This project over the past couple of weeks to build a functional, playable game world based only from a set of relatively loose rules and a series of minor assumptions has proven, at least to me, how incredibly flexible a rules-light role playing system can be. While there is something to be said for a well-developed, well-supported established game setting (such as Pathfinder's Golarion), I find that a development of a personal game world from the ground up is infinitely more satisfying, if not more time consuming. One of its unexpected perks is giving the Game Master just a little bit more flexibility with what sort of things happen within the game. Any time there is an established setting which players are very familiar with, there is the risk of wanting to do something in the game for the purpose of advancing the narrative, but then being called out on it because it doesn't fit with the locale. A bit more care must be taken in an established setting, but the results can be, in my opinion, just as rewarding.
While there are rumors that the implicit setting for the next edition of Dungeons and Dragons is going to be the Forgotten Realms, I do hope that they stick with the 4th edition (and before) tradition of having the game more or less be setting-free. I liked how 4th edition had individual locales (such as Hammerfast, or Vor Rukoth), and a lot of the books had "flavor text" which referenced nebulous events in some unnamed, unelaborated shared world, but there were not any formal maps until after Essentials came out and it got its own published setting, the Nentir Vale. I believe that there is a lot of virtue to having a world where there is shared mythology and some degree of "history" to tie some of the races narratively together, but leaving the cartography off of it. It is remarkable what the human imagination is capable of concocting when it is given only a limited amount of data to work with.
It's not exactly a new idea to create a game world within which one might want to play oneself, but I hope that at least some of these ideas might be beneficial contributions to the act of world-creation overall. If I ever were to have the opportunity to run an OD&D style game, it would be set within this world, or something similar. I'm always trying to come up with new or different ways to interpret or perceive "base" classes and races, so hopefully these last two weeks will contribute meaningfully to that theme.
Overall, I'd love to hear feedback one way or the other, including constructive criticism on what I might improve upon, change, or straight up throw out. Please, leave a comment!
Showing posts with label homebrew. Show all posts
Showing posts with label homebrew. Show all posts
Friday, February 3, 2012
[Secaelia] Thoughts On More Dangerous Wizardry
I missed my post yesterday so there are going to be two today.
Magic-users, whether human or elf, follow the track for learning spells as indicated in the Swords and Wizardry (or Labyrinth Lord) manuals. Each spell they have prepared they can perform once a day, and then they will need to rest and prepare the spells again. This is the limit to what a magic-user can perform safely. However, any magic-user can attempt to cast any spell which they have already expended, successfully or not, and risk corruption. Each time they attempt this, they must first roll against an increasingly difficult threshold of success. The GM can set the exact mechanic, but I think it would be reasonable to make the caster roll under 50% on a percentile roll, and then each additional time reduce the percentage by another 10%. In other words, if Elric the Grey has already cast Magic Missile once, but is in a jam and it would be very helpful to be able to cast it again, he may do so, only first rolling under 50 on a d%. If Elric wants to cast Magic Missile again, this time he must roll under 40, and so on.
On a failed roll for a second spell attempt, the magic-user first takes the spell's level in HD damage. In other words, if a human magic-user fails on a level 2 spell re-attempt, he immediately takes 2d4 damage; if he fails on a level 8 spell, he takes 8d4 damage, etc. Depending on which version of the rules you are using, an elven magic-user might take [x]d4 damage as well, or [x]d6 if the elf's HD is a d6. This damage cannot be blocked or reduced in any way, and if this reduces the character to zero or fewer hit points, they fall unconscious immediately, but do not naturally deteriorate at -1 HP per round as with bleeding out. However, if they are physically struck or hit by another damaging attack and reduced to negative their level in hit points, they will die as usual. If the damage they take from failing the spell is enough to kill them, they will die.
In addition to this, they will take one permanent defect as a sign of their corruption by magic. This should ultimately be determined by the Game Master, but the extent of the disfigurement should reflect the strength of the spell. A magic-user botching a Magic Missile, for instance, might come out of the experience with permanently blackened fingertips, or a slight lingering scent of tar or boiled cabbage. A magic-user failing Confusion might suffer a permanent 2 or 3 point reduction in Charisma, might randomly forget one of their prepared spells for the day, or inadvertently attack an ally. A failure with Hold Portal might cause doors to randomly lock or unlock, likely at inopportune times. Regardless, the Game Master should keep note of these and should not be afraid to use them when the players least expect it. Certainly some spell failures will have more severe effects than others, but that is all part of the gamble when re-rolling a spell.
Finally, if a spell is re-rolled after being expended and the result is a failure, that spell may not be re-rolled again until it is prepared again. In other words, a magic-user who continues succeeding against cumulatively decreasing odds may continue using the spell, but a magic-user who fails a re-roll loses the spell AND suffers a serious deleterious effect. A failure after multiple successes might be more "serious" in its sign of corruption to represent how hard the magic-user had been pushing it, at the Game Master's discretion. It is also up to the Game Master to determine whether a magic-user knocked unconscious by their own spell backfire should be more difficult to rouse than a character stunned by other damage.
The damage taken upon a failed re-attempt is representative of the overexertion caused by the magic-user performing something "unnatural." The spellbook is a profoundly magical and otherworldly sort of item, and in preparing a spell, one provides an avenue for the "blowback" of the spell to dissipate. Without the spell's place in the spellbook, the recoil is more and more difficult to control. The corruption caused by a failed spell attempt is representative of all of that potential, formless magic energy being drawn out of the Aethers, but then the magic-user losing control or focus after having become excessively exhausted, and the energies misfiring backwards on the caster, with strange and unpredictable effects.
However, "corruption" does not have to be negative. If one prefers, one can make a percentile roll any time a spell re-roll is failed, with a 3% or 5% (or something) chance that something beneficial happens instead. Maybe a magic-user is attempting Magic Missile, only Fireball comes out instead. Magic does not obey the same set of laws as everything else in the world, so the Game Master is encouraged to allow unusual things to occur.
This has not been at all play-tested, so I have no idea of the plausibility of these mechanics in a real game setting. I'd hope that the danger of major corruption would be enough to offset a magic-user from deviating too far from the ordinary 1-spell-a-day mechanic, but it of course doesn't account for the player who is a glutton for punishment and has no problem at all with putting all the other players in a tight spot. This also assumes the "set and forget" style of casting that does not first require a success or to-hit roll; if using this style of mechanic, one can probably substitute a cumulative -2 modifier on that to-hit roll each time the spell is re-attempted.
Magic-users, whether human or elf, follow the track for learning spells as indicated in the Swords and Wizardry (or Labyrinth Lord) manuals. Each spell they have prepared they can perform once a day, and then they will need to rest and prepare the spells again. This is the limit to what a magic-user can perform safely. However, any magic-user can attempt to cast any spell which they have already expended, successfully or not, and risk corruption. Each time they attempt this, they must first roll against an increasingly difficult threshold of success. The GM can set the exact mechanic, but I think it would be reasonable to make the caster roll under 50% on a percentile roll, and then each additional time reduce the percentage by another 10%. In other words, if Elric the Grey has already cast Magic Missile once, but is in a jam and it would be very helpful to be able to cast it again, he may do so, only first rolling under 50 on a d%. If Elric wants to cast Magic Missile again, this time he must roll under 40, and so on.
On a failed roll for a second spell attempt, the magic-user first takes the spell's level in HD damage. In other words, if a human magic-user fails on a level 2 spell re-attempt, he immediately takes 2d4 damage; if he fails on a level 8 spell, he takes 8d4 damage, etc. Depending on which version of the rules you are using, an elven magic-user might take [x]d4 damage as well, or [x]d6 if the elf's HD is a d6. This damage cannot be blocked or reduced in any way, and if this reduces the character to zero or fewer hit points, they fall unconscious immediately, but do not naturally deteriorate at -1 HP per round as with bleeding out. However, if they are physically struck or hit by another damaging attack and reduced to negative their level in hit points, they will die as usual. If the damage they take from failing the spell is enough to kill them, they will die.
In addition to this, they will take one permanent defect as a sign of their corruption by magic. This should ultimately be determined by the Game Master, but the extent of the disfigurement should reflect the strength of the spell. A magic-user botching a Magic Missile, for instance, might come out of the experience with permanently blackened fingertips, or a slight lingering scent of tar or boiled cabbage. A magic-user failing Confusion might suffer a permanent 2 or 3 point reduction in Charisma, might randomly forget one of their prepared spells for the day, or inadvertently attack an ally. A failure with Hold Portal might cause doors to randomly lock or unlock, likely at inopportune times. Regardless, the Game Master should keep note of these and should not be afraid to use them when the players least expect it. Certainly some spell failures will have more severe effects than others, but that is all part of the gamble when re-rolling a spell.
Finally, if a spell is re-rolled after being expended and the result is a failure, that spell may not be re-rolled again until it is prepared again. In other words, a magic-user who continues succeeding against cumulatively decreasing odds may continue using the spell, but a magic-user who fails a re-roll loses the spell AND suffers a serious deleterious effect. A failure after multiple successes might be more "serious" in its sign of corruption to represent how hard the magic-user had been pushing it, at the Game Master's discretion. It is also up to the Game Master to determine whether a magic-user knocked unconscious by their own spell backfire should be more difficult to rouse than a character stunned by other damage.
The damage taken upon a failed re-attempt is representative of the overexertion caused by the magic-user performing something "unnatural." The spellbook is a profoundly magical and otherworldly sort of item, and in preparing a spell, one provides an avenue for the "blowback" of the spell to dissipate. Without the spell's place in the spellbook, the recoil is more and more difficult to control. The corruption caused by a failed spell attempt is representative of all of that potential, formless magic energy being drawn out of the Aethers, but then the magic-user losing control or focus after having become excessively exhausted, and the energies misfiring backwards on the caster, with strange and unpredictable effects.
However, "corruption" does not have to be negative. If one prefers, one can make a percentile roll any time a spell re-roll is failed, with a 3% or 5% (or something) chance that something beneficial happens instead. Maybe a magic-user is attempting Magic Missile, only Fireball comes out instead. Magic does not obey the same set of laws as everything else in the world, so the Game Master is encouraged to allow unusual things to occur.
This has not been at all play-tested, so I have no idea of the plausibility of these mechanics in a real game setting. I'd hope that the danger of major corruption would be enough to offset a magic-user from deviating too far from the ordinary 1-spell-a-day mechanic, but it of course doesn't account for the player who is a glutton for punishment and has no problem at all with putting all the other players in a tight spot. This also assumes the "set and forget" style of casting that does not first require a success or to-hit roll; if using this style of mechanic, one can probably substitute a cumulative -2 modifier on that to-hit roll each time the spell is re-attempted.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
[Secaelia] Player Classes and Options
As mentioned previously, this assumes the third printing of the Swords and Wizardry rules, which I believe are still available in the form of the "white box" which you can download here. In the third printing, which was dated 2009, the only classes were Cleric, Fighter, and Magic-User, and the demi-human races functioned much differently and had fewer options. With the fourth printing, elves also may become thieves, and rather than the class being something inherent about how the race functions, the fourth edition assumes that each of the demi-human races have a set of classes that are available to them and thus they "multi-class" when they are using different abilities available to them. It also removes level limits on demi-humans in favor of multiclassing limits.
The playable classes of Secaelia are Cleric, Fighter, Magic-User, Thief, Dwarf, Elf, and Halfling. For an example on how to incorporate the Thief class into Swords and Wizardry rules, see the excellent example drawn up over at Akratic Wizardry or the "White Box" S&W rules (Refer to this page here for the Thief rules, plus much more). All subsequent material here will assume a "White Box" Thief, but the Akratic Thief is compatible as well, and indeed influenced the naming of the Thieves' Guild in this setting. Halflings can dual-class (just like Elves can alternate between Magic-User and Fighter) as Thieves; a character may also be a Gnome, in which case one still uses the Halfling template, however one may make stylistic changes for flavor. Here I will assume that, despite Halflings and Gnomes being different races, they are functionally very similar. Perhaps Gnomes may have a racial bonus on thievery over the innate abilities of Halflings, this is up to the GM.
Players should be made aware that playing as a Magic-User, Dwarf, Elf, or Halfling, or, to a lesser extent, a Thief, will present unique roleplaying opportunities due to the nature of the world of Secaelia. However, Clerics will be accepted nearly everywhere, and Fighting-Men if they seem reputable, and not like mercenaries. A party led by a Cleric, who engage in virtuous deeds, may have their reputation precede them, and open up unique and beneficial opportunities for them in more densely inhabited areas of the world. Dwarves and Elves may encounter discrimination based upon their race, while Halflings and Gnomes might originally only curry temporary disbelief. By and large, however, all Demi-Human classes are accepted within most Human society.
On the same token, Magic-Users are nearly universally held to be suspicious, and often being suspected of being a Wizard is a worse crime than being suspected of being a Thief. Nevertheless, using one's magical powers to help an individual or a village out of a bad situation might earn more renown than otherwise as the townspeople are impressed by a Wizard on the side of justice or righteousness (which many of them might have previously considered an impossibility). However, they will not overcome their prejudices rapidly, and a Wizard might have to work extra hard to distinguish him or herself as one of the "good guys."
