Tag: System Critique

A Learning Experience

This past Saturday was a day of firsts for me. It had been awhile since I’d been able to get a group together for a gaming session, so many of the things I’ve been thinking about and writing about got a test-run during this weekend’s game. I edited everyone’s character sheets before the game to make note of their current encumbrance, and I made sure all of my treasure had encumbrance noted. I prepared a few hex-crawl sections for the game, complete with detailed encounter tables. I also made an attempt  to include time tracking in my campaign, which I really had no idea how to do, but I tried to work off of some supposition. I also tried a few things which I haven’t written about; including weather in my games, using poker chips to track the party’s resources, and writing down treasure on index cards. I believe those last two were originally proposed by Telecanter.

Like I said, it was an entire day of firsts. Some things worked well, some things didn’t, and most others fell somewhere in between. So now that the game is over, it’s time to review, and revise. Experience is our greatest teacher so long as we take the time to listen to it!

Encumbrance

(Using my Encumbrance system). As I mentioned, I went through everyone’s character sheet and put a red underline under everything which would add to their encumbrance, then put their totals, as well as their light/medium/heavy load ranges on their character sheets. When everyone arrived, I explained the new system to them briefly. I asked them to keep track of their encumbrance during play and let me know if they started carrying a medium or heavy load. I was somewhat surprised that this did not really impact the speed of play even slightly. There were a few conversations about who should carry what, but they were brief, and entirely appropriate. Looking over their character sheets now (this group always leaves their sheets with me, for some reason. It’s not something I normally require), it seems like everybody did a good job. I can tell that the number was erased and increased whenever appropriate.

I don’t feel as though the system has been sufficiently stress-tested, though. Nobody is yet carrying anything other than a light load, so penalties have not come into play. However, for now, I’m completely satisfied with my encumbrance system, and look forward to seeing it in action more often.

Resource Tracking with Poker Chips

I actually did talk about this once before, way back in November when I said I didn’t like it. But the more I’ve thought about it, the more it seems completely reasonable, and the less my objections seemed to be relevant. That’s what I get for doubting Telecanter’s genius. I used white poker chips to represent arrows (and gave the ranger 24, which I only just now remember should have been included in his encumbrance. Whoops!), red poker chips to represent torches/lantern oil, and blue poker chips to represent rations. I had a large bowl on the table where everyone could toss their chips when they consumed a resource, and pull them out when they renewed that resource.

It worked fantastically. Better than fantastically; it worked perfectly! Everyone quickly got into the habit of tossing their rations into the bowl at the end of the day. They even did it when I forgot to tell them to. The ranger and I both forgot to toss his arrows in the bowl, but that’s only because it took a few hours for the party to engage anything in combat. Tracking torches has been a little bit trickier, but only because of my difficulties relating to…

Time Tracking

(Using my suppositions on the subject) Time tracking didn’t work as well as it could have, but it didn’t not work. During the first few hours of the game, while the party was hex crawling, I kept track of the when the day began and ended, which I think is plenty. I didn’t really take into account any time spent in combat, in town, or otherwise interacting with NPCs, but maybe that’s unnecessary. Later in the game, once the party entered the dungeon, my original plan was to keep track of time in 10 minute turns. I was only somewhat successful in this. I took a page from Magic: The Gathering and used a 12 sided die to keep track of time. After the first 10 minutes, I set it in front of me with the 1 facing up. After another 10 minutes passed, I turned it to 2, and so on. Once it hit 12 I would note that two hours had passed, and start the count over. When I decided to turn it was this issue. I typically assumed that each combat required enough rest afterwards to count as 10 minutes, and that if the players spent more than a few moments in a room it should count for 10 minutes. I also moved the counter up twice when the rogue took 20 on a perception check to find traps.

The whole thing felt messy, but I’m not entirely certain how I could do it better. This will require further in-game experience to fully evaluate.

Weather

I totally spaced on this. Didn’t even mention it during the game, let alone have it affect combat in any way. GM fail.

Treasure on Index Cards

I believe this is something I first red on Telecanter’s blog. Before the game I spent $1.18 on a pack of 300 index cards. Anytime I added a pile of treasure or a chest into my notes, I would write everything down on an Index card. A typical card would be headed with something like “Crypt of Bonegut the Stone Fisted; Chest in room 8” and would include the number of gold pieces, gems, and other oddities the characters found. I also wrote a number in red next to any item which would increase a player’s encumbrance.

I really think these cards improved play by a great deal. Anytime they made a discovery, I’d toss a card over the GM screen, and one of them would read off the items to the others. It was really fun to hear them wonder “what are these bottles of blue liquid?” (Healing Potions), and “A stick with a tiny ruby at the tip!?” (Wand of Fireball with 3 charges left). Fortunately the party’s sorceress, Phoenix Dark, was more than capable of identifying all of these objects. Having something visual seemed to help the players in dividing up the loot amongst themselves, and I really don’t think my encumbrance system would have worked anywhere near as well without these cards.

Obviously it would be more difficult to use these in randomly generated dungeons, but they were so useful in this game that they will certainly have a place in any future games I run.

Hex Crawling

(Using my thoughts on how to make travel more engaging, as well as my thoughts on creating an encounter table.) This did not go so well. At least I don’t think so. The players understood the concept well enough, and I won’t say that anyone appeared to be excessively bored. But with all the rolling, marking down of terrain type, and slowly moving the piece one hex at a time, I think everyone was getting a little impatient. More than once the player who was controlling the party’s marker would absentmindedly move it several spaces at once, which says to me that they were more eager to reach their destination than they were to know what they encountered while getting there.

I believe that part of the issue may have been the way I was marking down the terrain type. A friend of mine got me a nice table-sized, wet-erase hex map for Christmas, so I gave the party a little red bead to represent themselves with, and had them move one hex at a time. Once they entered a hex, I would quickly use one of my markers to identify what the terrain type of the hex was. It was a clumsy method of doing things. One of my players suggested that I let her mark the map, which now seems like a much better idea. It would both involve the players more in the process, and would force me to verbally identify each terrain type (which I was failing to do after awhile.)

If anybody has advice on this, or perhaps an audio recording of a successful hex crawl, I would be very appreciative.

Skills

This isn’t exactly new, but it is something I learned. The more I play with skills, the more I agree with my friends in the OSR movement: the elaborate skills system used in Pathfinder is bad. It’s better than D&D 3.5’s, but it’s still in severe need of being redesigned. Not only does it serve as a source of confusion for new players, but it can be a pain-in-the-ass during play. Having the rogue roll to search for traps at every door quickly became a source of exasperation. And often when I knew I “should” be asking for skill checks, I instead simply allowed players to perform tasks. The sorceress was able to identify magic items, the Ranger with Knowledge(Dungeoneering) was able to identify statues of gnomes as being real gnomes under a petrification spell, etc. I’m not ready to completely abandon a skill system, but I’ll certainly be devoting some attention to it in the coming months.

Funny Story…

That’s everything I’d like to share about what I learned from this most recent game. However, before ending this post, I would like to share one funny story / word of warning for other GMs.

The first boss in my dungeon was a skeletal orc with some fancy fighter abilities. When the players entered the room, it would be lying dead on a slab the way a good corpse should. On the floor around it was scattered a great deal of treasure. The idea was that the players would recognize that as soon as they touched the treasure, the orc would come alive and attack them. So they’d prepare themselves for battle, and carefully grab some of the treasure. When the orc never stirred, they’d figure they were wrong, and go on their way. 20 minutes AFTER they took the treasure, the Orc skeleton would come alive, and start hunting for them in the dungeon. It would be particularly good if he found them whilst they were engaged with some other creature.

When my players finally enter this room, they suspect a trap. So my party’s rogue, Poker, inspects the stone slab the orc is lying on. This I had not expected. Given that rogues receive the “trapfinding” ability at level one, which allows them to detect and disable magical traps, I figured the rogue might have a chance to notice something was amiss here. I told him that he detected a very faint, dormant necromatic aura. Upon hearing this, my players did the logical thing:

The Ranger, whose favored enemy was undead, smashed the skeleton’s head with his sword.

All I could do was bury my face in my hands and give the ranger 3 XP for killing the boss.

