mad woman who somehow rose to such high prominence that she–a mere mortal–commands demons within their own domain. But sure, we can talk about her breasts.
Her characterization only grows worse from there. Nearly every one of Isilda’s scenes is about her aggressively pursuing sex with Gad. And when she’s finally the focus of a scene where she isn’t trying to have sex with Gad, it’s only because she’s being murdered by another woman who loves Gad. Which brings us to Jerisa. Her character can be quickly summarized in three points. She is good at killing people, foolishly impulsive, and desperately in love with Gad, who does not care for her in return. If you drop the killing efficiency from that list, she becomes every 2-dimensional love interest in history.
Which leaves Vitta. Vitta is a badass. She’s got a slightly sharper tongue than she seems to realize, and it doesn’t take much for her to fly off the handle when she thinks someone else is being foolish or putting the rest of the group in danger. She’s intelligent as well. She critically analyzes each situation, and is often responsible for solving the group’s problems. She has no love interest in the story, but shares a camaraderie with Gad which can be heartwarming at times. She’s also a halfling. Excuse my crassness, but I can’t help but wonder if she would have been so well characterized if her hips were wide enough to fit a dick into. It seems too coincidental that the only good female character is also the only one the author wouldn’t be able to have sex with.
Despite all those failings, the book was compelling. Mr. Laws did an excellent job giving life to the world around his characters. Details, such as the blood of demons being used as an addictive drug, make me wonder what other curiosities this world holds. And wanting to know how things would turn out for Vitta had me turning pages furiously near the end. I must also admit that there were three or four other complaints which I was all riled up to make, only to have the author yank them out from under me near the end of the story. Bastard.
Easily the books greatest overall strength is the lack of combat. Fiction like this is normally characterized by lengthy descriptions of flashing swords, pooling blood, and clashing armor. It’s refreshing to read a book where the characters solve their problems primarily through skill and guile. What violence there is takes the form of quick strikes from the shadows. Most of the foes the party actually chooses to fight are dead too quickly to say that combat occurred. This is precisely what I loved so much about The Cleric Quintet, and genre fiction needs more of it.
Despite loving Vitta, and believing more books need to lay off combat the way this one does, I don’t think I can recommend The Worldwound Gambit. The poor writing and sexism are simply too much for me to accept. This is the first and only book in the Pathfinder Tales collection I’ve read so far, so I can only hope it’s the worst of the bunch. I see that Elaine Cunningham has a book in this collection titled Winter Witch. I always enjoy Ms. Cunningham’s Star Wars novels, so hopefully she can redeem Pathfinder fiction in my eyes.
If you do want something to read, try The Cleric Quintet. It’s also low combat, exciting, and Danica isn’t a cardboard cutout of a woman.
Since purchasing the Pathfinder Core Rulebook earlier this year, it has almost completely replaced Dungeons and Dragons 3.5 in my affections. So many of the overcomplicated mechanics in 3.5 have been reduced to rules which are simple to memorize and enact. And many areas in which 3.5 was lacking (there were many times when “leveling up” only meant more HP) have been beefed up by Paizo. Resulting in, I think, a much more balanced and entertaining game. Pathfinder is not perfect, by any means. It even created a few new problems which 3.5 didn’t have to begin with. But the point stands that Pathfinder is an improvement.
So much so that I sometimes forget Pathfinder was designed to be compatible with Dungeons and Dragons 3.5 content. With a little tweaking, most of which can be done in the GM’s head, any D&D 3.5 supplement or adventure module can be used to enhance a Pathfinder game. So while Paizo is busy doing such a good job recruiting new players into our fine hobby, many of those new players may be interested in what D&D 3.x books are worth purchasing to add to their Pathfinder collection. It would perhaps be beneficial to construct a list of the best & most relevant 3.5 supplements. I would need to read the handful I missed before doing so, but I have no doubt that Unearthed Arcana would be damned near the top of my list.
Named for the AD&D first edition supplement of the same name, Unearthed Arcana is 218 pages of optional & alternate rules for D&D. You may recall the book from yesterday’s Colorful Characters 6. The Gestalt system I used in that post comes from Unearthed Arcana. Every page of the book is worth a dragon’s horde. It holds mechanics and fluff for anything from variations on race and class, to systems for reputation and sanity. A more descriptive title for the book might be “The Big Book of House Rules,” but it’s just not as snappy. It’s the book so nice, I got it twice. For serious.