Most Thieves belong to a secret society of thieves called the Sons of Akrasia. Membership includes knowledge of a secret language known as Cant, and an understanding of the secret symbolic code of Glyphics. Additionally, other members of the Sons of Akrasia will not rob them, nor their associates, nor those who have been designated by them to be off-limits (through verbal communication with Cant, or visual identification with Glyphics). Any Thief who is a member of the Sons of Akrasia can indicate any variety of things with Glyphics, and there are a wide number of symbols in the shared iconography; things like "keeps jewelry unprotected," "nosy neighbors," "loud pet," "leaves for extended periods of time," "corrupt constabulary," "judge," "experienced fighter," "strict penalties for thieving," etc. They are all symbols to communicate to other thieves what areas in what towns are good, or bad, for their trade. The symbols periodically change, so while it is possible for others to determine what the symbols mean, it is more difficult to keep up on the changes. The same goes for Cant, which is highly complex and constantly changing. Information is distributed through the thieves' network, and few are left in the dark for too long.
The last thing to note about thieves is that members of the Sons of Akrasia apppreciate the artistry of thievery, and do not consider themselves thugs. They attempt to avoid actual violence and harm, and conduct themselves according to their own special code of ethics. Most people who participate in robberies are not members of the Sons of Akrasia, and instead are just thugs or criminals. The Sons of Akrasia are, technically, criminals by their nature, but consider themselves to be a cut above the rest both in style and ability.
Halflings and Gnomes are adept at thievery, and are eligible for membership in the Sons of Akrasia, but nevertheless the organization still is overwhelmingly human. Dwarves are opposed to organized, sanctioned thieving by their nature, but nevertheless still do occasionally become desperate enough to participate in criminal activity. However, they are not eligible to become members of the Sons of Akrasia, and do not become Thieves. Elves may, with the Game Master's assent, take up thievery; in this case, players must refer to the fourth printing rules on multiclassing as opposed to the White Box rules. Thievery is something that comes naturally to elves, on account of their natural dexterity; however, other elves might disapprove of their choices, as thieving is not, to elves, an honorable profession.
A GM may optionally award the party points for notoriety and renown, in lieu of more conventional alignment, in order to keep track of how outsiders may perceive of them. In this case the points should not be intertwined; a party should be able to earn points of renown independent from notoriety, to represent a chaotic temperament over and above a lawful one, for instance. In other words, rather than characters choosing to be Lawful, Neutral, or Chaotic, their deeds may be judged as being Lawful, Neutral, or Chaotic, or Good, Neutral, or Evil. Regardless of the axis by which their deeds are judged, the GM can track whichever criteria they deem relevant and use these "notoriety" and "renown" points to color their social encounters as they establish themselves more as adventurers and heroes (or villains). Notoriety, for instance, might make it more difficult for them to hire Hirelings, while renown might make it easier. Renown might stimulate the local blacksmith to offer the group a special discount on his wares, while notoriety might make him shut up his shop when they are in the area. It is up to the GM as to whether characters will be able to "work off" points of notoriety, and also whether players will be aware of the actual count of notoriety or renown points at all.
The membership of a Thief in the party should not immediately cause an increase in notoriety, either, unless the party collectively agrees before the game begins that the Thief character is particularly audacious or noteworthy. However, a level one individual most likely will not have had ample opportunity to distinguish oneself in this way, so to already be notorious would be an exceptional quality. The same goes for parties which include a Magic-User character. That character's presence alone should not contribute to notoriety, unless they act in a way that is blatant, dismissive, and flaunting; in other words, unless they act in a way that is expected of wizards. Conversely, if a party contains any demi-human, they may get an "automatic" point of notoriety or renown, depending on which area of the world they are in, by the simple fact that they are travelling with that type of character.
The playable classes of Secaelia are Cleric, Fighter, Magic-User, Thief, Dwarf, Elf, and Halfling. For an example on how to incorporate the Thief class into Swords and Wizardry rules, see the excellent example drawn up over at Akratic Wizardry or the "White Box" S&W rules (Refer to this page here for the Thief rules, plus much more). All subsequent material here will assume a "White Box" Thief, but the Akratic Thief is compatible as well, and indeed influenced the naming of the Thieves' Guild in this setting. Halflings can dual-class (just like Elves can alternate between Magic-User and Fighter) as Thieves; a character may also be a Gnome, in which case one still uses the Halfling template, however one may make stylistic changes for flavor. Here I will assume that, despite Halflings and Gnomes being different races, they are functionally very similar. Perhaps Gnomes may have a racial bonus on thievery over the innate abilities of Halflings, this is up to the GM.
Players should be made aware that playing as a Magic-User, Dwarf, Elf, or Halfling, or, to a lesser extent, a Thief, will present unique roleplaying opportunities due to the nature of the world of Secaelia. However, Clerics will be accepted nearly everywhere, and Fighting-Men if they seem reputable, and not like mercenaries. A party led by a Cleric, who engage in virtuous deeds, may have their reputation precede them, and open up unique and beneficial opportunities for them in more densely inhabited areas of the world. Dwarves and Elves may encounter discrimination based upon their race, while Halflings and Gnomes might originally only curry temporary disbelief. By and large, however, all Demi-Human classes are accepted within most Human society.
On the same token, Magic-Users are nearly universally held to be suspicious, and often being suspected of being a Wizard is a worse crime than being suspected of being a Thief. Nevertheless, using one's magical powers to help an individual or a village out of a bad situation might earn more renown than otherwise as the townspeople are impressed by a Wizard on the side of justice or righteousness (which many of them might have previously considered an impossibility). However, they will not overcome their prejudices rapidly, and a Wizard might have to work extra hard to distinguish him or herself as one of the "good guys."
Most Thieves belong to a secret society of thieves called the Sons of Akrasia. Membership includes knowledge of a secret language known as Cant, and an understanding of the secret symbolic code of Glyphics. Additionally, other members of the Sons of Akrasia will not rob them, nor their associates, nor those who have been designated by them to be off-limits (through verbal communication with Cant, or visual identification with Glyphics). Any Thief who is a member of the Sons of Akrasia can indicate any variety of things with Glyphics, and there are a wide number of symbols in the shared iconography; things like "keeps jewelry unprotected," "nosy neighbors," "loud pet," "leaves for extended periods of time," "corrupt constabulary," "judge," "experienced fighter," "strict penalties for thieving," etc. They are all symbols to communicate to other thieves what areas in what towns are good, or bad, for their trade. The symbols periodically change, so while it is possible for others to determine what the symbols mean, it is more difficult to keep up on the changes. The same goes for Cant, which is highly complex and constantly changing. Information is distributed through the thieves' network, and few are left in the dark for too long.
The last thing to note about thieves is that members of the Sons of Akrasia apppreciate the artistry of thievery, and do not consider themselves thugs. They attempt to avoid actual violence and harm, and conduct themselves according to their own special code of ethics. Most people who participate in robberies are not members of the Sons of Akrasia, and instead are just thugs or criminals. The Sons of Akrasia are, technically, criminals by their nature, but consider themselves to be a cut above the rest both in style and ability.
Halflings and Gnomes are adept at thievery, and are eligible for membership in the Sons of Akrasia, but nevertheless the organization still is overwhelmingly human. Dwarves are opposed to organized, sanctioned thieving by their nature, but nevertheless still do occasionally become desperate enough to participate in criminal activity. However, they are not eligible to become members of the Sons of Akrasia, and do not become Thieves. Elves may, with the Game Master's assent, take up thievery; in this case, players must refer to the fourth printing rules on multiclassing as opposed to the White Box rules. Thievery is something that comes naturally to elves, on account of their natural dexterity; however, other elves might disapprove of their choices, as thieving is not, to elves, an honorable profession.
A GM may optionally award the party points for notoriety and renown, in lieu of more conventional alignment, in order to keep track of how outsiders may perceive of them. In this case the points should not be intertwined; a party should be able to earn points of renown independent from notoriety, to represent a chaotic temperament over and above a lawful one, for instance. In other words, rather than characters choosing to be Lawful, Neutral, or Chaotic, their deeds may be judged as being Lawful, Neutral, or Chaotic, or Good, Neutral, or Evil. Regardless of the axis by which their deeds are judged, the GM can track whichever criteria they deem relevant and use these "notoriety" and "renown" points to color their social encounters as they establish themselves more as adventurers and heroes (or villains). Notoriety, for instance, might make it more difficult for them to hire Hirelings, while renown might make it easier. Renown might stimulate the local blacksmith to offer the group a special discount on his wares, while notoriety might make him shut up his shop when they are in the area. It is up to the GM as to whether characters will be able to "work off" points of notoriety, and also whether players will be aware of the actual count of notoriety or renown points at all.
The membership of a Thief in the party should not immediately cause an increase in notoriety, either, unless the party collectively agrees before the game begins that the Thief character is particularly audacious or noteworthy. However, a level one individual most likely will not have had ample opportunity to distinguish oneself in this way, so to already be notorious would be an exceptional quality. The same goes for parties which include a Magic-User character. That character's presence alone should not contribute to notoriety, unless they act in a way that is blatant, dismissive, and flaunting; in other words, unless they act in a way that is expected of wizards. Conversely, if a party contains any demi-human, they may get an "automatic" point of notoriety or renown, depending on which area of the world they are in, by the simple fact that they are travelling with that type of character.
Monday, January 30, 2012
[Secaelia] Introduction to Player Options
Last week was dedicated to developing some key aspects of the world of Secaelia, in order to establish the reasoning behind some of the fundamental assumptions about how the game world works. I began with some basic ideas, such as "wizards are dangerous," "the world is full of monsters," "magic has ramifications," "not everything in the world is natural," and "there are still some safe places." Once I had just a handful of basic statements, I just freewrote to see if I could just see where the logical extensions to those statements ended up, and I think overall the world ended up much in a place that seemed interesting and cohesive, but, more importantly, preserved a lot of the basic assumptions implicit in OD&D/Swords and Wizardry. Chief among these is that humans are "more important" than demi-humans.
As far as the human emperors are concerned, the demi-humans have been cordoned off into reservations that the emperors "allow" to exist. But from the demi-humans' perspective, things are very different. They are not interested in the affairs of the hot-headed, destructively ambitious, and short-lived humans (at least at this point in history), so they choose to just mostly keep to themselves, work (as it pleases them), and mainly just see how these humans end up. It's reminiscent of the Tolkienesque world that informs so much of D&D's past, but, I hope, is unique in some respects. I didn't want to "ruin" demi-human characters as much as make them more interesting and difficult to play. The level caps on demi-humans I guess reflect their unwillingness to excessively meddle in the affairs of the humans; once they hit their cap, that's about time to retire back to their mountains, forests, or glens and let the humans continue to do their own thing. The time of the elves and the dwarves has passed.
The whole basis of this world hinged pretty heavily on this article here, which was what gave me the idea to make wizards become corrupt by their powers, and then use more magical powers to preserve themselves. It's not a new idea, but I found this iteration, however brief, to be particularly evocative. It's a bit more sinister than the Dungeon Crawl Classics version of magical corruption in that it's reversible, but only via the suffering of another, probably innocent, person. It also, to me, makes a good prefab excuse for the reasoning behind Vancian magic. There are certain limits for magical power, and going beyond those limits has disastrous effects. At some point later this week I'll probably have an article on magical corruption as pertains to player characters.
The project for this week is to discuss actual mechanical aspects to this particular world as it pertains to player characters, and so these sort of issues will necessarily have to come up if I want to take my own assertions about how the world works seriously. Besides the fact that the exercise will probably be fun, of course. Another thing to mention is that I am writing most of this with the Swords and Wizardry, Third Printing (Internet Edition) in mind. Matthew Finch, the author, has recently released a Fourth Printing that makes quite a few changes in how characters work, especially in demi-human characters, and also introduces the Thief as a core class, which was absent in the previous version. One example of the demi-human differences is that in the Third Printing, elves level according to 1d6+1 for Fighter levels and 1d6-1 for Magic-User levels. In the Fourth Printing, elves level according to the average between 1d8 and 1d4. For the time being, I am going to continue to assume the "Third Printing" rules, since I am more familiar with that ruleset. At some point I may release an "errata" sheet to accommodate for the difference between the older and newer editions of the game, since I'm not sure whether it is still possible to find the Third Printing now. However, everything should still be compatible with Labyrinth Lord.
As far as the human emperors are concerned, the demi-humans have been cordoned off into reservations that the emperors "allow" to exist. But from the demi-humans' perspective, things are very different. They are not interested in the affairs of the hot-headed, destructively ambitious, and short-lived humans (at least at this point in history), so they choose to just mostly keep to themselves, work (as it pleases them), and mainly just see how these humans end up. It's reminiscent of the Tolkienesque world that informs so much of D&D's past, but, I hope, is unique in some respects. I didn't want to "ruin" demi-human characters as much as make them more interesting and difficult to play. The level caps on demi-humans I guess reflect their unwillingness to excessively meddle in the affairs of the humans; once they hit their cap, that's about time to retire back to their mountains, forests, or glens and let the humans continue to do their own thing. The time of the elves and the dwarves has passed.
The whole basis of this world hinged pretty heavily on this article here, which was what gave me the idea to make wizards become corrupt by their powers, and then use more magical powers to preserve themselves. It's not a new idea, but I found this iteration, however brief, to be particularly evocative. It's a bit more sinister than the Dungeon Crawl Classics version of magical corruption in that it's reversible, but only via the suffering of another, probably innocent, person. It also, to me, makes a good prefab excuse for the reasoning behind Vancian magic. There are certain limits for magical power, and going beyond those limits has disastrous effects. At some point later this week I'll probably have an article on magical corruption as pertains to player characters.