Making Encumbrance Work

Way back in November I wrote a piece entitled “Stuff Which Never Works.” The post details three elements of adventure gaming which I personally have never seen work well: ammunition tracking, encumbrance, and chase scenes. I actually started with a much larger list of things which need to be improved, but I boiled it down to these three items because each of them strike me as something which ought to work. Running out of arrows in the middle of combat, being unable to carry every single piece of treasure out of a collapsing dungeon, fleeing for your life; these are all staples of the novels and films which inspire our adventuring spirit. I tried to offer suggestions for improving the way each of these issues could be handled in Pathfinder, but none of my suggestions were very thoroughly considered, and I haven’t implemented anything in my games. However, as I mentioned in my much more recent post “Making Travel More Engaging,” the benefits of encumbrance are too valuable to pass up when you’re running a hex crawl.

Before we start crafting a house rule, though, it’s always important to have a thorough understanding of how the official rules on the subject work. The excerpts from the book would be longer than I’d like to post here, but you can find the basic information starting on page 169 of the Pathfinder Core Rulebook under “Carrying Capacity.” The information is arranged somewhat awkwardly in the book, so you may want to use the Pathfinder SRD entry on Carrying Capacity instead. The essential breakdown of the rule is that you consult table 7-4 to determine what your character’s light, medium, and heavy loads are based on their strength. Characters of larger or smaller sizes must multiply or divide the listed weights to get their correct carrying capacities. Light loads can can be carried with no penalties, while medium and heavy loads each reduce a characters maximum dexterity and speed, as well as bestowing a skill check penalty. A character’s maximum load is the upper-range of of their listed “heavy load.” Twice the maximum weight can be lifted, but characters can only hobble around in 5ft steps. Up to five times a character’s maximum load can be pushed or dragged along even ground.

I think I can safely say that these rules are bad. I know I just finished saying that encumbrance is important, but it’s not that important. Figuring out whether their character is straining under the weight of their backpack is not why your players are sitting around your table. They’re sitting around your table because they want to go on adventures! They want to slay monsters and recover treasures and create fantastic, epic stories of heroism together!  Nobody wants to spend time thumbing through the equipment chapter of the rulebook to find the weight of anything from a spyglass to a coil of rope. Anytime they got found a potion in a chest, or fired 10 arrows, they’d need to remember to recalculate their encumbrance. Not to mention consulting a chart every time their strength changes! With all of the abilities, potions, spells, and magic items that can alter a character’s strength, requiring the players to flip through the rulebook to find table 7-4 every time their strength changes is unacceptable.

I realize that the game intends for people to play encumbrance less than exactly. Nobody is expected to track every single potion’s weight as it is added to and removed from the inventory. And 90% of the time that a character’s strength changes, knowing how their carrying capacity changes won’t be relevant. But the way in which the system is designed, that kind of exhaustive tracking is the ideal. Pathfinder’s encumbrance system works best when it is handled by a computer, and that is unacceptable to me. No rule that complicated should be allowed to remain in a tabletop RPG. And that is why I’ve neglected encumbrance for so many years.

But as I’ve come to appreciate, encumbrance adds so much to a game. When the party is traveling, encumbrance affects their speed, which in turn changes how many days it can take to reach their destination. The need for the players to make decisions for how they will travel–decisions which affect how well they can travel–can be engaging. More importantly, anything the players need to leave behind is something they can come back for later. Returning to a dungeon to retrieve the piles of gold they were unable to carry can be an adventure in itself, requiring them to face unique challenges such as getting a large cart through the wilderness. In addition, it encourages the players to establish a base of operations. In all the time I’ve been GMing games, my players have never been really interested in buying a house in the city, or establishing a stronghold all their own, and it’s because they could carry as much as they wanted to on their backs. But if they can’t carry everything, they’re going to want to establish a place to keep everything. And once they have a fixed location, I can design adventures where those homes are attacked or burgled. And, perhaps best of all, enforcing an encumbrance system causes a bag of holding to actually mean something.

Assuming you’ve agreed with me up to this point, we’ve established that 1) an encumbrance system is valuable to the game, and 2) the current encumbrance system is unacceptably bad. So step three is obvious: we make a better encumbrance system and use that instead.

The Rule: Items are either Significant, or Insignificant, as determined by the GM. A character may carry any number of insignificant items without penalty. Significant items may be determined on the basis of either weight, or size, and most have a base encumbrance 1. Exceptionally heavy or unwieldy items may have an encumbrance of 2 or more. A character’s carrying capacity is based off of their strength score. An encumbrance equal to a character’s strength score is considered a light load, while a medium load would be twice that, and a heavy load would be three times that. Quadrapeds, such as horses, have double the standard encumbrance capacity. Lightly encumbered characters suffer no penalty. Characters with a medium encumbrance have their speed reduced by 1/4, and take a -3 penalty on all rolls relating to physical activity. Heavily encumbered characters have their speed reduced by 1/2, and take a -6 penalty on all rolls relating to physical activity.

That’s the entire rule. It can be easily memorized, and doesn’t require looking at any charts. No accommodations need to be made for larger or smaller characters, because those differences will likely already be accounted for by the character’s strength. And in cases where they are not, I see no reason to penalize a halfling for being strong, or reward an giant for being weak. All that remains to be done is to determine what is significant? The rule establishes that it is determined by the GM, but there needs to be a baseline suggestion.

The simple answer is that a significant item is any item which is heavy enough, or large enough, for the character to take notice of its addition to their equipment. If I’m wearing a backpack, and someone places a candle, or a pair of manacles, or a blanket in it, then I’m not likely to notice  the addition of the weight. I might notice somebody fiddling with my backpack, but if they were sly about it, I might never know that my pack was technically heavier. And in some cases, an item might be noticeable not because it is heavy, but because it is large. A rapier, for example, is a good 4 feet long or more from pommel to point–even though it might be considered pretty light. Or, if you prefer, consider a fully inflated beach ball. It may weigh next to nothing, but there’s no way you’d miss its addition to your pack. If you need a more exact conversion, then use 5lb as a cutoff for insignificant items. That means that items such as a flask, grappling hook, hammer, or  iron pot will be considered insignificant items. But items like a 10ft pole, tent, portable ram, or a 50ft coil of rope would be considered significant.

Now that we have a method to figure out what a significant item is, the question becomes: how heavy does a significant item need to be to count for more than 1 encumbrance? Obviously there needs to be an upward limit on which significant items only count for 1. Otherwise a character with a strength of 12 could carry around a dozen 2-ton golden statues without hitting medium encumbrance. Once again, this should be determined by the GM. As a baseline, something which would normally require both hands to hold (such as a suit of full plate) should be considered to count for 2 encumbrance. If, on top of being heavy, it is also large (such as an empty chest) it might count as 3 or 4 encumbrance. Again, if you would like a more exact conversion, use 30lb as the weight at which a significant item becomes worth 2 encumbrance. Going from there you could use 60lb for three encumbrance, 90lb for four encumbrance, etc.

There is one major flaw with this system to keep in mind: consumables. Food rations, torches, ammunition for bows and crossbows, and in particular money. Items like these are the kinds of things which players will carry an infinite amount of if they can. It doesn’t really matter all that much if your players decide they want to carry 40 cooking pots, but if you treat arrows as an insignificant item, then you may as well give the ranger a Quiver of Infinite Arrows at first level. To solve that problem, you can have vendors sell consumables in groups which amount to a single significant item. Some basic examples:

  • 1 week of rations (1 significant item.)
  • 20 arrows/bolts/shurikens/throwing knives (1 significant item)
  • 5 bags of caltrops / flasks of oil / torches (1 significant item)
  • 250 coins of any denomination (1 significant item)

Keep in mind that this system is not meant to approximate reality. It is very possible for characters to end up carrying much more than they should be able to. But assuming you’re playing with rational adults, they’re not going to be trying to game the encumbrance system. The idea is not to make encumbrance accurate, it is to make encumbrance function in such a way that it serves its purpose with a minimum amount of negative impact on play. And that’s what I think this system does.

I would love feedback on this, though. Having never played with encumbrance myself, this is all just theory.

Of Forgotten Lore and Ancient Sourcebooks

Huh…for some reason, I find it somewhat intimidating to actually sit down and type up a post on the new site. Which might have something to do with breaking 100 hits in a single day for the very first time, largely thanks to a link from Hack & Slash. Hello new readers! Hope you’re enjoying yourselves.

I’m Pathfinder player and a Paizo fan. I think that much has been made pretty clear on this site. I am also a firm believer in being open about criticism. Criticism drives improvement. If we don’t criticize the things we love, then any changes made to what we love will be based on the criticisms of someone else. Besides, no one who is genuinely interested in creating something they can be proud of ever shies away from good criticism. On the contrary, it’s a highly sought upon treasure. When I ask someone to critique my writing ninety-nine people out of every hundred will tell me it’s “great.”