One of my favorite segments of the book is a three-page alternate rule nestled in chapter three, called Weapon Group Feats. It has been included as an optional rule in every game I’ve run since, from D&D 3.5 to Pathfinder. The exact text of the rule, pulled straight from Unearthed Arcana, is available to read on HypertextD20 SRD, but I will sum it up here for clarity’s sake just the same.
Using the standard rules, all weapons are classified either as simple, martial, or exotic. Most classes begins play with proficiency either in simple, or simple and martial weapon types. Characters who attempt to use weapons which do not fall into a group they are proficient with take a -4 penalty on attack rolls. Exotic weapons are a special type which are normally more powerful than other weapons, but each specific exotic weapon requires a feat be taken in order to wield it without penalty. On the face of it, the system makes sense. Fighters obviously receive more weapon training than wizards do, so they’re able to wield more advanced and deadly weapons. Unsurprisingly, I have a number of problems with this arrangement, but I’ll go into them in a moment.
The weapon group system appears somewhat more complicated, but is ultimately quite simple. Essentially, the 3 weapon classifications are replaced by more specific ones which identify the weapon’s basic group. Examples of groups might be Axes, Bows, Heavy Blades, or Spears & Lances. Mindful of the increased effectiveness of exotic weapons, characters are still considered non-proficient with such a weapon, even if they are proficient with the weapon group it falls into. Characters must take Weapon Group (Exotic) in order to gain access to those weapons. Thus, instead of each class starting the game being proficient in either one or both primary weapon groups, each class begins play with the option to select a number of weapon groups they are proficient with. Barbarians can select three, Bards can select two, etcetera.
I resolutely believe the latter system to be superior for the following reasons:
Increased Realism & Increased Simplicity Almost without exception, increased realism means increased complexity. Sometimes, this is an acceptable exchange, but with games like D&D 3.5 or Pathfinder, complexity is already high. And while the weapon groups rule would seem to be more complicated than the basic proficiency rules, it’s much more intuitive. If a character who has been using a dagger up to now finds a +2 hand axe they may be tempted to switch, but in order to determine whether or not they are proficient they need to crack open the rulebook and find the chart which details which weapons fit into which proficiency group. Using weapon groups, the player need only look at his character sheet to know what types of weapons he or she knows how to use.
Allowing Player’s their Weapon of Choice You don’t have to be a GM to realize that players care about the weapon their characters use. It’s often one of the first parts of the character concept they come up with. “A dwarf paladin who fights with a trident,” “an elven rogue who is a master of the kukri,” “a halfling fighter who specializes in spear fighting.” If players are so interested in the weapons they get to use, why should the game pointlessly restrict them from using it? It’s not as though a wizard who uses a longsword is going to suddenly rival the fighter in melee combat. The wizard still has a -2 strength and the worst base attack bonus in the game. He’s never going to hit anything. There’s no reason to add a -4 “screw your character concept” penalty to that.
Makes Weapon Specific Feats Less Lame There are a number of feats in the game which require the character to select a weapon to take them with, such as weapon focus, or weapon specialization. These are great feats which avoid all the pitfalls I hate about feats, players should be encouraged to take them. However, when you take Weapon Focus(Longsword), there’s always the nagging worry in your mind that you’re going to find a +5 Vorpal Scimitar in the next treasure pile. Replacing that with Weapon Focus (Heavy Blades) goes a long way towards reducing the player’s worry.
Treasure Hordes Don’t Seem Tailored Often, partially because of the previous point, GMs feel obligated to include direct upgrades to a player’s weapon. If a player has invested a lot of time in their battleaxe skills, then eventually they’re going to want +1, +2, & +3 battleaxes. But it starts to feel painfully contrived when players just happen to find treasure hordes which include those things. If players can switch freely between types of axes without penalties, this becomes much less of an issue.
I do have one minor issue with the weapon group system as written in Unearthed Arcana. The number of proficiencies listed for each class to select at first level is far too low. There are 17 potential proficiencies listed there, yet the highest number of first level proficiencies is four for the fighter. And Druids, Sorcerers, and Wizards benefit from the system not at all. I prefer to add 2 additional weapon group choices for each of the classes. This allows everyone more freedom. Classes with a small number of proficiency selections, such as the wizard, can still know how to use an exotic weapon (which they’ll still never hit with.) And classes which are supposed to be martial masters, such as the fighter, gain some depth to their weapons mastery.