The project for this week is to discuss actual mechanical aspects to this particular world as it pertains to player characters, and so these sort of issues will necessarily have to come up if I want to take my own assertions about how the world works seriously. Besides the fact that the exercise will probably be fun, of course. Another thing to mention is that I am writing most of this with the Swords and Wizardry, Third Printing (Internet Edition) in mind. Matthew Finch, the author, has recently released a Fourth Printing that makes quite a few changes in how characters work, especially in demi-human characters, and also introduces the Thief as a core class, which was absent in the previous version. One example of the demi-human differences is that in the Third Printing, elves level according to 1d6+1 for Fighter levels and 1d6-1 for Magic-User levels. In the Fourth Printing, elves level according to the average between 1d8 and 1d4. For the time being, I am going to continue to assume the "Third Printing" rules, since I am more familiar with that ruleset. At some point I may release an "errata" sheet to accommodate for the difference between the older and newer editions of the game, since I'm not sure whether it is still possible to find the Third Printing now. However, everything should still be compatible with Labyrinth Lord.
Friday, January 27, 2012
[Secaelia] Threats to Stability and Peace
Some scholars have speculated that the the extent of warfare over previous generations has built up a "negative" energy surplus, which is what is responsible for not only the commonness of undead in certain parts of the world, but also for the ubiquity and aggressiveness of other kinds of monsters in formerly inhabited areas. Others have argued that these changes are simply a result of the waning influence of humans in many remote areas, who in the past were an effective enough deterrent to these monsters from wandering too far afield from their own dominions, but now are too weak to have the same sort of effect paired with the unchecked activities of necromancers and other evil magic-users. Regardless, it is true that kobolds, goblins, orcs, and other humanoid threats, which were once nearly exclusively subterranean in their habits, have begun spending a considerable amount of time above ground, harrying caravans and impeding the rebuilding effort of many abandoned cities, trading their weakness and sensitivity to light for sheer numbers in their raids.
Encounters with insects, rats, and other scavengers, grown to enormous size, are increasingly more frequent, leading many to believe that they, too, are the result of crazed experiments by wizards. They have infested many otherwise habitable buildings, so as people move back in to the abandoned cities there is often a dangerous and time-consuming fight with the beasts in order to render the places fit for human occupation once again. Many prospective homesteaders will pool together their money to hire a group of adventurers (or mercenaries) to root them out.
Some necromancers and wizards have rendered regions all but uninhabitable, but the total number in either nation that can cause significant, potentially world-altering difficulties probably number under ten. The worst problem are the less powerful, but ambitious wizards who might be a little more overzealous and audacious in their pursuits for power. These corrupt wizards carry out strange magical experiments on usually unwilling individuals, creating monstrous abominations out of formerly human subjects, either living or dead, and occasionally both. There have been unsubstantiated reports from some remote areas of terrible beast-men having been seen hobbling around, obviously undertaking some ineffable errand for their wizard-masters. Despite the fact that many of the world's problems are probably directly attributable to wizardry, evil wizards themselves are practically never encountered. They choose to hide behind their works, holed up within their towers and freeholds, protected by their own magical wards as well as, frequently, the bureaucracy and good graces of the empires, which themselves turn a blind eye to all but the most gratuitous violations of human decency.
One of the stereotypes of evil wizards is that they traffic with beings far beyond the ken of ordinary mortals, and draw even more power from these dark dealings. Sometimes, this is even slightly true. Many wizards will have devils or demons bound to them as advisers, protectors, or even servants; their estates may even be protected by hell hounds, worgs, or blink dogs. It is beyond the capability of even the most powerful wizard to control a baalrochs, but some nevertheless fool themselves into thinking they can maintain a "mutually beneficial association." Even the lowliest of devils will not willingly serve a human master, and will readily turn on them when presented with free will, a change in conditions that is no longer beneficial to their interests, or simply a better offer from another interested party. Indeed, many devils, once summoned into the world, will simply bide their time until they can overwhelm their "master," and then kill them, escape, and live freely in the world. Some even are able to maintain a disguise or glamour and put themselves into positions of power and influence.
Surprisingly, dragons, even great dragons, are a far rarer sight than ever before. While in the distant past there are countless stories of the devastation dragons could wreak upon towns and cities, nobody can now remember an instance in recent history where a dragon was even seen, let alone attacked any place. Some speculate that the dragons have entered into pacts with the leaders of the empires, and are being plied with victims and treasure in exchange for stability and protection, while others even go so far as to believe that the emperors have subjected even the dragons to their rule. It is up to the game master to describe what has actually become of the dragons; perhaps they are as more common as ever but dragon attacks are carefully concealed by government propaganda, or maybe they have entered into tenuous agreements with the corrupt and bloated governments and, for the time being at least, are sated by the frequent offerings of prisoners and gold. Regardless, dragon encounters should be exceedingly rare, and perhaps scaled up in difficulty even from where they are already to reinforce that they are incredibly powerful creatures, even in youth.
Finally, all manner of foul things, from slimes to jellies to toxic mold await adventurers in long-forgotten ruins or within underground caverns. These things very rarely are seen above ground, since the sun causes them to burn and evaporate very quickly, but as long as they are not exposed to that, they can be surprisingly hardy. They are seldom seen in association with other monsters, such as orcs or goblins, as they tend to want to clear the slimes out for their own safety when they take up residence in a new place. However, due to the special nature of undead (especially skeletons), slimes are much more commonly found in proximity to them, since they do not view each other as either a threat or as food.
Encounters with insects, rats, and other scavengers, grown to enormous size, are increasingly more frequent, leading many to believe that they, too, are the result of crazed experiments by wizards. They have infested many otherwise habitable buildings, so as people move back in to the abandoned cities there is often a dangerous and time-consuming fight with the beasts in order to render the places fit for human occupation once again. Many prospective homesteaders will pool together their money to hire a group of adventurers (or mercenaries) to root them out.
Some necromancers and wizards have rendered regions all but uninhabitable, but the total number in either nation that can cause significant, potentially world-altering difficulties probably number under ten. The worst problem are the less powerful, but ambitious wizards who might be a little more overzealous and audacious in their pursuits for power. These corrupt wizards carry out strange magical experiments on usually unwilling individuals, creating monstrous abominations out of formerly human subjects, either living or dead, and occasionally both. There have been unsubstantiated reports from some remote areas of terrible beast-men having been seen hobbling around, obviously undertaking some ineffable errand for their wizard-masters. Despite the fact that many of the world's problems are probably directly attributable to wizardry, evil wizards themselves are practically never encountered. They choose to hide behind their works, holed up within their towers and freeholds, protected by their own magical wards as well as, frequently, the bureaucracy and good graces of the empires, which themselves turn a blind eye to all but the most gratuitous violations of human decency.
One of the stereotypes of evil wizards is that they traffic with beings far beyond the ken of ordinary mortals, and draw even more power from these dark dealings. Sometimes, this is even slightly true. Many wizards will have devils or demons bound to them as advisers, protectors, or even servants; their estates may even be protected by hell hounds, worgs, or blink dogs. It is beyond the capability of even the most powerful wizard to control a baalrochs, but some nevertheless fool themselves into thinking they can maintain a "mutually beneficial association." Even the lowliest of devils will not willingly serve a human master, and will readily turn on them when presented with free will, a change in conditions that is no longer beneficial to their interests, or simply a better offer from another interested party. Indeed, many devils, once summoned into the world, will simply bide their time until they can overwhelm their "master," and then kill them, escape, and live freely in the world. Some even are able to maintain a disguise or glamour and put themselves into positions of power and influence.
Surprisingly, dragons, even great dragons, are a far rarer sight than ever before. While in the distant past there are countless stories of the devastation dragons could wreak upon towns and cities, nobody can now remember an instance in recent history where a dragon was even seen, let alone attacked any place. Some speculate that the dragons have entered into pacts with the leaders of the empires, and are being plied with victims and treasure in exchange for stability and protection, while others even go so far as to believe that the emperors have subjected even the dragons to their rule. It is up to the game master to describe what has actually become of the dragons; perhaps they are as more common as ever but dragon attacks are carefully concealed by government propaganda, or maybe they have entered into tenuous agreements with the corrupt and bloated governments and, for the time being at least, are sated by the frequent offerings of prisoners and gold. Regardless, dragon encounters should be exceedingly rare, and perhaps scaled up in difficulty even from where they are already to reinforce that they are incredibly powerful creatures, even in youth.
Finally, all manner of foul things, from slimes to jellies to toxic mold await adventurers in long-forgotten ruins or within underground caverns. These things very rarely are seen above ground, since the sun causes them to burn and evaporate very quickly, but as long as they are not exposed to that, they can be surprisingly hardy. They are seldom seen in association with other monsters, such as orcs or goblins, as they tend to want to clear the slimes out for their own safety when they take up residence in a new place. However, due to the special nature of undead (especially skeletons), slimes are much more commonly found in proximity to them, since they do not view each other as either a threat or as food.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
[Secaelia] Wizards
Perhaps the biggest fear which the average person has on a day to day basis is of wizards. Wizards are immensely powerful beings, known for their corruption, wickedness, and hideous appearances, and who committed great atrocities on behalf of the empires in the latter days of the wars. There is a common belief that there are no lawful wizards, the entire lot of them being motivated only by greed, envy, and their own inherent depravity. Powerful magic bears a corrupting touch to all who would wield it, and only the most powerful wizards are able to do away with its most deleterious effects. These wizards are able to pass those corruptions off by polymorphing their wheals and scars and strange afflictions onto unsuspecting victims or prisoners, or by simply transferring their consciousness wholly into another body, leaving their former, broken bodies behind. Wizards can therefore appear to be any person, any age. People are especially wary of the infirm or deformed, since natural deformation can greatly resemble magical corruption.
Since the end of the wars, many wizards have built towers amidst the wastes, and travellers who know better steer far clear of these accursed dominions. While wizards are not technically subjects to the nations within which they dwell (being granted special autonomy for "services to the empire"), many are paid off by the respective domains to attack, spy on, or harry the other. Most simply take the money as bribery and don't waste their time on such trivial matters, but others have proven to be very dangerous lapdogs for their patrons, leaving mayhem and havoc in their wakes. Oftentimes armed mobs will attempt to remove the magical threat from their areas, though these are seldom successful and usually just result in more subjects to experiment upon; since wizards often are celebrated by the powers that be as heroes of the empire, these mobs are considered criminals, despite the fact that they are just trying to protect themselves. Most troublingly, some wizards have even infiltrated remote villages, slowly manipulating the inhabitants until they are all under the wizard's control, and function as no better than thralls or herd animals to the wizard's whim. This is not even to mention those especially dark wizards who practice necromancy. While some of these stereotypes about wizards' wickedness might be exaggerations, it is clear that there is ample evidence to give wizardry a bad reputation. Any traveller suspected of being a magic-user, therefore, even a dabbler, is usually detained, questioned, tortured, and often banished or put to death.
Despite all of the negativity surrounding magic-users, there are many who practice their art in secret, or use it for good. One who can conjure a fire from thin air despite driving wind or rain, or can entangle a powerful beast with invisible threads, can be of great assistance to adventurers and scavengers. Some who have "proven themselves" again and again can even be accepted by their community; it is uncommon, but not excessively rare, to come across a town with a "village witch" or "wise man." It is representative of the state of the world that such wielders of power can be seen with such great ambivalence.
Additionally, those who are able to work miracles, such as divine clerics, are nearly universally held in high esteem. Despite most clerics being peaceful, studious types who seldom venture out beyond the walls of their monasteries and places of study, there is a whole class of stouter folk, dedicated to casting out evil with great prejudice wherever it crops up in the world. These battle-clerics accept exacting strictures, such as never wielding a sharpened weapon, and frequently tithe a large portion of their spoils back to the monasteries in which they were raised. Since it is believed that their powers to repel darkness and evil come as blessings directly from their gods, they are careful to remain faithful to their beliefs. The common belief is that clerics are by their nature solemn, prayerful, and stern, but in reality they come in as wide of temperament as anyone else, as long as they are strong in their faith. Some very skilled wizards even disguise themselves as clerics, working hard to mask their arcane energies as divine miracles, in order to practice more publicly.
Despite there being many different "kinds" of magic users, most are just simply referred to as wizards. "Wizard" is also used as a sort of insult; referring to someone as a wizard is like saying they are heartless, cruel, or insane. The most dreaded of all wizards, however, are necromancers. These are the worst, most insane, most corrupt, and most dangerous of all wielders of magic. Despite these being, often, the most powerful magic-users around, they are shunned and reviled, and hunted down by agents of the empire. For this reason, many necromancers create hidden lairs underground, or deep within caves, or even in disguised mausolea within graveyards. Some tales are even told of necromancers who have created hidden fortresses on coastal islands and reefs, or on alluvial islands in rivers, keeping their activities invisible under a magical veil.
Since the end of the wars, many wizards have built towers amidst the wastes, and travellers who know better steer far clear of these accursed dominions. While wizards are not technically subjects to the nations within which they dwell (being granted special autonomy for "services to the empire"), many are paid off by the respective domains to attack, spy on, or harry the other. Most simply take the money as bribery and don't waste their time on such trivial matters, but others have proven to be very dangerous lapdogs for their patrons, leaving mayhem and havoc in their wakes. Oftentimes armed mobs will attempt to remove the magical threat from their areas, though these are seldom successful and usually just result in more subjects to experiment upon; since wizards often are celebrated by the powers that be as heroes of the empire, these mobs are considered criminals, despite the fact that they are just trying to protect themselves. Most troublingly, some wizards have even infiltrated remote villages, slowly manipulating the inhabitants until they are all under the wizard's control, and function as no better than thralls or herd animals to the wizard's whim. This is not even to mention those especially dark wizards who practice necromancy. While some of these stereotypes about wizards' wickedness might be exaggerations, it is clear that there is ample evidence to give wizardry a bad reputation. Any traveller suspected of being a magic-user, therefore, even a dabbler, is usually detained, questioned, tortured, and often banished or put to death.