I know it’s not great. I want it to be great. That’s why I asked you to tell me why it’s not great.

Last week, I criticized modern game developers for failing to include any time management in their games. A criticism which ended up going on so long that it spawned a follow up post that same week. In the past, I’ve also criticized modern game designers for the lack of information on hex mapping. These are just two amongst a sea of criticisms I have for Pathfinder and the various modern iterations of Dungeons and Dragons. The common thread which connects these two criticisms, though, is that both of them used to be part of the game, but were dropped for no cogent reason I can discern.

 Unfortunately, there are numerous game elements like this. Mechanisms which have, for whatever reason, fallen out of use. I’m sure it always sounded like a good idea at the time, and that’s okay! Elegance of design is important, so if a game’s developers thought they were streamlining gameplay by dropping superfluous systems, then good on them. But in many cases it seems to me as though they were wrong, and ought to start reversing their mistakes. I’ve already written on the topic of time management and hex maps, here are a few other gameplay mechanics which RPG designers used in the old days, and which modern RPG designers really ought to be talking about.

Combat Facing

Have I mentioned I like rogues? Because I like rogues. I play so many rogues, that the one time I didn’t play a rogue, I had to multiclass into rogue, because my GM was conditioned to fill his adventures with opportunities for sneaking and lockpicking. I’m trying to branch out into other classes, but rogues will always have a very special place in my heart.

Part of the reason I love rogues as much as I do is their reliance on a large variety of skills, most of which are not well suited to combat. At least not face-to-face, even-steven, Combat As Sport style combat. Rogues function best when you’re not quite sure what they’re doing. If they just ran behind a tree, you don’t know if they’re trying to lure you into a trap, retrieve a hidden weapon, disappear into the bushes, climb the tree so they can leap down on you from above, or something entirely different which you haven’t even considered. Any class can play this way, but it is a rogue’s specialty. And it’s a play style which is severely hampered by D&D 3.5 and Pathfinder’s “360 degree field of vision.”

Characters in these modern incarnations of tabletop RPGs are not considered to be “facing” in any particular direction. They are always looking all around them at all times. No matter where you’re standing relative to a character, you are in that character’s full view, unless there is something between you. The idea was to simplify combat, which seems rather silly, since D&D 3rd edition added a number of largely superfluous rules.

In fairness, combat facing has not been completely neglected, but an optional rule in a supplemental book is not good enough. This should be part of the core combat system, no question.

Wizards Learning Spells at Random

A couple months ago, I wrote a post about an alternative to the current methods by which Wizards learn spells in Pathfinder. I’ll freely admit it’s not one of my better posts, but give me a break. I was severely sleep deprived and wrote the whole damned thing in a rush before work. My hope was that by removing the Wizard’s ability to automatically learn two new spells upon leveling up (and placing a larger emphasis on other methods for learning spells) we could partially overcome the vast power gap between casters and non-casters which has plagued this generation of games. I still think it’s a solid idea, but shortly after posting it, -C of Hack and Slash informed me that balance was less of an issue in older editions because Wizards didn’t get to select which spells they would learn, but rather, learned new spells at random each level.

I hold to my initial reaction upon learning this: that it doesn’t make any sense, but it sounds incredibly awesome. On the one hand, it seems silly to me that a Wizard would ever not be aware of what he or she was studying. Wizards (or “Magic Users” in the more traditional terminology) are scholars, they learn magic through something akin to the scientific method: observe, hypothesize, experiment, theorize. So if a spell which a wizard has mastered is a “Magical Theory,” shouldn’t they figure out which spells they’re working on in the “observation” or “experimentation” stages?

That having been said, there’s an undeniable charm to the idea. Being thrown a completely random grab-bag of spells, and then being forced to figure out how to use them most efficiently, sounds fun to me. I doubt future incarnations of Pathfinder will revert back to randomly determining spells. Nor do I think they should. But it’s certainly something which we should be talking about. Maybe as a house rule, or perhaps something which we could use for the sorcerer, to further differentiate it from the Wizard.

Incidentally, there’s an entire post about this issue over on Hack & Slash.

Monster Activity Cycles & Diets

These are extremely minor, which makes it all the more strange that I even need to talk about them. In old editions of Dungeons and Dragons, each monster had both an “Activity Cycle,” and a “Diet” listed in their stat block. The purpose of these is pretty simple. The activity cycle let GMs know when a creature was active. If it was nocturnal, the GM knew not to have it attack during the day, if it had an activity cycle of “any,” then the GM knew it didn’t matter, and so on. In most fantasy books or films, night is a particularly dangerous time when particularly vile monsters are on the prowl, so it makes good sense for GMs to be aware of when monsters can be active.  The diet of a monster is, of course, what they eat. Also useful, since herbivores are unlikely to try and eat adventurers, yet may still pose dangers for other reasons.

I wouldn’t say that either of these rank high enough on the “usefulness” scale to qualify Pathfinder as severely flawed for lacking them. However, I can see no reason not to include them. If the choice is between knowing when my players are in danger from trolls, and knowing which feats a typical troll has, then I would much rather know the activity cycle.

Experience Points based on Gold Pieces

Now, personally, I’m a fan of my Simple XP system. It has improved my game by an immeasurable degree. But if we’re going to be using large experience point rewards, why not use the original system wherein 1 gold piece granted a character 1 experience point? I’ve never personally played with this system, nor have I researched it in great detail, but on the surface it seems simple and logical. If experience points are a measure of the useful experience your character has gained, then why do we only really receive it for defeating monsters? If the goal of adventuring is to find treasure, then we should reward equally all methods of acquiring that treasure. The group who cleverly sneaks around a monster, or convinces a less intelligent monster to give them the treasure freely, deserves just as much credit as the group who kicks down the door and stabs everything around them until there’s nothing left between them the shiny shiny gold.

More Supplements for Game Masters

Looking over the various first edition Dungeons and Dragons stuff I’ve got, I notice that very little of it is aimed towards players, most of it is aimed towards GMs. Whereas when I look at my extensive collection of D&D 3rd edition and Pathfinder books, I notice that most of them are geared primarily towards players.

It makes good business sense, really. For every GM, there are what? An average of three players? Four? More? There are more potential customers for a player’s handbook than there are for a dungeon master’s guide. I’m sure the shift in priorities has made a lot of money for the developers of these games, and that’s cool with me. I would never ask a company to focus on a less-profitable demographic simply because it is my preference. Though I would question whether or not it is a more profitable demographic. In my experience, Players own the core rules, and mooch off the GM for everything else.

But even if it is more profitable to market to players, I’d like to see more books for Game Masters out there. Pathfinder has taken a step in the right direction with their excellent Game Mastery Guide, which is easily my favorite Pathfinder supplement thus far. I’d like to see them take it further with a Game Domination Guide, then perhaps a Game Supremacy Guide.

Remember this, Paizo: the collective of Game Masters are 100 times more effective than any marketing department. We’re the ones who find new players, and draw them in. The better we are at running games, the happier our players will be, and the more likely that they’ll purchase your products.

Are there any other oldschool game mechanics you’d like modern game developers to be learning from? Let me know in the comments! If nothing else, I can better educate myself.

Time Management

Allow me to be clear; I play modern tabletop games. Pathfinder is my game of choice, and I believe Paizo is a company with the potential to be a driving force of innovation within the gaming industry. I love rulebooks which are heavy enough to break your toe if you drop them, I love having mountains of build options for my characters, and I love a game which has functional rules for making detailed monster builds. Sure it’s a waste of time if you’re doing it for every monster in every game, but who says you need to? And no, modern rules are not perfect. I think I’ve made that clear with posts like The Problem with Feats, and Stuff Which Never Works. I’d like to see some serious revisions to the way modern game developers look at games.

I also believe in the importance of learning from history. Whether you are trying to run a nation, a classroom, or just a game table, history can be your greatest teacher. Our forebears were, believe it or not, just as smart as we are. They didn’t have all the tools we have today, which is why we sometimes forget just how clever they were. But if anything, lack of tools only made them more ingenious, until one of them was so ingenious that they made a tool so that the given task would never be quite so difficult ever again.