“We Be Goblins!” is a charming little Pathfinder module which Paizo has made available as a free PDF through their online store. I printed out a copy a month or so ago, and thoroughly enjoyed reading it. Despite the short length of only 16 pages, there are some remarkably charming touches which make this module memorable for me. The adventure is well designed with a good mix of challenges for the players. The pregenerated characters are interesting, and developed well enough to give players a baseline to role play from without being constricting. There’s a good sense of humor throughout the adventure as well, with a number of catchy songs scribbled in the margins. I must admit, I’ve recited a few of them to myself while driving. They are quite catchy:
We be Licktoads! We Make Raid! Put the longshanks to the blade! Burn them up from feet to head, Make them hurt, then make them dead!
Cut the parents into ham, Smush the babies into Jam, All the rest in pot get stewed, We be Licktoads – YOU BE FOOD!
Which brings me to one of the biggest draws to this module: playing as evil goblins. Players have never been prevented from playing as evil characters, or from playing as goblins; the Monster Manuals and Bestiaries even have racial traits for goblins which players could use if they liked. But as I’ve discussed in the past, while not forbidden it’s certainly not encouraged. Despite that, something about Pathfinder’s version of goblins has caught hold of players. As any sensible company should, Paizo is cashing in on that with a number of products. The artist who designed Pathfinder’s Goblins can be thanked for that, I think. He or she somehow managed to take the most generic-of-the-generic fantasy monster, and reinvent them into something which is both classic and novel, adorable and terrifying all at once. The song above is a testament to all four seemingly contradictory traits.
On a lark last weekend, I decided I wanted to see how this adventure played at the table. What’s more, I wanted to do it with enough people for all four of the pregenerated characters to be in play. So during the week I conferred with the players from two of my gaming groups. Remarkably, each of them had Saturday free. Considering how difficult it can be to get either group together for a game, I thought it might be a titanic effort to get both together at once. But everybody was open to my first suggested date and time. So this morning I got up, cleaned my apartment, and was going over my notes just in time for people to start arriving.
The opening of the adventure is somewhat wordy for my tastes. My rule of thumb is three paragraphs. If I’ve got more than three paragraphs to read before the players get to start taking action and making choices, then I edit down. I may pride myself on my writing, but my friends didn’t make room in their busy schedules to listen to me read aloud. They came to play a game. All the same, the introduction didn’t go off too poorly. The players got a good sense of who and where they were. But to be honest, if I were to run it again I think I would cut a lot of the introductory crap and jump into the bonfire as quick as I could. That’s where the game really got moving.
After the goblin leader provides the PCs with their mission in the opening scene, the tribe has a bonfire celebration to, as cheif Gutwad says, “burn bad luck away from [the PCs].” Essentially it’s a big rowdy goblin party in honor of the PC’s upcoming quest. Here, I think, would have been a much better place for a lot of the exposition which happened at the start of the adventure. Rather than have the goblin chief tell the players to avoid the creature known as Lotslegs Eat Goblin Babies Many, the PCs could have overheard frightening stories about it from other goblins during the feast. But this is a minor nitpick at worst.
The content of the bonfire are four “dares,” as the goblins call them. To test the bravery of the PCs, the tribe presents them with challenges. If they succeed, they are rewarded with the right to borrow a few pieces of magical gear. If they fail, or refuse the challenge, they are mercilessly mocked. I must admit I was somewhat worried that this was the kind of thing which sounded good on paper, but wouldn’t work out in play, but I was wrong. It was during this more lighthearted, role-playing heavy activity that my players really started to get into their characters. I’m not often fortunate enough to have excited, in-character conversations going on between players. More on that later.
My players ended up succeeding at each of the four challenges without much incident. It was then that I began to realize that the pregenerated characters were extremely overpowered. I honestly cannot comprehend how the rogue managed to have a +16 to his stealth check at level 1. [Edit: Okay, I see. The Goblin size bonus, and the Goblin racial bonus, stack.] This ended up detracting from the game somewhat, as I never really felt the characters were in real danger. Though, in fairness, I did significantly reduce the difficulty of each of the challenges. Not to make things easier, but simply because I can’t make it seem exciting to ask players to make a DC 15 ride check three times in a row.