Despite all of the negativity surrounding magic-users, there are many who practice their art in secret, or use it for good. One who can conjure a fire from thin air despite driving wind or rain, or can entangle a powerful beast with invisible threads, can be of great assistance to adventurers and scavengers. Some who have "proven themselves" again and again can even be accepted by their community; it is uncommon, but not excessively rare, to come across a town with a "village witch" or "wise man." It is representative of the state of the world that such wielders of power can be seen with such great ambivalence.
Additionally, those who are able to work miracles, such as divine clerics, are nearly universally held in high esteem. Despite most clerics being peaceful, studious types who seldom venture out beyond the walls of their monasteries and places of study, there is a whole class of stouter folk, dedicated to casting out evil with great prejudice wherever it crops up in the world. These battle-clerics accept exacting strictures, such as never wielding a sharpened weapon, and frequently tithe a large portion of their spoils back to the monasteries in which they were raised. Since it is believed that their powers to repel darkness and evil come as blessings directly from their gods, they are careful to remain faithful to their beliefs. The common belief is that clerics are by their nature solemn, prayerful, and stern, but in reality they come in as wide of temperament as anyone else, as long as they are strong in their faith. Some very skilled wizards even disguise themselves as clerics, working hard to mask their arcane energies as divine miracles, in order to practice more publicly.
Despite there being many different "kinds" of magic users, most are just simply referred to as wizards. "Wizard" is also used as a sort of insult; referring to someone as a wizard is like saying they are heartless, cruel, or insane. The most dreaded of all wizards, however, are necromancers. These are the worst, most insane, most corrupt, and most dangerous of all wielders of magic. Despite these being, often, the most powerful magic-users around, they are shunned and reviled, and hunted down by agents of the empire. For this reason, many necromancers create hidden lairs underground, or deep within caves, or even in disguised mausolea within graveyards. Some tales are even told of necromancers who have created hidden fortresses on coastal islands and reefs, or on alluvial islands in rivers, keeping their activities invisible under a magical veil.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
[Secaelia] The Demi-Human Races
While there are tales of great nations of dwarves and elves in the distant past, these are merely legends now. The demi-human races have mostly faded away. The elves dwell deep within the most ancient and primordial forests, and are reputed to have worked their own magic to ensure that none survive the trek to find them. The dwarves remain holed up in their own subterranean lairs, hidden amidst never-ending labyrinths of tunnels and traps, seldom being seen above the ground. The halflings and the gnomes are hardly seen at all, leading many to believe that they have become extinct; that is, until one or several wander into a town to trade, and then disappear once again. None of the demi-human races are common anywhere in the world, though it is most common to find them within Eflart, as often as servants or bondsmen as traders, travellers, or adventurers. Elves, because of their natural talents with wizardry, are often treated with a combination of disgust, disdain, and suspicion; dwarves, because of their reputation for deceitful, violent, and troublesome tendencies, are also often shut out of many establishments; halflings and gnomes, due to their preternatural ability to get in and out of unlikely places and situations (which lends itself readily to thievery), are also often watched very closely whenever they enter a town or city.
There are very few demi-humans who dwell permanently within human cities. Many who do have indentured themselves into service for some reason or another. Some appear, for all intents and purposes, to just be simple shopkeepers and artisans, who have an honest living and who endure the occasional jeers from those who have negative opinions of their race. Even fewer eke out a dishonest living as thieves, scoundrels, and highwaymen, as the penalties for those of their race found guilty of such crimes are much steeper than their human counterparts; this does not deter many, however, who hold that the most important policy for a criminal is to never get caught. The vast majority of demi-humans found within the human world, however, are itinerants, adventurers, and factotums. Very few attempts are made to create alliances with demi-human nations, wherever they may be. But neither have there been many attempts to entirely subdue them and tie them to the yoke of human sovereignty. There is a story of one of the princes of Ruvirion once ordering a forest where elves were reputed to live be burned to the ground. The forest burned, and shortly afterwards he himself was found burnt to ashes in his own bed. Ever since, there has been a policy of non-intervention in place; elvish and dwarvish enclaves are considered sovereign territory within the two empires, given to this right by sworn imperial edict, and required to abide by all imperial laws and customs (and to agree to surrender to imperial authorities upon noncompliance to these laws) as soon as they set foot out of their designated habitation areas and into imperial territory.
Most interaction between humans and demi-humans is cordial, and without incident. As one goes nearer to the capitals, anti-demi-human propaganda is more prominent, and hostility towards demi-humans is more commonplace, but throughout most of the known world, whether Estia or Ruvirion, there is no bad blood. Many humans within the empires may consider demi-humans to be inherently "inferior" to them, and certainly might question the demi-humans' seemingly immediate decisions to surrender to the human empires, but actual anti-demi-human violence is uncommon. Humans of larger cities might deface shops owned or operated by demi-humans, or shout negative slogans at them in public, but these types are usually punished when caught in the act. Still, demi-humans are, according to imperial law, second-class citizens, and do not have the same rights and privileges as humans wherever imperial law is being upheld. This is not to say that many towns actually observe these laws when not directly being observed or governed by imperial forces, and many have very strongly pro-demi-human beliefs. Nevertheless, those who are not accustomed to the presence of demi-humans might display fear, hostility, suspicion, or confusion when required to make contact with them.
There are very few demi-humans who dwell permanently within human cities. Many who do have indentured themselves into service for some reason or another. Some appear, for all intents and purposes, to just be simple shopkeepers and artisans, who have an honest living and who endure the occasional jeers from those who have negative opinions of their race. Even fewer eke out a dishonest living as thieves, scoundrels, and highwaymen, as the penalties for those of their race found guilty of such crimes are much steeper than their human counterparts; this does not deter many, however, who hold that the most important policy for a criminal is to never get caught. The vast majority of demi-humans found within the human world, however, are itinerants, adventurers, and factotums. Very few attempts are made to create alliances with demi-human nations, wherever they may be. But neither have there been many attempts to entirely subdue them and tie them to the yoke of human sovereignty. There is a story of one of the princes of Ruvirion once ordering a forest where elves were reputed to live be burned to the ground. The forest burned, and shortly afterwards he himself was found burnt to ashes in his own bed. Ever since, there has been a policy of non-intervention in place; elvish and dwarvish enclaves are considered sovereign territory within the two empires, given to this right by sworn imperial edict, and required to abide by all imperial laws and customs (and to agree to surrender to imperial authorities upon noncompliance to these laws) as soon as they set foot out of their designated habitation areas and into imperial territory.
Most interaction between humans and demi-humans is cordial, and without incident. As one goes nearer to the capitals, anti-demi-human propaganda is more prominent, and hostility towards demi-humans is more commonplace, but throughout most of the known world, whether Estia or Ruvirion, there is no bad blood. Many humans within the empires may consider demi-humans to be inherently "inferior" to them, and certainly might question the demi-humans' seemingly immediate decisions to surrender to the human empires, but actual anti-demi-human violence is uncommon. Humans of larger cities might deface shops owned or operated by demi-humans, or shout negative slogans at them in public, but these types are usually punished when caught in the act. Still, demi-humans are, according to imperial law, second-class citizens, and do not have the same rights and privileges as humans wherever imperial law is being upheld. This is not to say that many towns actually observe these laws when not directly being observed or governed by imperial forces, and many have very strongly pro-demi-human beliefs. Nevertheless, those who are not accustomed to the presence of demi-humans might display fear, hostility, suspicion, or confusion when required to make contact with them.
Monday, January 23, 2012
[Secaelia] The State of the Nations
Besides a smattering of previously existing border towns, and impromptu villages which sprung up around permanent military outposts positioned to guard the border, the borderlands between the two great nations are surprisingly empty. One can travel for days from town to town and find only ruins or wasteland. For this reason, most who travel do so in large caravans, to protect against not only the wild beasts who inhabit the wastes, but also marauders and as protection against exhaustion, starvation, or dehydration while passing through the inhospitable lands. Surviving cities, towns, and villages are a welcome sight, and many along the new travel routes have rapidly grown in size.
However, due to the disarray that rapid population growth can bring, crime is a major concern for these small towns, which may not have the ability or resources to protect themselves adequately against that element. They may send a messenger to the capital to request intervention, but it could be months or years before they receive a response, if they even get one at all. Worse, many who frequent these towns pass themselves off as "adventurers" actually are no better than thugs, preying on the weak and unprotected and helping themselves to whatever they can steal. There is a great deal of mistrust of groups of well-equipped and armored travellers, as they could just as easily be mercenaries or marauders than adventurers on legitimate business. Nevertheless, there are others who uphold the law and decency and make a name for themselves protecting the innocent, recovering the lost, and "liberating" artifacts lost amidst the flames of war. These types can be mercenaries as well, but can just as likely be genuine heroes.
Much of the land covered by either of the empires is nearly entirely unprotected. A great deal of arable land was destroyed by battles, leaving only wasteland behind. The empires are larger than they can possibly directly manage, so while much of the populated world is supposedly carved up between one of the two great empires, many who live within will never feel the direct effect of imperial influence. Occasionally parades of "peacekeeping" forces can be found, but most military personnel are garrisoned either on the border, or within larger cities. The cost of the wars in time, resources, and human life was nearly incalculable, and where the humans no longer dwell, the monsters have reclaimed the land. Ghost towns may be filled with literal ghosts, but could just as easily have been taken over by goblins, ghouls, scavenging pests, or any number of other creepy-crawlies. A predominance of undead in an area can strongly indicate the presence of a necromancer, or worse, a necromancer who has become undead themselves (i.e. become a lich).
Many of the surviving towns have constructed walls if they did not have them before, and they will nearly exclusively not allow travellers entry at night. Despite the capital cities of the two empires being massive, lavish, magnificent examples of engineering, artistry, and urban planning, the subjects of both empires live the lives of serfs, servants, and supplicants. Typically towns are in the vicinity of arable farmland, and usually they will have military or militia patrols to protect against monsters. Human activity outside of villages is usually a good indicator of the health and security of the local society and economy, but is by no means always true. Despite frequent raids by the imperial guards of the two empires, shantytowns composed entirely of slavers, highwaymen, or the like, do still manage to occasionally crop up. Some even maintain the outward appearance of an ordinary farming or fishing village in order to avoid suspicion and undue imperial interest.
Certainly there are areas of the world more secure than others. In places less fiercely affected by the centuries of warfare, such as as one gets closer and closer to the capital cities of each empire, there are fewer monsters and bandits, and people do not have to be as cautious. Even in the more wild regions around the borderlands, where monster attacks are frequent, people do not live in fear; security is usually good enough within the city walls, and a high amount of trust is placed in local constabularies and militias to "keep the bad out." Most will do all they can to avoid travel at night, or being trapped outside of the city walls, not because they expect monster attack, but because they would prefer not to have to take the chance.
However, due to the disarray that rapid population growth can bring, crime is a major concern for these small towns, which may not have the ability or resources to protect themselves adequately against that element. They may send a messenger to the capital to request intervention, but it could be months or years before they receive a response, if they even get one at all. Worse, many who frequent these towns pass themselves off as "adventurers" actually are no better than thugs, preying on the weak and unprotected and helping themselves to whatever they can steal. There is a great deal of mistrust of groups of well-equipped and armored travellers, as they could just as easily be mercenaries or marauders than adventurers on legitimate business. Nevertheless, there are others who uphold the law and decency and make a name for themselves protecting the innocent, recovering the lost, and "liberating" artifacts lost amidst the flames of war. These types can be mercenaries as well, but can just as likely be genuine heroes.
Much of the land covered by either of the empires is nearly entirely unprotected. A great deal of arable land was destroyed by battles, leaving only wasteland behind. The empires are larger than they can possibly directly manage, so while much of the populated world is supposedly carved up between one of the two great empires, many who live within will never feel the direct effect of imperial influence. Occasionally parades of "peacekeeping" forces can be found, but most military personnel are garrisoned either on the border, or within larger cities. The cost of the wars in time, resources, and human life was nearly incalculable, and where the humans no longer dwell, the monsters have reclaimed the land. Ghost towns may be filled with literal ghosts, but could just as easily have been taken over by goblins, ghouls, scavenging pests, or any number of other creepy-crawlies. A predominance of undead in an area can strongly indicate the presence of a necromancer, or worse, a necromancer who has become undead themselves (i.e. become a lich).
Many of the surviving towns have constructed walls if they did not have them before, and they will nearly exclusively not allow travellers entry at night. Despite the capital cities of the two empires being massive, lavish, magnificent examples of engineering, artistry, and urban planning, the subjects of both empires live the lives of serfs, servants, and supplicants. Typically towns are in the vicinity of arable farmland, and usually they will have military or militia patrols to protect against monsters. Human activity outside of villages is usually a good indicator of the health and security of the local society and economy, but is by no means always true. Despite frequent raids by the imperial guards of the two empires, shantytowns composed entirely of slavers, highwaymen, or the like, do still manage to occasionally crop up. Some even maintain the outward appearance of an ordinary farming or fishing village in order to avoid suspicion and undue imperial interest.