Now, do not mistake me: I do not look into the past with rose colored glasses, as some do. Anytime I hear someone rambling about how things were ‘better’ in the ‘old days,’ I have to roll my eyes a little.* More often than not the speaker in question is just allowing nostalgia to cloud their perceptions. However, the fact that things have, overall, improved, does not mean that our very clever forebears didn’t have amazing ideas which never reached us. And the best part about those clever people being in the past is that we can look around and see for ourselves how their ideas worked out. So even though I do consider myself a modern gamer, I frequently look to the works of Gygax, Arneson, and others who worked on games in the early days.

And in reading these early works, I’ve frequently come across the concept of time management. Specifically, that it is important to track time not only in combat, but out of it as well. It is necessary, according to Gygax, for a Dungeon Master to keep track of in-game time throughout the entire session. This is mentioned a number of time throughout the numerous iterations of D&D’s first edition, but nowhere is it more clear than in the original Dungeon Master’s Guide–universally regarded among the most authoritative works on the subject of role playing games.

TIME IN THE CAMPAIGN
“Game time is of utmost importance. Failure to keep careful track of time expenditure by player characters will result in many anomalies in the game. The stricture of time is what makes recovery of hit points meaningful. Likewise, the time spent adventuring in wilderness areas removes concerned characters from their base of operation–be they rented chambers or battlemented strongholds. Certainly the most important time stricture pertains to the manufacturing of magic items, for during the period of such activity no adventuring can be done. Time is also considered in gaining levels and learning new languages and more. All of these demands upon game time force choices upon player characters, and likewise number their days of game life.

One of the things stress ed in the original game of D&D was the importance of recording game time with respect to each and every player character in a campaign. In AD&D it is emphasized even more: YOU CAN NOT HAVE A MEANINGFUL CAMPAIGN IF STRICT TIME RECORDS ARE NOT KEPT.”

-Gary Gygax, Dungeon Master’s Guide

The emphasis, by the way, is not mine. That’s Gary Gygax throwing up caps, because this is that important to him.

When I first read about how important Gary considered time management, I was taken aback. On the one hand, I couldn’t understand how time management was even supposed to work. And on the other hand, I was offended by the thought that every campaign I had run in the past was not “meaningful,” simply because we didn’t keep track of time. I’ve run some damn good games in my years as a GM. Why does the fact that I’ve never even attempted to keep track of time invalidate that?

Then I took a deep breath, remembered that I pride myself on being rational, and tried to stop throwing an internal hissy fit before anyone caught me in the act.

The fact that I’ve never attempted time management before doesn’t invalidate all the good games I’ve run. They were good games, everybody had fun, and nothing will change that. The question is whether those games were good because of, independent from, or despite my lack of time management. And if I’m being honest with myself, I can think of a lot of things which would improve if I was better at tracking in-game time. And even though I can’t think of an easy way to manage in-game time, the fact of the matter is that Gygax did it, and many other game masters do it, so it must be possible. I am simply ignorant of the methodology, and that can remedied with learning.

So I did some more reading. First through Gygax’s Dungeon Master’s Guide, then through the OSRIC manual, since clarity was not always a strong point of Gary’s writing. I also refreshed myself on the movement rules as stated on pages 170-172, 192-194 of the Pathfinder Core Rulebook, since movement is one of the core elements time management affects. Pathfinder divides movement into Tactical, Local, and Overland, which I think functions as a good basis for a modern system of time management.

Tactical Time is managed in the basic units which we’re all familiar with. A tactical (or ‘combat’) round is six seconds long. In these six seconds, every combatant gets a turn. Ten rounds make a minute, sixty minutes make an hour, etc. Local Time is what you might use if you’re delving into a dungeon, or exploring a town. Taking a page from OSRIC, it seems like the best unit of time for Local Time is 10 minutes. That’s long enough that it shouldn’t significantly slow down the players as they try to get things accomplished in game time, but short enough that it shouldn’t need to be divided further for players to complete small actions. Overland Time is tricky. I’m not sure whether it should be measured in hours, or in days. I think the best solution is to use days and hours both as units of measure, depending on what the players want to do. If they’re just traveling in to a destination, days will work fine, but if they’d like to spend part of their day exploring the area they’re already at, and the rest of the day traveling, then breaking things down into hours could be helpful.

I haven’t tried this yet, so I have no idea how it will play out in a game, but the more I think about it, the more it seems like time management is actually an awesome idea. Casters will actually have to be careful with their spells if the party doesn’t want to stop to rest simply because they ran out of spells within the first few hours of the day. And if a caster does run out of spells, this could give non-caster classes a real opportunity to shine. Potion durations and non-magical hit point recovery become relevant! The players could actually be forced to make decisions based on how much time something will take, or be faced with time-sensitive goals! The very notion that I’ve never done this before begins to seem ludicrous.

I have no idea why modern games stopped emphasizing time management, and why they never developed better systems for implementing it. It seems to be the same problem I discussed a few months ago in my “Why Hex Maps Need to Come Back” post. For some reason, modern gaming developers decided to arbitrarily throw something away without coming up with a replacement for it. And us poor kids who were raised on D&D 3.5 or Pathfinder are stuck with an incomplete picture of how role playings games can best be played, until we start looking back through gaming’s history for guides.

As I stated in the opening of this post, I have a lot of faith in Paizo’s ability to be an important force for innovation in RPGs. They should start by bringing back some of these senselessly abandoned concepts.

*To clarify: this is not always the case. Occasionally people will have well reasoned arguments for why they prefer something old over something new. For example, members of the Old School Roleplaying/Renaissance community have some very solid reasons for preferring 1980s style tabletop RPGs over more modern games. Likewise, I like to think that I have some very solid reasons for feeling that recent expansions of World of Warcraft have reduced the game’s quality in many ways.

Monstrous Culture

Culture is important. No matter how much of an individual we think we are, each and every one of us is shaped by our culture in profound ways which we aren’t even aware of. For example, those of us who pride ourselves on individualism? We probably come from cultures, like the U.S., which emphasize individualism as a positive trait. Given all the fundamental ways in which our culture shapes us, it should be obvious that understanding a person’s culture is an essential element in understanding their outlook. Where am I going with this?

The cultures of the most basic, most iconic monstrous races in fantasy adventure games are all shit. And it ought to change, because I’m tired of ostensibly different creatures being functionally identical. Take, for example, four of the paragon monstrous races which have been harassing adventurers since first edition D&D: Orcs, Goblins, Kobolds, and Gnolls. Below, I’ve reduced the small amounts of cultural information for each of those races, taken from the Pathfinder Bestiary, to bullet points. If you’d like to check my work, these monsters can be found on pages 155, 156, 183, and 222.

Orcs…
Are violent and aggressive.
Are led by whoever is strongest.
Take what they want by force.
Don’t have regard for the lives of others.
Are not good at farming or herding.
Prefer to take things from others rather than earn those things for themselves.
Their largest group is a “band.”

Goblins…
Are filled with hatred.
Live in dark places and caves.
Are superstitious.
Scavenge items from the more civilized races rather than producing anything for themselves.
Are universally illiterate.
Their larges group is a “tribe.”

Kobolds…
Live in caves and other dark places.
Are overly proud of their distant relationship to dragons.
Are cowardly.
Are schemers.
Prefer to attack in large groups.
Their largest group is a “tribe.”

Gnolls…
Prefer to scavange or steal kills, rather than hunt themselves.
View non-Gnolls as either meat, or slaves.
Enjoy fighting, but only if they have an overwhelming advantage.
See no value in courage or valor.
Their largest group is a “tribe.”

Based on those elements, how different are those four really? Is a goblin’s rage significantly different from the violence and aggressiveness of orcs? Why do Orcs, Goblins, and Gnolls all universally prefer to take rather than to make? The similarities become even more obvious if you expand the cultural definitions beyond what is found in the scant few lines offered in the bestiary. Ask any gamer to give you the primary characteristic of goblins, and I’ll bet you a shiny new platinum piece that they’ll say “cowardice” nine times out of ten. That makes three out of four monstrous races which, despite supposedly being threatening, are culturally defined by their cowardice.

Most people who play tabletop games are familiar with the phrase “humans in funny hats.” A human in a funny hat is a non-human character who is played without regard for race defining characteristics. Such as a dwarf who doesn’t care for gold, or ale, or stonework, and prefers to live above ground. Such characters are, essentially, being played as humans. They’re merely wearing the skin, or the ‘hat,’ of another race.