In the morning, the players set off on the grand one mile (1/6th of a hex) journey to the grounded ship marked on the treasure map, and the cache of fireworks it held. They were nearly there when they were accosted by Lotslegs Eat Goblin Babies Many, a giant spider who hungered for goblin flesh! Two of my cowardly players hid from the beast, the rogue succeeding at doing so despite the bells which another player had secretly attached to her clothes. The fight was brief, with minimal damage on the part of the players. Considering that this is probably the second most difficult fight in the adventure, I was somewhat disappointed in how quickly the spider was felled.
From there, the players moved on to reach the ship. And that is where things took a turn for the awesome. One of the four goblins is a cleric named Poog. According to his character sheet, Poog is ashamed of being one of the worst animal riders in the clan. The character sheet also says Poog is brave to the point of being overconfident. So when Poog was acting as a scout into the the muddy area surrounding the ship, and was charged by a rabid horse, Poog’s immediate response was:
“POOG WILL RIDE HORSE!” Complete with my player’s best goblin voice.
As it turned out, Poog failed to mount the charging beast, but managed to deal it a crushing blow by bracing his javelin in the mud when the horse came around for a second charge. From there on in, the events of the game took a back seat to the hilarious role playing exchanges between the characters. The woman playing the aforementioned rogue took it upon herself to goad Poog on. She heaped insults onto him, and quickly discovered that there was nothing she couldn’t get Poog to do by simply telling him that he wasn’t good enough to do it. And all of this simply goaded Poog onward, culminating “POOG CAN RIDE ANYTHING!” being shouted several times. In one combat, Poog and the Rogue actually took turns mounting and pushing each other off of a very confused dog which the other two party members were desperately trying to kill.
The climax of the adventure came when the four goblins were attempting to flee the ship with their firework booty. Just as they were about to escape, they were accosted by Vorka, the goblin cannibal whose fireworks they had just stolen. She had cast Spider Climb on herself before the party reached her, so her first action in combat was to walk up the vertical mast of the ship high enough so that melee attacks couldn’t reach her. Unfortunately, this prompted Poog to remember that he’d earned an Elixer of Dragon’s Breath during the bonfire challenges. Before the rest of the party knew what was happening, the mast was on fire, and Vorka was quickly jumping down onto the deck to avoid the flames.
The rest of the adventure proceded entirely without incident. Vorka’s rolls were so terrible that she was killed without much of a fuss. And despite my attempt to destroy the player’s fireworks by having the chest catch on fire, they were all dexterous enough to get the prized explosives to safety before they were ignited.
Having now played through it, “We Be Goblins!” is an entertaining way to spend four hours. It suffers significantly from lack of challenge, though. When I run a one-shot game such as this one, my expectation is to see one or more players lose their lives. Since they’re never going to play these characters again anyway, what’s the point of coddling them? This failing is particularly bad since the game comes with its own pregenerated characters. If they knew how powerful the PCs would be, why couldn’t they make the adventure a little tougher to give it the edge it was missing?
I must reiterate that it was fun, though. It brought my group together and gave them a situation which they had a lot of fun with. I’d be a little wary of starting up yet another campaign, but I’m pretty sure everyone agreed that it would be fun to return to those characters (and that group) again someday.
Maybe I’ll run them through an edited version of The Sunless Citadel next…
A few weeks back, whilst perusing the shelves at my local gaming/comic shop, Fantasium, I saw this book sitting next to the small selection of RPG-based fiction. “Everything I Need To Know I Learned From Dungeons & Dragons,” by Shelly Mazzanoble. Ostensibly, it’s a parody of self-help books. Everything I need to know… points to D&D as the source of “all the answers™.” I thought it was a pretty amusing idea, but being on something of a budget I wasn’t sure if it would deliver. The whimsical doodles of adventurers on the back cover, though, convinced me to give the book a shot.
I took it, along with my other purchases, up to the counter, and started chatting with the store’s owner. I learned that the book had only been released that very day. The owner mentioned that copies had been flying off the shelf so quickly, she was concerned she wasn’t going to have an opportunity to snag one for herself. Apparently the author’s previous book, Confessions of a Part Time Sorceress had been quite good. I also learned, to my delight, that the author was a woman. Women are so extremely underrepresented in this hobby that I was thrilled to find a book written by one. Since I wasn’t driving that day, I cracked it open as soon as we were on the road.