Certainly there are areas of the world more secure than others. In places less fiercely affected by the centuries of warfare, such as as one gets closer and closer to the capital cities of each empire, there are fewer monsters and bandits, and people do not have to be as cautious. Even in the more wild regions around the borderlands, where monster attacks are frequent, people do not live in fear; security is usually good enough within the city walls, and a high amount of trust is placed in local constabularies and militias to "keep the bad out." Most will do all they can to avoid travel at night, or being trapped outside of the city walls, not because they expect monster attack, but because they would prefer not to have to take the chance.
Friday, January 20, 2012
[Secaelia] The Two Empires, and the Free City
The world of Secaelia is one that bears the deep scars of years of conflict, but now presently exists in an uneasy peace. Two great empires have arisen, after devouring or destroying all others that lay in their paths. In their wake many small nations, states, and principalities simply ceased to exist; their entire bloodlines wiped out, their symbols of authority destroyed. Those who survived the destruction of their houses have been branded traitors to the new empire, fugitives from justice, war criminals, and dangerously insane individuals; or else have simply been forgotten and living as commoners somewhere within the bounds of their former kingdoms or further abroad. The only remainders are Estia, which rules the south and east, and Ruvirion, who rules the west. On a northern shore, packed between these two behemoths, is the highly contested former capital of the fallen Anstarian empire, the free city of Eflart.
In ages past, Anstaria was the jewel of civilization, but became more and more fractured and insecure as time went by. By the time of the Great Wars, Anstaria was only a pale shadow of its former self, the small nations that splintered away from it broke easily under the military might of Estia and Ruvirion. The wars, which lasted hundreds of years and cost untold numbers of lives, have finally been at an end for nearly 150 years now. The borders between the nations have been more or less stable for this time, maintaining a delicate truce. Both nations finally had to acknowledge that the wars could simply no longer continue. However, a great degree of mistrust still exists between them.
For this reason Eflart was spared. Here neither nation can lay claim, and it is here where both nations carry out their diplomatic business, as well as trade, without fear of treachery or backstabbing. Its symbolic nature as the former capital of Anstaria still carries significant weight, and rather than be the prize which either nation could claim, it became the neutral grounds upon which they might actually open up reasonable dialogue. Indeed, emissaries from either nation wear bright white tunics emblazoned with the symbol of their nation; the color and style are forbidden to all other residents of the city. Both nations have agreed to donate an equal amount of money to Eflart to maintain an internal police force, as well as for basic amenities and upkeep. As a center of trade, its relative freedom from regulation and oversight from either empire has made it even more prosperous. However, despite being free from rule by either of the empires, this does not mean that it is an easy place to live.
Due to its "official" function as the diplomatic neutral-territory between Estia and Ruvirion, laws for conduct within Eflart's walls are draconian and inflexible. All acts of violence within its bounds against emissaries are punishable by death. All other acts of violence are punished almost as severely, be it willful murder or simple brawling, with punishments ranging from public beheading for major offenses, to lashing for minor ones, with the most severe crimes resulting in being hung in cages from the city's towers and gates, and then simply left to die, be feasted upon by birds, and slowly rot away. Most weapons and armor are confiscated by authorities upon entry to the city; special dispensation to do otherwise must be displayed prominently, or risk severe punishment or expulsion. All items can be retrieved by handing in a chit as one exits the city again; losing the chit means you're out of luck. Mix-ups inevitably occur, but are surprisingly rare. Any reputation for disorganization would severely damage the city's status.
Because of Eflart's prosperity and political significance, there is almost as much city that has sprung up outside of its walls than exist inside. Outer Eflart has a much less shining reputation. Despite the main road into and out of the inner city being kept mostly clear, delving too deeply into the newer construction to the west, southwest, southeast, and east of the walled city can be a dangerous experience. There are regular raids by the city constabulary, and even sanctioned military sweeps from either of the two empires, but nevertheless the criminal element is thick. All manner of illicit goods are available, from the dangerous, to the illegal, to the downright counterfeited and useless. Prices, as one might expect, vary widely, and one may occasionally get a great deal on a piece of legitimate merchandise. Additionally, those accoutrements "lost" from the armory occasionally turn up for trade in the bazaars of the outer city, sometimes even for a steal, though being seen in their armor by the original owner might lead to some complicated questions.
In ages past, Anstaria was the jewel of civilization, but became more and more fractured and insecure as time went by. By the time of the Great Wars, Anstaria was only a pale shadow of its former self, the small nations that splintered away from it broke easily under the military might of Estia and Ruvirion. The wars, which lasted hundreds of years and cost untold numbers of lives, have finally been at an end for nearly 150 years now. The borders between the nations have been more or less stable for this time, maintaining a delicate truce. Both nations finally had to acknowledge that the wars could simply no longer continue. However, a great degree of mistrust still exists between them.
For this reason Eflart was spared. Here neither nation can lay claim, and it is here where both nations carry out their diplomatic business, as well as trade, without fear of treachery or backstabbing. Its symbolic nature as the former capital of Anstaria still carries significant weight, and rather than be the prize which either nation could claim, it became the neutral grounds upon which they might actually open up reasonable dialogue. Indeed, emissaries from either nation wear bright white tunics emblazoned with the symbol of their nation; the color and style are forbidden to all other residents of the city. Both nations have agreed to donate an equal amount of money to Eflart to maintain an internal police force, as well as for basic amenities and upkeep. As a center of trade, its relative freedom from regulation and oversight from either empire has made it even more prosperous. However, despite being free from rule by either of the empires, this does not mean that it is an easy place to live.
Due to its "official" function as the diplomatic neutral-territory between Estia and Ruvirion, laws for conduct within Eflart's walls are draconian and inflexible. All acts of violence within its bounds against emissaries are punishable by death. All other acts of violence are punished almost as severely, be it willful murder or simple brawling, with punishments ranging from public beheading for major offenses, to lashing for minor ones, with the most severe crimes resulting in being hung in cages from the city's towers and gates, and then simply left to die, be feasted upon by birds, and slowly rot away. Most weapons and armor are confiscated by authorities upon entry to the city; special dispensation to do otherwise must be displayed prominently, or risk severe punishment or expulsion. All items can be retrieved by handing in a chit as one exits the city again; losing the chit means you're out of luck. Mix-ups inevitably occur, but are surprisingly rare. Any reputation for disorganization would severely damage the city's status.
Because of Eflart's prosperity and political significance, there is almost as much city that has sprung up outside of its walls than exist inside. Outer Eflart has a much less shining reputation. Despite the main road into and out of the inner city being kept mostly clear, delving too deeply into the newer construction to the west, southwest, southeast, and east of the walled city can be a dangerous experience. There are regular raids by the city constabulary, and even sanctioned military sweeps from either of the two empires, but nevertheless the criminal element is thick. All manner of illicit goods are available, from the dangerous, to the illegal, to the downright counterfeited and useless. Prices, as one might expect, vary widely, and one may occasionally get a great deal on a piece of legitimate merchandise. Additionally, those accoutrements "lost" from the armory occasionally turn up for trade in the bazaars of the outer city, sometimes even for a steal, though being seen in their armor by the original owner might lead to some complicated questions.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
[Secaelia] A Swords and Wizardry homebrew world, Introduction
Recently, I have been becoming more interested in retroclones, and the OSR mentality more broadly. I can't say that it really provides a compelling alternative to modern games, Dungeons and Dragons 4th edition included (since I think that many of the changes that have occurred over the years as gaming has evolved have been good ones), but retroclones do provide what I believe is a valuable insight as to where fantasy gaming has gone over the years, and more importantly, what modern players of "old-school" games continue to value about those previous incarnations. Thanks to the "open" nature of the OSR overall, very many of these retroclones are available, free of charge, for download off of their websites. Usually there is a paid version as well if you'd prefer a "dead tree" version, which also includes art that has been removed from the free versions. Of the ones I've read, I would have to say that my favorites are Labyrinth Lord and Swords and Wizardry, which are both styled after the 0e/Basic "strain" of Dungeons and Dragons.
What I prefer about Labyrinth Lord are the multiple saves against different kinds of effects; this makes sense to me. What I don't prefer about it is that all weapons deal 1d6 damage, and that it has descending AC. I feel like we've moved beyond THAC0, as a gaming culture, and one less table to look at is always a good thing. Swords and Wizardry gives the GM the choice: all stats are marked for ascending and descending AC. S&W also has more supplemental material, at least that I've been able to find, that makes it easier to customize a game. The single save against effects seems overly simplistic to me, compared to Labyrinth Lord, but it would certainly speed things up at the table. I can't imagine it would be too difficult to translate any material for LL over to S&W, or vice versa. I still can't decide, were I to actually run a game, which of the systems I would utilize. But from a purely academic standpoint, S&W seems a slight bit easier to develop from.
What I find most compelling about the "older" editions of D&D is the ambiguity of encounters. Just because it is possible to encounter a certain kind of monster, does not at all mean that you'll actually be able to kill it, or even harm it (in the case of creatures that can only be damaged by +1 weapons, silver, etc). You might find yourself totally out of your league and have to resort to quick thinking (or even quicker feet). This is a sharp contrast to 4e, where it is a pretty safe assumption that if you encounter a creature, or group of creatures at all, chances are the encounter will be "balanced" and there will be a very high likelihood of success. Additionally, given that Hit Points are rolled up for each creature based on their Hit Dice, you may end up cleaving one creature down with one swipe, but then hammer away at another one for several turns and it doesn't appear to be worse for the wear. Further, it's highly possible that that ultra-tough kobold might not even be a kobold, but some sort of shape-shifting extradimensional predator that has been slowly feeding upon the kobolds over the past few weeks and disguising itself as one of their own to avoid suspicion. And it would take only a couple minutes to completely write up and stat out such a creature, should the PCs decide later to hunt it down and try to kill it.
Additionally, many bonuses are not awarded for inherent abilities or selected feats or class powers, but simply good gaming. You might get a flat roll against an orc if you were to just walk up to it and hit it with a club, or you might get a bonus to your hit if you spend your previous turn climbing to the top of a statue, and then jumping down on top of it with your club swinging. This is not something that is impossible in 4e, but it is something which the system seems to inherently discourage. My feelings while playing 4e have always been such that a round without taking a damage-causing action is a wasted round. Plus, errata over the past four years seems to have been in a neverending cold war with itself, ramping up both monster strength and character damage, creating what is to me a total mess, if you insist on playing by the DDI rules instead of out of the books. I do like how experience is awarded in a much more free format; the big XP bonuses are for completing an adventure or achieving a major milestone, not stomping knee-deep through the dead and becoming a one-person full service slaughterhouse. I've frequently found the 4e solution of "kill everything first and look for clues later" to be troubling, and not exactly entirely encouraging of rock-solid roleplay.
Lastly, I find that the genericity of retroclones leads, at least to me, to it being a lot easier to create a custom world. For this last reason, I will be publishing, mostly as an exercise in design, my own game world, intended to take place within the Swords and Wizardry milieu. Anything with statistics I will endeavor to present in the S&W style, with both ascending and descending AC, to preserve the modularity that that method provides.
I suppose all of this is probably a direct response to the fervor (and ire) surrounding the announcement of the as-yet-officially-unnamed 5th edition of Dungeons and Dragons, and forcing me as well to think about what I like or don't like about game mechanics and design. To me, simpler is usually better; I was never on board with AD&D, and 4th edition was a welcome alternative to the (in my opinion overly laden) 3rd and 3rd-and-a-half.
What I prefer about Labyrinth Lord are the multiple saves against different kinds of effects; this makes sense to me. What I don't prefer about it is that all weapons deal 1d6 damage, and that it has descending AC. I feel like we've moved beyond THAC0, as a gaming culture, and one less table to look at is always a good thing. Swords and Wizardry gives the GM the choice: all stats are marked for ascending and descending AC. S&W also has more supplemental material, at least that I've been able to find, that makes it easier to customize a game. The single save against effects seems overly simplistic to me, compared to Labyrinth Lord, but it would certainly speed things up at the table. I can't imagine it would be too difficult to translate any material for LL over to S&W, or vice versa. I still can't decide, were I to actually run a game, which of the systems I would utilize. But from a purely academic standpoint, S&W seems a slight bit easier to develop from.
What I find most compelling about the "older" editions of D&D is the ambiguity of encounters. Just because it is possible to encounter a certain kind of monster, does not at all mean that you'll actually be able to kill it, or even harm it (in the case of creatures that can only be damaged by +1 weapons, silver, etc). You might find yourself totally out of your league and have to resort to quick thinking (or even quicker feet). This is a sharp contrast to 4e, where it is a pretty safe assumption that if you encounter a creature, or group of creatures at all, chances are the encounter will be "balanced" and there will be a very high likelihood of success. Additionally, given that Hit Points are rolled up for each creature based on their Hit Dice, you may end up cleaving one creature down with one swipe, but then hammer away at another one for several turns and it doesn't appear to be worse for the wear. Further, it's highly possible that that ultra-tough kobold might not even be a kobold, but some sort of shape-shifting extradimensional predator that has been slowly feeding upon the kobolds over the past few weeks and disguising itself as one of their own to avoid suspicion. And it would take only a couple minutes to completely write up and stat out such a creature, should the PCs decide later to hunt it down and try to kill it.