Here I think we’re dealing with a similar problem. Out of four monsters, most of their cultural traits overlap with each other. The problem only becomes more pronounced if you begin to add more creatures, such as lizardfolk or bugbears. In the end there really seems to be only one or two different types of monster cultures in play, reiterated through lizard people, dog people, dragon people, green people, small green people, and so on. A GM who wants his players to face a large force of angry, marauding creatures without regard for human life could sub in any one of these races without needing to alter how his or her campaign is constructed at all.

I’d like to try to develop legitimately distinct cultures for each of the monstrous races in my campaigns, starting with these four.

Orcs
I’m rather fond of the “noble savage” version of orcs put forth in the Warcraft games. I’m not sure where this depiction of orcs originates, but I think it has merit. A race which is warlike and brutal, but which also holds honor above all other concerns. Of course, different Orcish subcultures define honor on their own terms. For some it might mean victory in fair combat, for others it might simply mean the number of notches on a warrior’s axe.

Given their warlike nature, I would think that Orcs are carnivorous rather than omnivorous. They are master hunters, and the hunt is a central theme in their culture. Orcs often attack other orcs, or other races, on sight. Orcs who have not spent a great deal of time amongst other races will not understand that non-orcs do not view fighting and death to be desirable.

Given their constant warring, both with themselves and with other races, most Orcish tribes lag far behind other species technologically.

Goblins
Of all the monstrous races, I think goblins are most fit to keep most of the traditional monster culture. They are a weak and cowardly tribal people, who feel anger and rage more strongly than any of their other emotions. Since they rely on each other for self preservation, they turn their anger outward, towards other races. Though plenty of goblin squabbles still turn deadly.

They are a sadistic lot, and enjoy taking out their anger and their hate on those who can’t properly defend themselves; be it small animals, commoners, or adventurers unprepared for the sheer number of goblins they faced.

Goblins are also stupid and superstitious, often attributing magical or divine properties to the mundane. And lastly, goblins are scavengers. They live in caves or in abandoned structures, and like to collect items stolen from other races.

Kobolds
I went over some of my thoughts on Kobolds in my recent Magical Marvels post. I view them as a humble people, who look to dragons as their great rulers or heroes. They recognize that they are weak, and do not seek to prove themselves in combat against other groups or races. Their unassuming nature has made them the doormats of the world, which has prevented them from becoming as technologically advanced as the other races. And since most kobolds prefer to spend their entire lives living with their tribe, few kobolds go out into the world to bring knowledge back to their people.

Their lack of advancement is a shame, because despite their humble nature, kobolds are remarkably clever. The very few who do manage to summon the courage to leave their people, and then are lucky enough to encounter kindly and learned fellows, have proven to be quick learners. More than one great general throughout history has kept a kobold adviser. Many great researchers and wizards have also had kobold assistants. In candid moments, those generals, researchers, and wizards might even admit that some of their great accomplishments were really the work of their kobold associate.

Gnolls
Gnolls are, essentially, 9ft tall intelligent Hyenas. So we just need to scroll down to the behavior section of the wikipedia page and…well some of the basic traits I outlined above actually work pretty well. Gnolls are scavengers and kill stealers. However, they are anything but cowardly as fighters. They fight ferociously, and without mercy. Their greater size compared to other humanoids instills them with great confidence in combat–but they are not above flight if they feel they are outmatched. As noted above, Gnolls do not hold valor as a virtue.

Gnolls are relatively smart, but simple and lazy. They do what they need to do to fill their needs: eating, sleeping, and reproducing. Once they’ve got those things taken care of, they don’t care much for anything else.

NOTE: It occurs to me, having written this, that Paizo has released both a “Goblins of Golarion,” and an “Orcs of Golarion” supplement. It is possible that these concerns are partially addressed in those booklettes. I think the larger issue remains valid, though.

Proto-Alpha Brainstorming for NPC Interaction Rules

On the off chance that you don’t already read -C’s awesome OSR blog, Hack & Slash, you may be interested in checking out some of his recent posts on skill deconstruction. Post by post, -C is applying his impressive analytical ability to identifying the benefits and drawbacks for each of Pathfinder’s 26 skills in turn. Recently he deconstructed two skills which have been an increasing source of anxiety for me over the years: Bluff, and Diplomacy. These two skills annoy me. Tabletop RPGs are supposed to facilitate social interaction, not just between the people playing them, but between the players, and the non player characters. Skills like diplomacy and bluff replace these entertaining and valuable interactions with dice rolling.

No matter how good or bad the argument/lie a player attempts, the most they can achieve through role play (using Pathfinder’s core rules) is a modifier of some kind to their skill roll. Certainly, it can be entertaining when a character with high bluff skills steals something right in front of a guard, then says “You didn’t see me steal anything,” and rolls a 35 on their bluff check. Truthfully, I’ve had a lot of fun with those kinds of players in the past. But it’s a somewhat less entertaining when the players approach a local regent, present maps and evidence of an incoming attack on the regent’s town, but are ignored because they rolled a diplomacy of 8. Even if good role playing & evidence gathering earned those players an unprecedented +10 bonus to their roll, they would still fall short of the DC of 20 required to affect an attitude shift from unfriendly to indifferent.

And none of that even mentions how the current structure of the diplomacy check slows games down. If a player wants to try influencing the attitude of an NPC, the GM needs to pull out the core rulebook, and find the spot in the chapter on skills with the Starting Attitude / Improvement DC chart. I suppose the chart could be memorized, but it seems silly to ask a GM to memorize a chart of arbitrary numbers. Diplomacy also harms gameplay because it turns NPC interaction (which should be part of game play) into a binary proposition based on die rolls. Either you succeed, or you fail. Either way, that NPC can’t be influenced again for another 24 hours.

And on top of all of that, the skill check is so utterly and completely broken that playing it as written in the core rulebook allows a player to rule the world by level 13.

Of course, any of these issues could be softened with house rules, or simply avoided by throwing the entire diplomacy/bluff check system away. Let the players role play with the NPCs, and let the GM decide how NPCs react based on how well the characters influenced them. This is fine, it’s why we have rule zero. It’s what I’ve been doing myself for a number of years now. But that doesn’t make Pathfinder’s broken rules on this subject okay. Just because the individual gamers can fix the problem doesn’t mean the problem doesn’t exist. That’s called the rule zero fallacy, and lets get it out of the way right now. We shouldn’t be okay with our favorite games having bad mechanics, we should want those games to improve on those mechanics. Not just for our sake, but for the sake of new players who may not understand that they have the option of throwing rules away.

NPC interactions deserve a better mechanic. Modern video games have managed to turn conversations into a mechanically relevant and interesting feature, so it should be no problem for tabletop RPGs. Such a system must be simpler to use than Pathfinder’s current chart-reference method. Yet it must also provide a conversational experience with more depth than simply rolling to determine a binary result. It should also be impossible for the system to completely break the game.

Below, I’ve pieced together a simple mock-up of where I’ve started thinking. Bear in mind that this is not intended to be a complete and functional mechanic. It is, as the title of this post suggests, only the very beginnings of the idea. My hope is that we can build a dialogue from this starting point, and eventually produce a usable system. I’ve chosen to present the initial version of this ideas as one which builds off of Pathfinder’s basic structure. I believe that, eventually, a good system for NPC interactions will need to be divorced from any existing system. However, at this early stage, I think there is value in connecting the system to a frame of reference.

Simply stated, my rule is thus:

When attempting to convince, deceive, or intimidate through conversation, the speaker uses their CHA score (not modifier) to oppose their target’s WIS score. These scores are modified somewhat by abilities, and heavily by circumstance and role playing. If these scores are relatively close at the end of the speaker’s attempt, participants roll 3d6 and add the results to their scores to determine the outcome of the attempt. Otherwise, the higher score wins. At the GM’s discretion, characters who make a particularly convincing attempt should automatically succeed, without the need for any number comparison. Succeeding will either achieve the speaker’s goal, or allow the speaker to continue attempting to achieve said goal without penalty. Each failure forces the speaker to suffer penalties during future interactions. Particularly egregious failures may result in insurmountable penalties.

I understand that some of this is confusing, and some of it is downright vague. The above is meant to be the distilled essence of the rule. It is the only part of the rule which you will actually need to remember once you understand how the system works. Those points I left vague were left so because I really have no idea what the specific numbers should be. I’m hoping that someone with a better grasp of the mathematics of game systems can offer some insight on that. For now, just to facilitate the discussion, lets say that every +5 to your diplomacy/bluff/intimidate check (not counting Cha bonus) grants a +1 when you attempt any of those tactics in a conversation. For the purposes of the dice rolling, “Relatively close” will be defined as “within 5 points.”