As is often the case, the back cover somewhat misrepresented the book. It becomes obvious within the first chapter that it is not a parody of self help books. Rather, it is a series of personal anecdotes from the author’s life in which Dungeons and Dragons helped her solve problems. None the less, the book gets off to a good start. Ms. Mazzanoble has a very conversational style of writing which serves her well. There was a paragraph in the first chapter where she describes her first encounter with D&D players, and the passion they have for their hobby. It was so well written as to be legitimately touching. Not only does she have the ability to be poignant, but the author is legitimately funny as well. The humor didn’t often make me laugh out loud, but it did keep me turning pages through the first few chapters. After that, though, the whole facade starts to wear thin.
Each of the stories contained within the book seem to fall into one of two, equally insulting categories. First, there are the stories which seem entirely contrived. For example, in one chapter Shelly decides to spend each day of the week ‘worshiping’ a different deity from the Dungeons and Dragons mythos. She writes that she did this to help herself explore spirituality. But if I had to guess, I’d say her motivation was to fill 181 pages. Second, there are the stories in which D&D’s involvement seems to have been added retroactively. Such as when she’s wondering if she should ask her boyfriend to move in with her. She asks herself “what would my character do.” When she decides that her character wouldn’t sweat the small stuff, she resolves to be more spontaneous. This culminates in a spur-of-the-moment day trip with her boyfriend, which goes just well enough for her to feel comfortable asking him to move in. I hate to call anybody a liar (honestly, I do) but that just reeks of retcon. The story functions perfectly well if you remove all mentions of D&D from it. And when your book is about D&D, that’s a problem.
Perhaps what bothers me most about the pervading aura of contrivance which surrounds these stories, is that I could actually write a book about how D&D changed my life. How it helped me see that the strict religious cult I was raised in was overly controlling. How it taught me the importance of establishing systems and impartial arbitration. How it made me a better writer, and gave me an outlet to explore my creativity before I had the confidence to write stories. I imagine many or most players would have similar experiences to share. In fact, an anthology of essays about how RPGs changed people’s lives is a fantastic idea…but I’m getting off track.
It is a slap in the face just how little D&D is actually present in this book. Each chapter generally contains two distinct parts. “The Problem,” which takes the form of an extended story from the author’s life, culminating in an obstacle which must be overcome. These are generally engaging tales, told in the author’s amusing style. The second part is “The (Attempted) Solution.” This is where D&D comes into the picture, with the author making a hair-brained attempt to use the game as a problem solving device. Generally the chapters are split about 50/50 between the two parts. That means that D&D is featured in about half of the book. This is despite the fact that D&D is almost certainly the reason people bought the book in the first place. If I had to identify the true subject matter of Everything I Need to Know…, it is really more about the Shelly Mazzanoble’s relationship with her mother than it is about Dungeons and Dragons.
I get that this book was not written for me, but I can’t for the life of me figure out who it was written for. It’s marketed to people who play tabletop RPGs, so whoever the target audience is, they must be some subset of tabletop gamers. Considering how infrequently D&D is actually talked about, and how every reference is explained in excessive detail, it must be aimed at very casual players, or perhaps potential players which Wizards of the Coast is hoping to ensnare with this book. Finally, add in the fact that the book includes more references to reality television than to gaming, and it becomes clear what this book actually is.
This book is marketing. Hell, Shely Mazzanoble even works in Wizards of the Coast’s marketing department. The idea is clearly for the book to be a handy gift for gamers to give their girlfriends, as a means of enticing them to play. And, honestly, I wouldn’t have a problem with that if not for how it was done. Women are underrepresented in our hobby. We’ve alienated them, and it’s good to reach out to them. But apparently, WotC thinks that women are some kind of mysterious creature which can only be coaxed into buying a product if the sales pitch contains numerous references to shoe shopping.
Since WotC doesn’t seem to understand this, allow me to spell it out: women gamers are gamers. When a woman buys a book about gaming, she’s looking for a book about gaming. She doesn’t need you to take the edge off of the “scary boy’s game” by interspersing it with references to Desperate Housewives and Sex in the City.
With all of that having been said, I want to add once more that Ms. Mazzanoble is not a bad writer. If the book were truly abysmal, I would not have finished it. The stories would have been very enjoyable had I not been tricked into purchasing the book under the pretense that it was about D&D. But that kind of thing is often a decision of the publisher, not the author. I’ll probably still read the author’s first book, Confessions of a Part Time Sorceress. Based on what I’ve read, it sounds like a far superior book.