Additionally, many bonuses are not awarded for inherent abilities or selected feats or class powers, but simply good gaming. You might get a flat roll against an orc if you were to just walk up to it and hit it with a club, or you might get a bonus to your hit if you spend your previous turn climbing to the top of a statue, and then jumping down on top of it with your club swinging. This is not something that is impossible in 4e, but it is something which the system seems to inherently discourage. My feelings while playing 4e have always been such that a round without taking a damage-causing action is a wasted round. Plus, errata over the past four years seems to have been in a neverending cold war with itself, ramping up both monster strength and character damage, creating what is to me a total mess, if you insist on playing by the DDI rules instead of out of the books. I do like how experience is awarded in a much more free format; the big XP bonuses are for completing an adventure or achieving a major milestone, not stomping knee-deep through the dead and becoming a one-person full service slaughterhouse. I've frequently found the 4e solution of "kill everything first and look for clues later" to be troubling, and not exactly entirely encouraging of rock-solid roleplay.
Lastly, I find that the genericity of retroclones leads, at least to me, to it being a lot easier to create a custom world. For this last reason, I will be publishing, mostly as an exercise in design, my own game world, intended to take place within the Swords and Wizardry milieu. Anything with statistics I will endeavor to present in the S&W style, with both ascending and descending AC, to preserve the modularity that that method provides.
I suppose all of this is probably a direct response to the fervor (and ire) surrounding the announcement of the as-yet-officially-unnamed 5th edition of Dungeons and Dragons, and forcing me as well to think about what I like or don't like about game mechanics and design. To me, simpler is usually better; I was never on board with AD&D, and 4th edition was a welcome alternative to the (in my opinion overly laden) 3rd and 3rd-and-a-half.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
New magical item: The Gambler's Dice
This is a unique and powerful non-artifact magic item, system-agnostic but written with 4e in mind. I was inspired to finish it considering the recent "Got Loot?" blogging festival, though this is something that has been incubating in my mind since at least last April. It is my attempt to bring a sort of Fortune Cards-like aesthetic into the game, without being overly intrusive, but also having consequences. It utilizes FUDGE dice, which are special six-sided dice which have two blank faces, two faces bearing a "-" and two faces bearing a "+". It was very influenced by the Deck of Many Things, among other things, and I'd hope that its implementation and manifestation could be relatively flexible to manage in-game. Players can come across individual dice, as with cards from the DoMT, or else the entire set, whichever would seem more appropriate within the story. The item, which is a set of four ivory dice inset with golden suns and silver moons, will appear to be just an ordinary, if valuable, set of dice for a game called Canicerre (can-i-sair). It will be common in the area of the world where the dice are found, but relatively rare elsewhere. I use a combination of locales from 4th edition (Bael Turath features in the story), but also a newly invented locale (the Alvastratian Empire), which I figure for story's sake existed in the same larger geographical area as Bael Turath, but perhaps pre-dating both it and Arkhosia. There is no reason why any or all of it could not be relocated to somewhere more familiar to Pathfinder fans, such as Varisia or Katapesh. I'm less familiar with Golarion and I write chiefly for 4e (being the fantasy RPG with which I am most familiar), so it becomes my "implicit" setting. Similarly I use Tieflings and Eladrin in the story text, but the storyteller himself is suspicious of those attributions. They could readily be renamed to something more appropriate.
The dice themselves should be presented, at first, as simple treasure. They are made of a valuable material (ivory), appear to be very well made and of high quality, and two sides are inset with gold, and two sides are inset with silver. It would be assumed that a reasonable player would see the value in these, at least as loot to sell for gold or silver back in town. Likewise, the location they are found in should be relatively unremarkable; maybe they spill out of an old boot that is carelessly knocked over while one of the PCs is looking for something else. Maybe they are simply set atop a table within a cave that had been at some point previously been occupied but currently seems abandoned. However, the true value of the dice only becomes apparent once the PCs attempt to sell them. When presented to a shopkeeper, especially if asked what they are for, the following monologue might occur. Alternately, if one of the characters is particularly well versed in local history, they may know the following already:
"It's an old Alvastratian game, it's called Canicerre; it's simple. Let me show you. There are four dice, they each have these symbols on them, right? The sun represents a positive turn of fortune, the moon a negative; yeah the Alvastratians were sun worshippers, what do you want? You put all four dice in a cup, and you shake it around. You try to get one die to pop out; a lot of pros get up to some pretty fancy shaking to make it happen and land where they want it to. The rest of the dice stay in the cup, and you quick turn it over and smack it down on the table so they're under the cup, still covered. Everybody bets on whether the overall outcome will be positive or negative, and then the cup is lifted. Positive and negative sides cancel each other out, blank sides don't have an influence one way or the other. If the outcome is neutral, everyone gets their money back. If it's moons, all the people who betted suns lose their money. If it's suns, all the people who betted moons lose their money, get it? It's split up evenly from all the losers to all the winners, so if you're betting on an unpopular outcome, you stand to win more money than if you go with everyone else on it. If everyone bets one way and the result is the other, the person rolling the dice gets it all; it's the only way they can win since they can't ordinarily take bets, and it doesn't happen very often, but when it does, oh man, it can be a lot of money. There was a saying back in the old days in Alvastratia, 'rich as a roller.'
"But these dice, these are special. You probably don't know what you have here. See, there's a legend about these dice. They say that there was a guy, a gambler, who lived in the port of Arkash. Arkash was in Bael Turath, so tradition says that he was a Tiefling. Makes sense to me, since everybody knows that Canicerre is a Tiefling game anyway... At least they're the ones who are always playing it anywhere they go. Anyway, there was a gambler, nobody knows his name any more. I guess it's not important. And this guy, he gambled on everything. It was just sort of his nature. He said that if he had something, it was his to lose. If someone else had something, it was his to win. And he was always fair. If he lost, he lost graciously and moved on, never held any grudges, never carried any superstitions or excess baggage along with it. Winning and losing, that was the only thing that mattered. He wasn't even known, so the stories go, for being particularly daring with his bets, I guess he just liked to leave everything up to fate or something. I don't know.
"But one day, as the story goes, he met a traveller. Now, a lot of people say it was an eladrin, but I don't know if that's so much that it was really an eladrin or if they just want some sort of trickster figure and eladrin fit but anyway, doesn't matter. This traveller is in town for a few days, watches the Gambler gambling on everything, finally approaches him. He pulls out these ancient, ancient looking Canicerre dice, inset with gold and silver, obviously well-worn but still in great shape, and says "I'll play you for these; they have a value far beyond anything you will ever possibly know." The Gambler, he's impressed by the dice, they're good looking, but he doesn't buy the yarn about any 'immeasurable value.' But a game's a game, so they go in to it. They drop in to a gambling house, the traveler hands a dealer there the dice. See it used to be polite if you were in a new town to at least make the gesture like you're contributing to the local economy, you know, give the dealer a chance to win, yadda yadda. Anyway, the dealer drops them in the cup, and the eladrin (or whoever) gestures to the Gambler, and says 'your call.'
"The dealer swirls the cup, pops a die out, it's the sun facing. Nevertheless, the Gambler says 'favor only shines at night.' See, there are a lot of traditions with the game; some people just say positive or negative, some people say suns and moons, this guy gussied up his calls with a little poetry, guess he did it so often he had to keep it interesting. Whatever. The eladrin (whatever) says 'suns' to give the opposite bid. You know, it's polite if you're playing one-on-one to pick opposing bids, otherwise there's a lot of stalemates going on. Also it's usually smart to pick the facing symbol anyway because the odds are a little in favor of what's already showing. The dealer nods, lifts the cup. There are two moons and a sun. Stalemate. Since they're not playing for money, the dealer sweeps up the dice and drops them in the cup. One pops out, it's a sun again. Yet again, the Gambler says 'dark as night, never bright.' The eladrin nods, and replies 'the sun will forever shine.' The dealer nods, lifts the cup. Again, it's two moons and a sun. Once again, the dealer scoops up the dice, pours them into the cup, and swirls it around. He pops a die, it shows a blank face. The eladrin says 'ah, intriguing! Why don't we raise the wager? If I win, I make one request, which you must abide by for the rest of your days. If you win, I remain here in your service, until I am discharged by your command.' The Gambler says, 'no sir, we began this game over these dice, and these dice are what I'm playing for. If you want to make other wagers, we'll resolve this one first and then we'll talk.' The eladrin nods and raises his hand to gesture that the Gambler make his bet. The Gambler says 'three moons hang alone in the sky, never to meet, never to die.'
"See this is another thing I forgot to tell you about the game. Sometimes people will make a wager based on what the exact configuration of the dice will be, and then they can win more of the pot than usual, but they weren't playing this game. I guess he was just making that bet for poetic purposes, it wouldn't have had any effect on the game one way or the other, just that he had wagered on 'moons' instead of 'suns.' The eladrin says 'three times three is a risky wager indeed!' Do you see where some people might think that this character might have been an eladrin, by the way? Who talks like that but them? Well, I suppose halflings do, but nobody wants to listen to a story about a mysterious halfling. Anyway, he says 'a three times three is a risky wager indeed!' I said that already, but there's a reason for that. You know, if you bet the same thing three times in a row, there's an old superstition that you'll always lose on your third time, but this Gambler, he wasn't swayed by any superstition, so he just says 'that's my wager, and I'm standing by it.' So the dealer lifts the cup, and sure enough, plain as anything, three moons are facing upwards. The eladrin stands up, pushes his chair back from the table, and says 'the dice are yours by your right, and they are parted from me duly. Good day, and good luck.' And he walks out. Nobody ever sees him again. Nobody sees him leave, like as soon as he walks through the door, he's gone. Course it was in Arkash and nobody sees anything in Arkash, at least not without the jingle of gold in their ears, so that's not really all that remarkable. A lot of people, they like to play up the mystery there in that part, like ooooh he was a ghost or something, but I've seen plenty of ghosts, and this doesn't sound like a ghost.
"Anyway that's just the beginning of the story. I could probably talk your ear off all day about this legend, s' popular with the kids and all (course some people add in lots of moral lessons like 'don't gamble' or more dubious ones like 'don't gamble with eladrin' or some such) but anyway, long story short is Gambler finds out that he got a lot more than what he bargained for. He'd only use these dice, you know, for special occasions. They were nice, you don't just sit out in the dusty street and roll ivory dice inlaid with gold and silver, but whatever, you know what I mean. But he came to realize that, not only did winning or losing with the dice seem to bring him bigger wins or losses, but the effect seemed to last for days. And now like I said, he was no superstitious man, but when weird things happen often enough, you start to think like something weird is going on. When he won with the dice, it was like he couldn't lose. He'd have streaks for days where everything he played, he played well. When he lost, he lost everything. Got to a point where the streaks scared 'im so much he all went up and almost quit gambling altogether. Didn't like the ramifications. Occasionally he'd try to offer the dice up as a prize, just like the eladrin did, to try to get rid of them. But he'd always win. No matter what he bet, the dice were always in his favor any time he tried to get rid of them. Started to think they were a curse, never used them. Gambling lost its flavor for him, these dice weighing down on him, never knowing whether they were actually cursed or magical or anything like that, or whether he was just getting old, and eventually he just up and disappeared, they found the dice on his table, four moons staring up at the ceiling, like he was there one minute and gone the next. Nobody ever saw him again, nobody claimed the dice as their rightful property, eventually the shopkeeper in town said he'd put 'em up for sale, use the money to pay for a gravestone (they just assumed if he wasn't coming back, he was probably dead), and that's where the story leaves off. Nobody knows what happened to the dice after they sold, but they say there's a plain gravestone standing in Arkash today, no name on it, just standing there like it's proof that someone was there. Where'd you say those turned up, again?"
The Gambler's Dice can be represented, in the real world, with a set of 4 FUDGE dice. The plus side represents the sun, the minus side represents the moon. The mechanics otherwise are exactly the same, each sun cancels each moon, and any left over beyond that denotes a winner. The large majority of games will result in a draw, and it is customary among most gamblers to either raise or withdraw their bets during these instances. Canicerre can be played in-game at any time, for gambling purposes or for a quick-and-dirty method of divination (will the immediate future be favorable or unfavorable? by what degree?). It is only with the Gambler's Dice that things get "dicey." Beyond their use as a gambling tool, they can also be used to influence fate. At any time, as a standard action, as a daily power, in or out of combat, the player in possession of the Gambler's Dice may roll the dice as long as there is a reasonable surface upon which to do so. The character does not need to be able to see the results of the dice, and the effect generated begins instantaneously. It is up to the GM to determine the effect of the outcome, but it should be in line with the overall "score" achieved by the roll. In other words, a roll that evens out to zero will probably not have any effect at all, +1 might make an attack that otherwise might have just missed hit, +2 might save the player from a status effect or an environmental mishap, +3 might drastically alter the strength of an opponent or the treasure encountered, and +4 will likely be some extremely unlikely, massive, and potentially game-changing event, like a god suddenly taking direct interest in the character and personally guiding their hand. Conversely, -1 might make the character's next action fail, or prevent them from achieving a critical hit on a natural 20, or something of the like, and so on. A -4 result will be catastrophic for the character. They may be pulled into a demiplane of suffering, they may be struck down where they stand by a freak accident, but the outcome should not only be dire for the character, but for the entire party. This result should also result in the dice being "lost" and unrecoverable by the party.