Example:
Henar the gnomish rogue would like to convince a guard for the city of Yedge to allow her passage into the city, even though the gates have been closed for the night. Henar’s Charisma is 10, and the Guard has a Wisdom of 16. Diplomacy is a class skill for Henar, and she also has 4 ranks in the skill, as well as the Skill Focus: Diplomacy feat. Normally this would give her a total of +10 to Diplomacy rolls. Using this system, that number is divided by five. So Henar now has an effective Charisma of 12 to compare to the Guard’s Wisdom of 16. Henar’s player speaks to the guard:

“Please, good sir! It is cold and wet out here. I am but a gnome, what harm could I do to your city and its powerful watch!?”

Henar’s player doesn’t exactly make a good argument, but the GM decides that this guard will react favorably to flattery. The GM grants Henar a +2 for the role playing, bringing her effective Charisma to 14. Since this is only 2 points away from the guard’s Wisdom of 16, the GM calls for a roll. Both parties roll 3d6. Henar rolls an 12, bringing her total up to 26. The Guard, however, rolls an 11, bringing his total up to 27. The guard “wins” the encounter, and responds:

“Rules is rules, gnome! I won’t let you in for nothing.”

Henar has failed, but the failure is not extreme. The GM decides that she will suffer a -2 penalty during the rest of the conversation. Henar decides to try again, picking up on the “won’t let you in for nothing.” cue. Remember that at this point her effective Charisma is 10 + 2 for her bonuses – 2 for her previous failure. She is again at a disadvantage of 10 to 16.

“Surely an upstanding gentleman such as yourself is due more prestigious duties than guarding a wall! You ought to be spending your evenings in leisure with your fellows. Let me ensure you have the means to truly enjoy yourself next time you are at liberty…”

With this, Henar offers a bag of 25 gold coins – a very generous bribe! The GM decides that the guard is not the type to become offended when offered a bribe, and grants Henar a +4 for this offer. Henar’s flattery has also been laid on more thickly this time, and the GM decides to grant a +4 for that as well. All told, this gives Henar an effective charisma of 18 compared to the guard’s charisma of 16. This is close enough to call for a roll, but this time, Henar wins. The guard allows her through the gate, and takes her gold.

I want to reiterate that this isn’t a finished product. It’s merely the beginnings of an idea. I can already see possible avenues of abuse, and I worry that it may be overly clunky, but it’s a place to start. Maybe the end result of this process won’t look anything like this. Regardless, I’m eager to hear any feedback. I would encourage people to use the comments on this post (rather than IMing, emailing, or twittering me) because any criticism made in private to me isn’t one which is part of the larger discussion.

D&D 3.x Supplements for Pathfinder Players

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.

Succubi Deserve More

Warning: I do discuss sex a great deal in this post. I’ve tried to keep things clean, but this is an extended post about sex demons. Consider yourself forewarned.

I love Succubi. Not because they’re often portrayed as sexually aggressive women with fangs and wings. The overuse of that trope is precisely the problem, actually. My fascination for succubi is similar to my fascination with vampires; as monstrous foes, they are unique in their use of guile and charm. While vampires have been characterized in many different ways, particularly in recent years, my favorite kind of vampire has always been one which suffers from all the many weaknesses of his or her kind. Must avoid garlic, must avoid holy symbols, cannot cross running water under their own power, cannot enter a building unless invited, and of course, cannot go out during the day. Vampires are more defined by their weaknesses than by their strengths, and they compensate for these manyfold weaknesses with charm. They are suave, persuasive, and seductive. Before you know it, your attractive, pale lover is nibbling your neck. And not as foreplay.

In a fantasy world, Succubi are sex. They don’t have sex, they embody sex. Assuming you play a game with good lore, succubi are also demons. Demons are pure manifestations of chaos and evil. Ergo, succubi are everything which is chaotic and evil about sex, made manifest. They draw their greatest pleasure from adulterous spouses, breakers of chastity vows, and authority figures who abuse their power for fleshly pleasure. Any sexual immorality which exists in your game world is one which a succubus will seek to cause. And the greater the damage, the greater the succubus’ pleasure. Breaking up a marriage is lovely, but bringing down nations or causing a genocide? That’s what really gets a succubus off. Helen of Troy was perhaps the greatest succubus of all time.

Lamentably, succubi are never portrayed this way. If they happen to appear in films or literature, it is almost always as an extremely sexually aggressive woman. There’s nothing wrong with a succubus being a sexually aggressive woman, mind you, but that attitude is one tool among many, not their baseline attitude. Succubi are masters of seduction. They can switch their personalities to fit the preferences of those around them as only a master manipulator can. Of course, the portrayal of the succubus in games is arguably even worse. The index of monsters invariably includes a picture of a beautiful demon woman, naked or nearly so, resting seductively next to a statistics block which describe her ability to magically charm & dominate. D&D 3.5 and Pathfinder actually describe the succubus’ ability to bestow negative levels with a kiss.

I get it. There are not many people who want to sit around the game table feeling uncomfortable while the GM uses NPCs to play out sex fantasies. And I understand that D&D still suffers from a lot of stigmatization. Neither WotC nor Paizo want to be featured in a Fox News segment about the corruption of America’s youth. But most of the images I’ve included in this post? They come right out of D&D / Pathfinder books. I don’t think any parents are being fooled about what the succubus is. I couldn’t find a good scan of the succubus from the D&D 3.X Monster Manual. That one actually has visible areolae. Bright red ones. How’s that for cognitive dissonance? Visual representations of exposed breasts are fine, but the raciest we can get in the text is “kiss?

I would like to make clear that I am not arguing that including a succubus in a game requires a GM to allow wanton eroticism. But these are powerful and interesting creatures with a unique place in human mythology. I don’t like to see them reduced to a thinly veiled excuse to include a pair of tits in the adventure. Too many times have I seen a succubus used as a wandering monster, as if they were no more sophisticated than a skeleton or imp. And once encountered, GMs rarely attempt guile, preferring the crack of the succubus’ inexplicable dominatrix whip instead.

I like to explore the mythology behind fantasy tropes. Often it’s a great deal more interesting than the tropes themselves. I’d like to take this opportunity to share some of the succubus’ mythology, to help illustrate my point. Bear in mind that I am not a scholar of medieval Christianity, nor am I well versed in Jewish mythology. Most of my information on the subject comes from google & wikipedia. And even assuming that the information I read is accurate, I could easily have misunderstood something. In other words, I am not a credible source.

A great many cultures have tales of demons and spirits which resemble the succubus. The succubus we know today draws primarily from the legends of medieval Europe. The Catholic church was even more ridiculous about sexual morality back then than they are now. So if a fellow awoke in the morning to find that he had pitched a tent, or – ahem – had a nocturnal emission, it wasn’t an innocent occurrence. Sex was so taboo that the source of these disturbances was deduced to be demonic. And thus was the succubus invented; a demoness who appears in men’s dreams in the form of a woman. Her goal was to steal men’s seed for her own devious ends

A likely satirical tome called the Alphabet of Sirach provides an origin for the succubus. I’m not sure if this book was responding to existing folklore about succubi, or if said folklore only took hold after the book was written. According to the AoS, Eve was not the first wife of Adam. Before her, God created a woman from the earth and called her Lilith. And then, as the story goes:

Adam and Lilith began to fight. She said, ‘I will not lie below,’ and he said, ‘I will not lie beneath you, but only on top. For you are fit only to be in the bottom position, while I am to be in the superior one.’ Lilith responded, ‘We are equal to each other inasmuch as we were both created from the earth.’ But they would not listen to one another. When Lilith saw this, she pronounced the Ineffable Name and flew away into the air.

Not sure why Lilith can fly. Again, I’m no scholar, but my guess would be that “the Ineffable Name” would be the true name of god. Speaking it is blasphemous in the Jewish tradition, so perhaps simply by speaking she has already taken on demonic traits such as wings.

Regardless, Adam then calls to God, complaining that his woman has run away. God pursues her, but finds her unwilling to return, and so she is cursed so that each day, one hundred of her children will die. God then returns to Adam, and makes Eve out of his rib. Apparently, ribs make for much more demure, obedient women than earth does. Lilith later mated with an archangel, spawning the demon queens, and eventually, the entire race of succubi.