I’d like to close this post by talking about my favorite part of the book: the last chapter. No, I’m not being glib. The last chapter is the only one which struck me as being real. The only chapter where I felt Dungeons and Dragons was essential to the story. If the rest of the book had been of the same quality as the last chapter, you would have read a very different review just now.
The final story in the book presents the problem of children. Shelly’s mother wants her to have some, whilst Shelly is downright opposed to the idea. None the less, when a minor emergency leaves Shelly in charge of her friend’s two kids, she needs to find a way to connect with them. Otherwise the entire evening will just be a lot of awkward staring. She suggests a few kid-friendly activities like watching a movie, but nothing engages the two until she recommends a game of Dungeons and Dragons. The experience is new and different, and the children excitedly play their roles and roll their dice. Shelly even lets them keep a D20, and learns from the children’s mother later on that she’s now their favorite person in the world. The whole experience leaves her feeling less terrified of children, and it wouldn’t have been possible without Dungeons and Dragons.
As I mentioned in a recent post, I’m very interested in taking old modules and updating the mechanics to be compatible with Pathfinder. And given that I’m such a huge fan of Vecna as a villain, Vecna Lives! was at the top of my list to read. I finished reading it awhile ago, and there were a couple things about it which I felt worth pondering publicly.
The one thing which is giving me the most trouble is instant and unavoidable death. I’ve always known that this was something which showed up in Gygaxian D&D, but I’ve never seriously thought about including it in a game before. I always looked on death without a saving throw as an outdated idea, one which had a kind of oldschool, hardcore charm, but not one I’d want to subject my players to. After all, I was bred on D&D 3.5, where it is a well known unwritten rule that no matter what players must always be given a chance to survive, even if that chance is just a roll of the dice.
However, if I want to update Vecna Lives! for Pathfinder, then I’m faced with a choice. Either I can include the few examples of “instant death, no saving throw” which show up in the module, or I can deviate from my attempt to be faithful to the original experience of the game. On the face of things, the rule that players must always have a chance to survive seems like a very good rule; nobody likes a game which makes them feel as though they were not given a fair chance to win. However, a saving throw is rarely the only time a player is given the opportunity to avoid a particular fate. It is the last opportunity. Actually, opportunity is somewhat of a misnomer, a character whose life rides on the success or failure of a saving throw is Schrödinger’s PC. As the die rolls the character is in a state of being both alive and dead at the same time, and if the die lands on 1, then we open the box and learn that the PC was dead the whole time. And when that happens, is it really any different from a GM simply declaring that the PC has died?
Of course, quantum physics aside, a die roll is still a chance to survive, and players are right to feel they deserve a chance to survive. But as I mentioned above, the saving throw is often the last chance to survive, not the only chance. If the party encounters a statue of a dragon with a gem clenched in its marble teeth, and an ancient language swearing death to any who would disturb the monument is scrawled around the base; then perhaps the rogue who snatches the gem before the wizard finishes deciphering the warnings deserves to die. Even if nobody could read the script, the rogue could have at least used a stick to try and knock the gem out of the dragon’s maw. Not only does the rogue have the opportunity to avoid death, but some adventuring sense offers much better odds than a saving throw.
Though if your GM puts such a gem in a pile of random treasure at the end of a dungeon, and whoever gets it in their share of the loot is declared dead, then your GM is a dick.
Furthermore, denying saving throws is not an all or nothing deal. In Vecna Lives! instant death effects appear twice if I recall correctly. The first is during the opening scene, where the players take control of powerful characters which have the sole purpose of being killed by the GM within minutes, just to show that this module means business. Later, if the PC’s choose to attack Vecna himself during a moment of distraction on his part, the evil god snuffs them out of existence with a thought. The former is a very special and uncommon circumstance, and the latter seems to me like a justified punishment for impossible stupidity. Attacking a god is not something a non-epic character is going to get away with.I see no need to make it more complicated than “um…you’re dead.”
Aside from these two specific instances, there is a potential third opportunity for the players to face (or wield!) instant death. Much of the adventure revolves around the classic D&D artifacts, the Hand and Eye of Vecna. According to the information on these artifacts at the back of the book, anyone touched by the full palm of the Hand of Vecna is killed with no saving throw. Which means that if you’re fighting someone who has the hand of Vecna, you’re one successful touch attack away from death. Now, the module never puts the player characters in a position where they will face an opponent who wields this deadly artifact, but I’m uncomfortable even having it exist in the game.