The Gambler's Dice are not an "evil" item, but they are chaotic in their function. It is unclear whether the dice were invented to be magical, or with any sort of magical purpose in mind, or whether they "developed" on their own. They do not function like an artifact; they do not possess any degree of "intelligence" and do not attempt to influence or direct their possessor's behavior. But nor are they a "good" item, for they do not always act in their holder's favor, letting instead the dice fall where they may, and then influence the world around them accordingly. Primarily any effect is negated every time the dice are re-rolled, but the dice roll has no effect one way or the other if attempted more than once in 24 hours. Otherwise, the effect will subside in 1d4 days, waning in influence over time. As a static magic item, they grant the possessor +1 Streetwise (or, for Pathfinder, Knowledge [local]) and -1 Diplomacy as long as they are somewhere in the vicinity of the person. For the purpose of this mechanic their "owner" is defined as the person who last touched them with their bare hands, although if that person should travel any appreciable distance away from the dice (such as leave town), "ownership" passes to any character who is nearest or currently in possession.
Beyond this, the significance, importance, and back story for the dice are entirely up to the Game Master, and entirely dependent upon their own campaign to let the mystery of the dice develop further (or not). Perhaps one of the PCs will decide to roll the dice when they are first found absentmindedly. If this occurs make note of the results, and have their influence (if any) be felt, but be unclear about whether it is the dice that are influencing how things have suddenly turned, or something else about where they are or what they are doing, then reveal it when they learn what the dice are.
The dice themselves should be presented, at first, as simple treasure. They are made of a valuable material (ivory), appear to be very well made and of high quality, and two sides are inset with gold, and two sides are inset with silver. It would be assumed that a reasonable player would see the value in these, at least as loot to sell for gold or silver back in town. Likewise, the location they are found in should be relatively unremarkable; maybe they spill out of an old boot that is carelessly knocked over while one of the PCs is looking for something else. Maybe they are simply set atop a table within a cave that had been at some point previously been occupied but currently seems abandoned. However, the true value of the dice only becomes apparent once the PCs attempt to sell them. When presented to a shopkeeper, especially if asked what they are for, the following monologue might occur. Alternately, if one of the characters is particularly well versed in local history, they may know the following already:
"It's an old Alvastratian game, it's called Canicerre; it's simple. Let me show you. There are four dice, they each have these symbols on them, right? The sun represents a positive turn of fortune, the moon a negative; yeah the Alvastratians were sun worshippers, what do you want? You put all four dice in a cup, and you shake it around. You try to get one die to pop out; a lot of pros get up to some pretty fancy shaking to make it happen and land where they want it to. The rest of the dice stay in the cup, and you quick turn it over and smack it down on the table so they're under the cup, still covered. Everybody bets on whether the overall outcome will be positive or negative, and then the cup is lifted. Positive and negative sides cancel each other out, blank sides don't have an influence one way or the other. If the outcome is neutral, everyone gets their money back. If it's moons, all the people who betted suns lose their money. If it's suns, all the people who betted moons lose their money, get it? It's split up evenly from all the losers to all the winners, so if you're betting on an unpopular outcome, you stand to win more money than if you go with everyone else on it. If everyone bets one way and the result is the other, the person rolling the dice gets it all; it's the only way they can win since they can't ordinarily take bets, and it doesn't happen very often, but when it does, oh man, it can be a lot of money. There was a saying back in the old days in Alvastratia, 'rich as a roller.'
"But these dice, these are special. You probably don't know what you have here. See, there's a legend about these dice. They say that there was a guy, a gambler, who lived in the port of Arkash. Arkash was in Bael Turath, so tradition says that he was a Tiefling. Makes sense to me, since everybody knows that Canicerre is a Tiefling game anyway... At least they're the ones who are always playing it anywhere they go. Anyway, there was a gambler, nobody knows his name any more. I guess it's not important. And this guy, he gambled on everything. It was just sort of his nature. He said that if he had something, it was his to lose. If someone else had something, it was his to win. And he was always fair. If he lost, he lost graciously and moved on, never held any grudges, never carried any superstitions or excess baggage along with it. Winning and losing, that was the only thing that mattered. He wasn't even known, so the stories go, for being particularly daring with his bets, I guess he just liked to leave everything up to fate or something. I don't know.
"But one day, as the story goes, he met a traveller. Now, a lot of people say it was an eladrin, but I don't know if that's so much that it was really an eladrin or if they just want some sort of trickster figure and eladrin fit but anyway, doesn't matter. This traveller is in town for a few days, watches the Gambler gambling on everything, finally approaches him. He pulls out these ancient, ancient looking Canicerre dice, inset with gold and silver, obviously well-worn but still in great shape, and says "I'll play you for these; they have a value far beyond anything you will ever possibly know." The Gambler, he's impressed by the dice, they're good looking, but he doesn't buy the yarn about any 'immeasurable value.' But a game's a game, so they go in to it. They drop in to a gambling house, the traveler hands a dealer there the dice. See it used to be polite if you were in a new town to at least make the gesture like you're contributing to the local economy, you know, give the dealer a chance to win, yadda yadda. Anyway, the dealer drops them in the cup, and the eladrin (or whoever) gestures to the Gambler, and says 'your call.'
"The dealer swirls the cup, pops a die out, it's the sun facing. Nevertheless, the Gambler says 'favor only shines at night.' See, there are a lot of traditions with the game; some people just say positive or negative, some people say suns and moons, this guy gussied up his calls with a little poetry, guess he did it so often he had to keep it interesting. Whatever. The eladrin (whatever) says 'suns' to give the opposite bid. You know, it's polite if you're playing one-on-one to pick opposing bids, otherwise there's a lot of stalemates going on. Also it's usually smart to pick the facing symbol anyway because the odds are a little in favor of what's already showing. The dealer nods, lifts the cup. There are two moons and a sun. Stalemate. Since they're not playing for money, the dealer sweeps up the dice and drops them in the cup. One pops out, it's a sun again. Yet again, the Gambler says 'dark as night, never bright.' The eladrin nods, and replies 'the sun will forever shine.' The dealer nods, lifts the cup. Again, it's two moons and a sun. Once again, the dealer scoops up the dice, pours them into the cup, and swirls it around. He pops a die, it shows a blank face. The eladrin says 'ah, intriguing! Why don't we raise the wager? If I win, I make one request, which you must abide by for the rest of your days. If you win, I remain here in your service, until I am discharged by your command.' The Gambler says, 'no sir, we began this game over these dice, and these dice are what I'm playing for. If you want to make other wagers, we'll resolve this one first and then we'll talk.' The eladrin nods and raises his hand to gesture that the Gambler make his bet. The Gambler says 'three moons hang alone in the sky, never to meet, never to die.'
"See this is another thing I forgot to tell you about the game. Sometimes people will make a wager based on what the exact configuration of the dice will be, and then they can win more of the pot than usual, but they weren't playing this game. I guess he was just making that bet for poetic purposes, it wouldn't have had any effect on the game one way or the other, just that he had wagered on 'moons' instead of 'suns.' The eladrin says 'three times three is a risky wager indeed!' Do you see where some people might think that this character might have been an eladrin, by the way? Who talks like that but them? Well, I suppose halflings do, but nobody wants to listen to a story about a mysterious halfling. Anyway, he says 'a three times three is a risky wager indeed!' I said that already, but there's a reason for that. You know, if you bet the same thing three times in a row, there's an old superstition that you'll always lose on your third time, but this Gambler, he wasn't swayed by any superstition, so he just says 'that's my wager, and I'm standing by it.' So the dealer lifts the cup, and sure enough, plain as anything, three moons are facing upwards. The eladrin stands up, pushes his chair back from the table, and says 'the dice are yours by your right, and they are parted from me duly. Good day, and good luck.' And he walks out. Nobody ever sees him again. Nobody sees him leave, like as soon as he walks through the door, he's gone. Course it was in Arkash and nobody sees anything in Arkash, at least not without the jingle of gold in their ears, so that's not really all that remarkable. A lot of people, they like to play up the mystery there in that part, like ooooh he was a ghost or something, but I've seen plenty of ghosts, and this doesn't sound like a ghost.
"Anyway that's just the beginning of the story. I could probably talk your ear off all day about this legend, s' popular with the kids and all (course some people add in lots of moral lessons like 'don't gamble' or more dubious ones like 'don't gamble with eladrin' or some such) but anyway, long story short is Gambler finds out that he got a lot more than what he bargained for. He'd only use these dice, you know, for special occasions. They were nice, you don't just sit out in the dusty street and roll ivory dice inlaid with gold and silver, but whatever, you know what I mean. But he came to realize that, not only did winning or losing with the dice seem to bring him bigger wins or losses, but the effect seemed to last for days. And now like I said, he was no superstitious man, but when weird things happen often enough, you start to think like something weird is going on. When he won with the dice, it was like he couldn't lose. He'd have streaks for days where everything he played, he played well. When he lost, he lost everything. Got to a point where the streaks scared 'im so much he all went up and almost quit gambling altogether. Didn't like the ramifications. Occasionally he'd try to offer the dice up as a prize, just like the eladrin did, to try to get rid of them. But he'd always win. No matter what he bet, the dice were always in his favor any time he tried to get rid of them. Started to think they were a curse, never used them. Gambling lost its flavor for him, these dice weighing down on him, never knowing whether they were actually cursed or magical or anything like that, or whether he was just getting old, and eventually he just up and disappeared, they found the dice on his table, four moons staring up at the ceiling, like he was there one minute and gone the next. Nobody ever saw him again, nobody claimed the dice as their rightful property, eventually the shopkeeper in town said he'd put 'em up for sale, use the money to pay for a gravestone (they just assumed if he wasn't coming back, he was probably dead), and that's where the story leaves off. Nobody knows what happened to the dice after they sold, but they say there's a plain gravestone standing in Arkash today, no name on it, just standing there like it's proof that someone was there. Where'd you say those turned up, again?"
The Gambler's Dice can be represented, in the real world, with a set of 4 FUDGE dice. The plus side represents the sun, the minus side represents the moon. The mechanics otherwise are exactly the same, each sun cancels each moon, and any left over beyond that denotes a winner. The large majority of games will result in a draw, and it is customary among most gamblers to either raise or withdraw their bets during these instances. Canicerre can be played in-game at any time, for gambling purposes or for a quick-and-dirty method of divination (will the immediate future be favorable or unfavorable? by what degree?). It is only with the Gambler's Dice that things get "dicey." Beyond their use as a gambling tool, they can also be used to influence fate. At any time, as a standard action, as a daily power, in or out of combat, the player in possession of the Gambler's Dice may roll the dice as long as there is a reasonable surface upon which to do so. The character does not need to be able to see the results of the dice, and the effect generated begins instantaneously. It is up to the GM to determine the effect of the outcome, but it should be in line with the overall "score" achieved by the roll. In other words, a roll that evens out to zero will probably not have any effect at all, +1 might make an attack that otherwise might have just missed hit, +2 might save the player from a status effect or an environmental mishap, +3 might drastically alter the strength of an opponent or the treasure encountered, and +4 will likely be some extremely unlikely, massive, and potentially game-changing event, like a god suddenly taking direct interest in the character and personally guiding their hand. Conversely, -1 might make the character's next action fail, or prevent them from achieving a critical hit on a natural 20, or something of the like, and so on. A -4 result will be catastrophic for the character. They may be pulled into a demiplane of suffering, they may be struck down where they stand by a freak accident, but the outcome should not only be dire for the character, but for the entire party. This result should also result in the dice being "lost" and unrecoverable by the party.
The Gambler's Dice are not an "evil" item, but they are chaotic in their function. It is unclear whether the dice were invented to be magical, or with any sort of magical purpose in mind, or whether they "developed" on their own. They do not function like an artifact; they do not possess any degree of "intelligence" and do not attempt to influence or direct their possessor's behavior. But nor are they a "good" item, for they do not always act in their holder's favor, letting instead the dice fall where they may, and then influence the world around them accordingly. Primarily any effect is negated every time the dice are re-rolled, but the dice roll has no effect one way or the other if attempted more than once in 24 hours. Otherwise, the effect will subside in 1d4 days, waning in influence over time. As a static magic item, they grant the possessor +1 Streetwise (or, for Pathfinder, Knowledge [local]) and -1 Diplomacy as long as they are somewhere in the vicinity of the person. For the purpose of this mechanic their "owner" is defined as the person who last touched them with their bare hands, although if that person should travel any appreciable distance away from the dice (such as leave town), "ownership" passes to any character who is nearest or currently in possession.
Beyond this, the significance, importance, and back story for the dice are entirely up to the Game Master, and entirely dependent upon their own campaign to let the mystery of the dice develop further (or not). Perhaps one of the PCs will decide to roll the dice when they are first found absentmindedly. If this occurs make note of the results, and have their influence (if any) be felt, but be unclear about whether it is the dice that are influencing how things have suddenly turned, or something else about where they are or what they are doing, then reveal it when they learn what the dice are.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Got Loot Blogfest: Wichtrift, a unique item for Dungeons and Dragons, 4th edition
The setting was that they had been sucked into a pocket dimension within the Shadowfell, which had been created by an ancient Shadar Kai sorcerer-king, as a side effect of his mad attempts to establish and maintain control over his domain, which had been beset by demons. Once the players hit Paragon level they would have been able to find out who he was, why he was under attack, and who was ultimately behind all of it, but the campaign fell apart. He was the last of a now forgotten dynasty, when the Shadar Kai were still a relatively young race and not yet as given to decadence and excess as they are now; his fall, in my game, was one of the events that quickened their transformation into what they are. The two symbols of his dynasty were a magic orb and a silver misericorde.