So, as established above, succubi harvest semen from sleeping men. But what do they do with it? I found a couple different explanations, but my favorite comes from an Inquisitor named Heinrich Kramer in 1486. To quote him:

Another terrible thing which God permits to happen to men is when their own children are taken away from women, and strange children are put in their place by devils. And these children, which are commonly called changelings, or in the German tongue Wechselkinder, are of three kinds. For some are always ailing and crying, and yet the milk of four women is not enough to satisfy them. Some are generated by the operation of Incubus devils, of whom, however, they are not the sons, but of that man from whom the devil has received the semen as a Succubus, or whose semen he has collected from some nocturnal pollution in sleep. For these children are sometimes, by Divine permission, substituted for the real children.

There is no better fantasy sourcebook than religion.

The emphasis above is mine. To put it into slightly more clear language, what the inquisitor is saying is that a succubus is able to transform between the female form, and the male (incubus) form. So first, the demon harvests a man’s seed as a succubus, then transforms itself into an incubus, and impregnates a woman with the semen stolen from the man. And let me just say that, as a philosophy major, it tickles the hell out of me to see respected scholars like Aquinas taking this stuff seriously.

Of course, we need not tie ourselves to mythology as though it is dogma. Study of the source material merely gives us some perspective to help ground our own ideas. Part of the fun of being a game master in a fantasy game is the opportunity to place our own fantastical ideas next to time tested ones like the succubus, vampire, or Medusa. We can even modify those creatures themselves if we so choose, though, my experience is that keeping a creature grounded in its core concept always produces the best results.

So, all of that having been said, here are some things I like to add to the succubus

  • Taking on pleasing forms is basic to a succubus’ art. They become tall, short, blonde, brunette, thin, round, whatever their victim desires most. So for a creature which relies on its shape shifting ability constantly, a permanent mark which cannot be shape-shifted could lead to interesting situations. Perhaps many succubi get tattooed in obscure locations to associate themselves with a specific demon lord or lady. And while most weapons would leave no scar on a succubus, a weapon of strong good alignment could leave a small mark behind even after healing. Not much of one, but something a perceptive character could spot.
  • Succubi have their own aesthetic. In their natural state, all succubi demonstrate some number of demonic traits. Some have cloven feet, some have tails, some have spines. Some even have scales or glowing red eyes. The only demonic traits which all succubi share are wings and horns. But there is a great deal of variance in the types of even those two features. Some wings are leathery, while others are feathered, and still others seem to be made of shadow, or silk. Horns most often sprout from the head, but they could sprout from the chin, or even the cheeks of a succubus, and they form in any number of shapes.
  • Succubi have the ability to enter into the dreams of any sleeping character at will. While in a character’s dreams, the Succubi plants enticing suggestions. When the character wakes, he or she will be less capable of resisting the succubus’ charm.
  • Succubi have no technical gender. Or, perhaps it would be more accurate to say they are all hermaphrodites, capable of switching between the male and the female form at will. So each succubus is also an incubus.
  • Succubi may breed with any species that reproduces sexually.
  • Succubi have absolute control over their own reproduction. They may choose the gender of their children, gestation period, and even how many children will be produced from a single coupling.
  • They may also control how much of their demonic blood infuses the child. At their will, they may produce a small flock of imps, a half demon, a creature which appears completely human, or anything in between. Their only limitation is that they can never birth a child with no demonic blood whatsoever. At the very least, the child will have a predilection for chaos and evil.
  • Succubi are immune to disease themselves, but may store and pass on diseases to others.
  • Succubi feed on the suffering which sexual immorality causes. They can gain experience from any acts which result from their manipulations. (Ex. Helen of Troy would get experience for every Trojan and Greek killed. Ka-ching.)

As a final word on this post, I would like to give a shout out to one of the few sourcebooks which I felt actually did succubi some justice. Two of the best supplements which ever came out for Dungeons and Dragons 3.5 were the Fiendish Codex I & II. FC I: Hordes of the Abyss, provided a lot of detail about demons, and the abyss they live in. Aside from including some very useful demonic archetypes (along with charts for each archetype, indicating how likely it was for a particular type of demon to fill that role), the book introduced Malcanthet, queen of the succubi. A mere four pages were all they were able to devote to her in a book which was packed tight with awesome abyssal lore, but those four pages (plus the dragon magazine article released about the same time) were fantastic. I would heartily recommend the book to anyone, regardless of what system you use.

Wizard Spell Research Variant

Sir William Fettes Douglas The Alchemist 19th cent.

Wizards are the scholars of Pathfinder. Other spellcasting classes, such as the sorcerer, cleric, or druid, draw their powers from their ancestry, their gods, or nature itself. The unique flavor of wizards is that they are the scientists of a magical world. Their power comes from hours of study, and dutifully logged research. At each level, wizards automatically learn two new spells which represent research performed between adventures. A wizard can also learn new spells by studying the spellbooks of other wizards. The only real limit on the number of spells a wizard can know is however many books the GM will let him get away with carrying.

This versatility is one of the great draws of the wizard class. Unfortunately, the nearly limitless ability to expand their spell repertoire also allow wizards to completely overshadow the other classes. This uncontested dominance has plagued the game ever since D&D 3rd edition’s release. Over time, balance has improved through lowering the effectiveness of some spells, and increasing the abilities of other classes, but wizards are still considerably overpowered in Pathfinder.

Editions ago, when wizards were still called magic users, this was not as much of an issue. I’m not exactly an expert on older versions of D&D, but my understanding is that not only did wizards level at a slower rate than other classes do, but their abilities were also significantly less comprehensive. In Pathfinder, the idea is that anything which can happen in the game world can potentially be achieved by players. If there are mighty magic users who can cast spells powerful enough to raise continents out of the sea, then players should be able to look forward to similar abilities at some point. Obviously this creates much more powerful casters, but I don’t think I would want to give either of these things up. I like that ever class levels at the same rate, and I like that nothing is ever completely out of reach of player characters. I would, however, like to see wizards brought more in line with other classes. It’s a problem which is often floating around the periphery of my awareness. I haven’t come up with a solid solution, but recently I struck upon an idea which I think is flavorful, interesting, and goes a small way towards helping with balance issues.

As I’ve posted about before, I’ve been reading a few first edition D&D modules. Alas I’ve been too busy to really make a dent in the small stack of them that I have, but one thing I’ve noticed is the big to-do which is made about NPC spellbooks. Any time a magic user appears in a module, the author makes note of where the magic user keeps his or her spellbook, and what spells are in it. Magic users often seem to go to great lengths to hide their books. It seems that in 1st edition, stealing finding and stealing a spellbook was considered a great prize. And why shouldn’t it be? In first edition, as in Pathfinder, getting your hands on someone else’ spell book means that–after a little study–all of that person’s spells can be added to your own collection.

I toyed with this idea for awhile, not really sure what I wanted to do with it. I could start making spellbooks a bigger part of my games, but all that would do is make any wizard players more overpowered than they already were. I jotted the idea down in one of my notebooks for future reference, and promptly forgot about it for a few weeks. That’s when I read a post by Paul over at Blog of Holding called 4e Spells as Treasure. I find it amusing that many of my best ideas come after reading Blog of Holding, since it most often focuses on 4th edition D&D, a game which I find personally quite distasteful. In this post, Paul discusses the possibility of including scrolls which have improved versions of spells in treasure hordes. Wizards could transcribe the spells into their books, and forever be able to cast a slightly better version of a common spell. This set me to thinking:

What if wizards only learned spells by finding them?

It wouldn’t be difficult. Simply drop the 2 spells wizards learn automatically with each new level. Since those spells are explained as research performed between adventures, all a GM need say is that spell research in the game world is significantly more time consuming and difficult than in the standard Pathfinder game. Players could still research spells on their own, but doing so would need to be handled with the GM, and would probably have significant costs associated with it. As Paul writes, “DMs and players can go crazy with rules for spending money on research, libraries, and labs.”

Using this house rule, characters would no longer be able to learn spells independently from the game world. Players never like to see their characters become weaker, but once they accepted this way of doing things, I think it would make spell acquisition a much more involving and entertaining process. Gaining two new spells instantaneously with each level is fine, but it’s an abstraction which reminds everyone that they’re playing a game. Instead, every time players encountered a wizard, they would be engaged in trying either to befriend her so they could learn from her, or defeat her so they could steal her secrets.