The question, though, is how to make it fair without neutering it. It is, after all, the severed hand of a deity. It should have a fearsome and terrible power for the players to tremble before. So how about this:
Someone with the Hand of Vecna can instantly kill anyone with 10HD or less on a successful touch attack (no saving throw). Creatures with more than 10HD are entitled to a fortitude save DC 20. On a failed save, the character dies. On a successful save, the character is reduced to 1 hit point and knocked prone. If the character with the hand also possesses the eye of Vecna, the DC to resist is raised to 25. (Saving throws based on D&D 3.5 Dungeon Master’s Guide)
Using this rule, players will feel almost exactly the same way about the hand: they’ll want to avoid it at all costs. But even if they can’t avoid it, or don’t even know that their enemy has it, then they at least have a chance at achieving a near-death experience, as opposed to dying outright.
Moving on, Vecna Lives! is also the first module I’ve read which has such a strong focus on mystery, detective work, and role playing. A lot of adventures include some of that, but this is a ninety five page module which downplays combat encounters, and has no dungeon crawls. The adventure goes from the players trying to learn who the bad guys are, to trying to find out where the bad guys are, to trying to figure out how to stop the bad guys. And [spoiler alert] even the final solution is essentially a matter of role playing, with the PCs summoning The Old One to duke it out with Vecna, evil god to evil god.
Games like that have always been my weakness as a GM. I love to plan them, but they never quite work out the way I hope they will. It often feels as though I’m stuck nudging the players along, giving them every hint until it feels like their presence at the table is redundant because I’m playing my own adventure. Granted, my group has admitted in the past that they don’t think they’re very good at looking for clues, but I still feel like they might have an easier time if I took lessons from Vecna Lives!
First off, there should be a variety of ways to reach any of the conclusions necessary to move forward in the storyline. In my games I’ve done things such as sending the characters catch some smugglers red handed, hoping that they would take the time to interrogate one of the smugglers. This would allow them to learn the name of the smuggler’s contact within the city’s criminal element, and thus allow the players to come closer to finding the den of the crime boss. The problem is that my players would never think to question the smuggler, leaving me to wonder how to move the game forward without stealing their sense of accomplishment.
Vecna Lives! readily admits that players may be dense sometimes. In fact it frequently uses language like “if they still don’t get that they need to do X, you may need to slap them upside the head,” or my personal favorite “you may need to give up on them.” However, despite the auspicious author’s candid comments about players who aren’t able to detect well, he also provided many paths of investigations for the characters to follow to reach the same goal. You might say that while the example of my game which I gave above constructs detective work as a linear exercise, Vecna Lives! provides GMs with an entire web of interconnected information for the PCs to discover.
For example, in trying to determine what happened to their predecessors (the powerful characters killed by the GM which I mentioned earlier), the players have the options of inquiring with the victim’s colleagues and friends, or of looking into what books those characters checked out of the city’s libraries before they departed on their ill fated journey. Talking to some friends might lead to other friends, and those friends might lead to specific libraries which can be investigated, and a book found there might lead the PCs to consult an expert on the book’s subject matter to learn even more.
I’ve already got outlines for the next few games I’ll be running with all of my groups, but I’m already excited to give mystery based sessions another attempt.
As a final word, I’d like to give a nod to a nice role-playing helper the module provides.
The bulk of the adventure is meant to be played by 8 pre-generated characters detailed in the back of the book. The characters are a rag-tag group, banded together by their relationship to the more powerful characters killed off in the first few minutes of the adventure. Each character’s description is understandably short, but I was very pleased that they allocated the space in each of the 8 character descriptions to write seven paragraphs about that character’s relationships with the other seven PCs. Reading over those descriptions gave me a sense of how the characters will work as a group. And I noticed that more than a few characters had a relationship which could provide interesting role playing opportunities. Such as the half-elf who thought the paladin was standoffish, while the paladin was only distant because the half elf reminded him of his own son. A player playing the Half Elf might easily choose to forsake the highroad and lash out at the paladin, only to have the paladin’s player choose to break down crying. As a GM who often thinks about ways to better encourage my players to role play, I found this both simple, and potentially effective.
I don’t know when I’ll get around to updating this 95 page monster to Pathfinder, but I’ll be sure to post it when I do. Don’t be surprised if years pass.