This house rule also provides the GM with useful tools for controlling their game world. Many spells make a GMs job significantly more difficult, such as the various permutations of polymorph, flight spells, teleportation spells, invisibility spells, and worst of all, divination spells. And while I think it would be inadvisable to simply block players from ever finding these spells, this rule does give the GM a throttle with which to control their inclusion in the game. Overland Flight, for example, might never appear in the game until an enemy wizard uses it in a level 14 adventure. If the players then earn the spell by defeating their foe and finding his spellbook, it’s still just a 5th level spell. But the GM is able to prevent it from effecting the game until they’re ready for it, 5 levels after it would normally be available to characters.

Another benefit of this house rule is that treasure hordes become much more interesting. My experience with D&D is that most GMs include two things in treasure piles: coins, and gear they want their players to use. I did this myself for many years, so I understand the desire to simplify player rewards. Artwork, weapons which won’t be used, and even gems seem like they’re simply obstructions to game play. All the player will want to do is find out how much gold he can get in exchange for these items, and sell them as soon as they can. But simple treasure hordes become boring very quickly. Players can only get excited about a pile of coins and a replacement for their weapon with an extra +1 on it so many times. Including the spellbooks of long dead magic users, or even just scrolls containing a new spell, will go a long way towards getting players more excited about what they find.

It’s just a thought at this point. I haven’t had an opportunity to implement this rule in a game yet. When I do I’ll be sure to take copious notes on player reactions and update the blog on how it went.

Stuff Which Never Works

I love RPGs. You probably figured that out by now, given that you’re reading the RPG blog which I update five times a week. I think they’re a fun, community-building form of entertainment, which offers nearly limitless possibilities for those who play. But for all that is good about RPGs, there are some things which simply do not work within the medium. At least I’ve never seen them work, but maybe I’m just missing something. Thus, in the interest of exploring these failings of the medium, I’ve gathered three elements of gameplay which have never been anything but a game-slowing nuisance for me. I’ll detail why it would be nice if they did work, why they don’t work, and if I can think of one, I’ll offer a possible solution.

I’d really like to encourage readers (no matter how old this post is when you read it!) to chime in on this one. What game elements have you encountered which never seem to work well? Do you have any solutions to the three outlined below which I didn’t think of? Is there a system which actually handles any of these well?

Ammunition is an easy one to start with. In the real world, any projectile weapon has a limited number of uses based on how many projectiles are available. Once you’ve fired your revolver six times, you either need to reload, or come up with a new plan. In a medieval fantasy game like Pathfinder, arrows and crossbow bolts take the place of bullets, and the threat of running out adds an exciting depth to the game. Not only does limiting a player’s ammunition force them to use it more intelligently, but it also forces players who favor ranged weapons to have a plan for how they’ll contribute to the battle once their quiver is empty. After that happens once or twice, players will start to understand the necessity of scavenging for unbroken arrows after a battle. And eventually, when the GM chooses to include a Quiver of Unending Arrows in a pile of treasure, it will become a player’s most precious possession.

But keeping track of ammunition is a pain in the ass. Amongst the player’s starting equipment, they purchase fifty or a hundred arrows. And then what? Every time they fire their bow they’re supposed to take the time to erase that number and replace it with one number lower? Players are focused on whether or not they hit what they were shooting at. If they did, then they’re concerned about damage, and if they didn’t, they’re concerned with muttering to themselves about how badly they’re rolling today. Keeping track of ammo is even more burdensome if the GM tries to handle it. GMs are the center of everyone’s attention during combat, and they need to ration their time carefully in order to keep things moving. Giving their attention to minor details like how many arrows a player has left would kill combat flow. Every group I’ve been in has just house ruled it so that once you purchase arrows once, you have a full quiver for life.

Truthfully, I haven’t thought of a good solution to this one yet. I did consider making ranged weapons usable only a certain number of times per combat / certain number of times per day, but that’s just lazy game design. Fortunately, Telecanter of Receding Rules came up with a solid alternative called simple ammunition tracking. Rather than reduce the total amount of ammo by one each time it is used, players using projectile weapons each get a stack of poker chips. After each encounter during which the projectile weapon was used, the player gives up one chip to the GM, regardless of how many or how few arrows they fired. Once they’re out of chips, they’re out of arrows. It’s a good house rule. It doesn’t suffer from the inane number tracking problems that the core game’s method does, and it grants most of the benefits of keeping track of / running out of arrows.

To be honest, though, it doesn’t seem like a good fit for my games. Solid as Telecanter’s simple ammo tracking rule is, it doesn’t allow for the possibility of running out of ammunition in the middle of combat, which is the most interesting time to run out! For the present, I’m still looking for a better system of ammunition tracking.

Encumbrance is a problem which goes hand in hand with ammunition. Including a good encumbrance system in your game places reasonable & interesting limitations on the player characters. It rewards strong characters for being strong, which helps take the edge off how overpowered casters can be. It also provides the GM with a multitude of adventure options which wouldn’t be available if characters could carry whatever they want. Removing treasure from a dungeon, and finding a place to store that treasure, become adventures in themselves. And like the Quiver of Unending Arrows, an encumbrance system turns items which have become commonplace and boring, such as exceptionally light armor, or a bag of holding, into treasures worth questing for.

Unfortunately, encumbrance suffers from the same problem of excessive calculation that ammunition systems have. When a player is looking through the equipment chapter of the core rulebook, and they see that each and every item has a weight calculated down to ounces, they can’t help but balk at the idea of keeping track of it all. Every time anything is added to a pack, or removed from it, its weight must be added or subtracted from the grand total amount of weight being carried by the character, and then checked against the character’s maximum load to determine whether or not that character is now encumbered. I’ve never met a single GM who bothers with such rules. I have met a few who use simplified versions of those rules, but even those simplified rules often seem overly complicated to me.

I discussed this issue with a friend at length last night. He was of the opinion that encumbrance rules should simply be discarded as useless to gameplay. Despite the benefits, he said, there’s just no way to make things simple enough to be fun. I tried to come up with an example of an ultra-simple encumbrance system to use as a counterargument, and inadvertently struck on an idea which I think I may start using in my games.

A character’s strength score is the maximum amount of significant items which can be carried without becoming encumbered. Significant items are identified by the GM at the time of acquisition, and may include: a 50ft coil of rope, a 10ft pole, a sword, a suit of armor, or five hundred coins of any denomination. Items might qualify as significant based either on weight or on size, but no item which is not significant counts against encumbrance in any quantity. A character may carry as many non-significant items as they like without them counting against encumbrance, even if the sum total of their parts (such as fifty potions) would be heavier and more unwieldy than any single significant item (such as a sword). In some special cases, the GM may choose to make a particularly heavy or unwieldy item count as two or more significant items, though it is recommended that this be used only in special cases. Common adventuring equipment such as armor should never count for more than one significant item.

Chase Scenes are a huge problem in RPGs. What’s great about them should be obvious: they’re exciting. They’re a unique kind of encounter which, if I could figure out how to run one, would make escaping just as much fun as standing your ground to fight. But what’s exciting when every character has a pre determined speed? If your speed is 30, and your pursuer’s speed is 35, then eventually you’re going to be overrun. Numerous books discuss methods to make chases more engaging for players, but when speed is a set number there’s only so much you can do.

I think the best way to overcome this problem is to encourage our players to think creatively while escaping (or giving chase). Halflings, with their lower speed, should try to use their size to their advantage by going places where larger characters can’t. Other characters can attempt to use obstacles, or creative shortcuts to overcome the static speed problem. And of course, players being able to do this is contingent on the GM’s ability to improvise a constantly changing environment for the players to dash through. Being intimately familiar with Pathfinder’s movement and running rules (Pathfinder Core Rulebook Pages 170-172) can’t hurt either. They provide useful mechanics for exhaustion, which determines when somebody in the chase is forced to give up.

There are a number of other things which I’ve never been happy with. Keeping time is nearly impossible, and the game makes it far too difficult to sneak up behind someone and knock them out. I’m sure there are others as well, but I think three is sufficient for this post. Particularly because I’m currently operating at a significant sleep debt, and very desperately need to get in bed early tonight!

As I mentioned above, I’d like to encourage comments on this post. On every post, actually, but on this one in particular. Let me know what elements of gameplay have never worked to your satisfaction. Or even better, let me know if you’ve got any better solutions than those I’ve come up with!