The magic orb, despite being very beautiful and expertly crafted, was not all that powerful (it was essentially just a +1 orb with a +1d6 crit bonus), but the misericorde was the special item. It was called Wichtrift, and was created by the sorcerer-king's ancestor, the founder of the dynasty. It was crafted so keen and with such care, that it could slice through spirit-stuff as if it were solid flesh. Paradoxically, it would pass through solid flesh as if it were insubstantial. The kings of this dynasty were cruel, and increasingly insane, and they would use the knife to split the escaping spirits from those whom they had slain, and then magically bind them back together into increasingly grotesque abominations, and enslave them to do their bidding. The dagger was therefore extremely powerful, but also stained by a hideously violent and atrocious past. I wanted possession of it to create a moral quandary for the players, and for it to even cause expressions of fear from the ghosts who inhabited the place since they had been created by it and knew its power. The cruellest irony of it all would have been that the king, who had entombed himself, still living, at the bottom of this structure, would have been vulnerable to the weapon. I also wanted to give the players the opportunity to use the dagger for good, so at one point they encounter a "friendly ghost" who only wants to be freed from his place, where he had been eternally bound, and they would be able to use the dagger to do that. If they'd have held on to the dagger or the orb, by around level 12 or 13 when I had planned them going into the Shadowfell for the first time, those items could have become very powerful bargaining chips with some of the major powers in Gloomwrought and abroad; even if they didn't know exactly what they were, they would have been able to tell that they had originated in the realm, and were very ancient.
I wanted the knife to be based in an unusual stat so that it wouldn't be obvious how it dealt damage, and would also be easily wielded by even a character who was not usually martial by nature. Given its creation from and capacity for evil acts, charisma seemed a good fit. Despite this, it still deals radiant damage, however this radiance does not originate from faith in the divine, but sadistic cruelty of character. Other than that, attack rolls are resolved as normal, as if it were any other knife. I marked it as level 4, but only because that's what level the party was when they would encounter it. Based on what it does, probably 5 or 6 would have been a better fit, but given that its intrinsic power does not increase over levels, it doesn't really much matter. The name originates in Old Germanic and Old English and I take it to mean "soul-divider," a reference to its ability to slice spirit asunder.
Saturday, October 29, 2011
The Horror in Holyoke: A Savage Worlds one-shot Halloween adventure
A group of friends are invited to a killer Halloween party at their friend Jared's house. His parents are out of town, they've taken his little sister with them, and he lives out in the middle of nowhere, so there are not really any neighbors to complain. Only, very quickly into the night, Jared is nowhere to be found. And what is that orange glow, growing on the horizon?
pdf, 9 pages, hosted at mediafire.com: Download Link.
Does not include pre-generated character sheets.
pdf, 9 pages, hosted at mediafire.com: Download Link.
Does not include pre-generated character sheets.
The Village Above the Sea -- A 2nd level Dungeons and Dragons, 4th edition, adventure for 3-4 characters
What begins as an end-of-summer sojourn in a seaside town ends up being far more sinister. The PCs discover a terrifying secret that threatens the entire village, but can they find the source and stop the threat from getting far more out of control?
pdf, 22 pages, hosted at mediafire.com: Download link.
An entry for Jeff Dougan's blogging carnival, On a Night in the Lonesome October.
pdf, 22 pages, hosted at mediafire.com: Download link.
An entry for Jeff Dougan's blogging carnival, On a Night in the Lonesome October.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Winter Is Coming- New Monster [D&D 4e] The Iceshard Skeleton
This is a second entry in response to T.W. Wombat's Winter Is Coming RPG Blog Festival.
The Arnerian Empire once stretched across thousands of miles in the furthest north, but now resides only in legend. Before their slow and steady invasion of their more southerly neighbors, it was assumed that nobody, and nothing, could survive in the impossibly high and hostile mountains known, aptly, as the Roof of the World. Tales of the brutality and unforgiving nature of the Arnerian Empire have been passed down from generation to generation and survived, even when descriptions of their people and their cities have been lost to the ages. Nothing, however, stands out as much in the imagination as the strange and terrible tales of the dark magic that the Arnerians were said to control. It is said that even the gods feared the powers that were under the Arnerians’ command; that their powers came directly from those beings from outside the gods’ domains, from the strange and terrible beings that occupy what we now call the Far Realm.
The secrets of the corrupt magic dreamed up by the Sages of the Arnerian Empire have been lost, many would say thankfully, forever, but their legacy in their creations remains. The most fearsome and terrible of their ranks were their Frost Giant slaves, magically bound to guard their lands, and tortured until death if they refused to obey or became derelict in their duties. But the torture for the Arnerian Frost Giants did not end at death: the Arnerian Sages had the flesh stripped from the giants’ bones, and then reanimated them in a state of undeath so they could continue to serve even beyond the length of their own lives. Any mind or spirit left from the Frost Giants were irrevocably lost; the giant skeletal forms did not recognize kin or kind, only the need to kill instilled in them by their masters, and the will to obey even the most terrible of commands. With the Arnerian Empire destroyed and lost beneath the shifting snow, the skeletal giants continue in their duties, directionless, without an empire to protect or commands to fulfill. Usually, the presence of one or more of these monsters is the only indication that there ever could have been a citadel or tower amidst the wastes, sometimes standing without moving for hundreds of years.
At first, the Frost Giants of the Verdenstak Mountains made war upon the abominations. Directly succeeding the downfall of the Arnerians, the giants sought revenge for their enslavement, laying waste to their wasted cities and trying to destroy everything that they had created. However, it became soon evident that wherever the skeletal monsters were felled, they seemed to eventually rise back from the rubble, and then even the giants began to shun the accursed lands. Now nothing walks among the peaks and passes at the Roof of the World, abandoned even by those who would wish to call these lands home. All the time, the silent, unmoving, unthinking guardians of the carcass of the Arnerian Empire remain, ready to confront any who dare trespass in their forgotten lands.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Winter Is Coming- New Monster [Shadowrun 4e] The Golo-Golo
This is an entry in response to T. W. Wombat's Winter Is Coming RPG Blog Festival.
The Golo-Golo is a creature with no accepted taxonomy, which has only been documented within the last twenty or so years, though as with anything, there are sketchy reports of sightings from before that time. The name is a bastardization of a pidgin Russian name, Golodnaya Gololed, hungry hoarfrost; a reference to the only time the creatures seem to be prevalent, which is on the heels of a particularly cold weather front. It has not been observed where they go when temperatures warm, because they are never found when the temperature on the ground is above freezing. It is thought that they have some degree of burrowing ability, or some other means by which to sink underground and keep their bodies cooled. Not surprisingly, it has been found that they have a particular weakness to heat or fire, and that is the primary means by which they are repelled.
The creatures themselves resemble a large, meter- to two meter-wide whitish-gray pancake, with no discernible orifices, sensory organs, or appendages on their dorsal side. Their skin is rough, similar to shark skin, but much more pliable (and remarkably resistant to puncture). However, caution should be taken when handling them, because their skin excretes a small amount of a venom which has a powerfully narcotic, soporific effect.
On their ventral sides, they have a complicated series of mouth-like organs which excrete digestive enzymes and also reabsorb the resultant digestive slurry. All around the edge of the animals are curved, venom-containing hooks, which the animal can either rapidly flip into an upward-facing direction, or else seem to involuntarily flip up if sufficient pressure is applied to any part of the dorsal side of the animal. The result is that if the animal is stepped on, the hooks flip up and pierce the ankle of the offender, and deliver a powerful dose of its venom. Within seconds, the victim begins to become dizzy, sluggish, and weakened, finally collapsing on the ground, usually only steps away from the animal. It then uses a rhythmic contraction of its muscles to slowly propel itself over top of the victim, where it will engulf them and begin excreting digestive enzymes from its many mouthparts. Since it continually exudes its soporific venom from its skin, the victim will usually not awaken while it is being consumed alive, and, ultimately, there is little that remains. It should also be noted that the venom seems to be remarkably volatile, readily soaking through layers of clothing and being absorbed into the skin, but also not remaining in the material for more than twenty or thirty minutes before dissipating.
The creatures do not appear to have any sort of eyes, but do exhibit a small degree of thermal sensing in addition to what seems to be their primary sense of detecting vibrations in the earth. Additionally, their ventral sides seem to have thicker skin, and more ability to resist heat than their dorsal sides, evidently a mechanism by which to resist the body heat of their prey while they are feeding. The animals seem to have no capacity to right themselves if turned upside-down, nor any ability to move whatsoever. A strange observed ability is that they seem to be able to move themselves through thick snow much more quickly than they can simply by wiggling across the ground. It is not certain whether this is merely observers’ bias, or if it is actually an innate ability by the creatures.
The most unique aspect of these creatures is their paranormal abilities. While they do appear to be dual-natured (this is debated), they do not seem to have any ability or desire to astrally hunt. They do, however, appear to have a marked ability to compel victims which approach within a 30 meter or so diameter to move directly towards them. The area of their psychic affect seems directly connected to their size, with larger creatures being able to influence victims from farther away. This psychic influence does not seem limited entirely to compulsion, either, as many people have nearly trod upon the creatures without noticing them, before being pulled away by a more observant (or less readily affected) companion. This effect seems to function in the astral plane, where they are frequently overlooked amidst the other astral noise of the area. Finally, it has been observed that there might be a correlation between frequency of blizzards and number of Golo-Golos in the area, indicating that they might have some sort of limited ability to influence the weather, based on some as-yet unobserved psychic link between the animals.
Transporting the creatures has proven to be an extraordinarily difficult endeavor, as well as creating an environment for them in which they can survive for more than a few hours, drastically limiting the ability for study in controlled environments. Nevertheless, some very enterprising (and resource-laden) individuals have captured the animals and created enclosed environments for them as curiosities.
Note: both the Dual-Natured power and the weather control powers are optional, based on how the creature is intended to be used.
Average Size
B A R S C I L W Edge Ess M Init IP
4 1 4 2 4 2 0 3 2 6 4 7 1
Large Size
B A R S C I L W Edge Ess M Init IP
5 1 4 3 5 3 0 4 3 6 5 8 1
Movement: 2 / 5 (through thick snow)
Skills: Infiltration (5), Perception (4), Unarmed Combat (4)
Powers: Compulsion (Paranormal; Movement only), Concealment (Paranormal), (Dual Natured,) Enhanced Senses (Vibration), Hardened Armor (2/4), Immune (Cold), Magical Guard (3), Natural Weapon (digestive enzyme: DV 4P, AP 0, acid damage), Venom (Soporific; see below), [Weather Control (Blizzard)]
Weaknesses: Reduced Senses (Blind), Vulnerability (Heat, Fire)
Soporific Toxin:
Vector: Contact
Speed: Immediate
Penetration: -2
Power: 10
Effect: Disorientation, Stun Damage
Penetration is negated by a sufficiently high rated environment suit (such as the Mitsuhama EE Suit, AR55) which protects against environmental toxins. Effect is immediate, often within 20 seconds or less, with delirium and disorientation taking effect before unconsciousness. Stun damage from this poison does not carry over into physical damage.
The Golo-Golo is a creature with no accepted taxonomy, which has only been documented within the last twenty or so years, though as with anything, there are sketchy reports of sightings from before that time. The name is a bastardization of a pidgin Russian name, Golodnaya Gololed, hungry hoarfrost; a reference to the only time the creatures seem to be prevalent, which is on the heels of a particularly cold weather front. It has not been observed where they go when temperatures warm, because they are never found when the temperature on the ground is above freezing. It is thought that they have some degree of burrowing ability, or some other means by which to sink underground and keep their bodies cooled. Not surprisingly, it has been found that they have a particular weakness to heat or fire, and that is the primary means by which they are repelled.
The creatures themselves resemble a large, meter- to two meter-wide whitish-gray pancake, with no discernible orifices, sensory organs, or appendages on their dorsal side. Their skin is rough, similar to shark skin, but much more pliable (and remarkably resistant to puncture). However, caution should be taken when handling them, because their skin excretes a small amount of a venom which has a powerfully narcotic, soporific effect.
On their ventral sides, they have a complicated series of mouth-like organs which excrete digestive enzymes and also reabsorb the resultant digestive slurry. All around the edge of the animals are curved, venom-containing hooks, which the animal can either rapidly flip into an upward-facing direction, or else seem to involuntarily flip up if sufficient pressure is applied to any part of the dorsal side of the animal. The result is that if the animal is stepped on, the hooks flip up and pierce the ankle of the offender, and deliver a powerful dose of its venom. Within seconds, the victim begins to become dizzy, sluggish, and weakened, finally collapsing on the ground, usually only steps away from the animal. It then uses a rhythmic contraction of its muscles to slowly propel itself over top of the victim, where it will engulf them and begin excreting digestive enzymes from its many mouthparts. Since it continually exudes its soporific venom from its skin, the victim will usually not awaken while it is being consumed alive, and, ultimately, there is little that remains. It should also be noted that the venom seems to be remarkably volatile, readily soaking through layers of clothing and being absorbed into the skin, but also not remaining in the material for more than twenty or thirty minutes before dissipating.
The creatures do not appear to have any sort of eyes, but do exhibit a small degree of thermal sensing in addition to what seems to be their primary sense of detecting vibrations in the earth. Additionally, their ventral sides seem to have thicker skin, and more ability to resist heat than their dorsal sides, evidently a mechanism by which to resist the body heat of their prey while they are feeding. The animals seem to have no capacity to right themselves if turned upside-down, nor any ability to move whatsoever. A strange observed ability is that they seem to be able to move themselves through thick snow much more quickly than they can simply by wiggling across the ground. It is not certain whether this is merely observers’ bias, or if it is actually an innate ability by the creatures.
The most unique aspect of these creatures is their paranormal abilities. While they do appear to be dual-natured (this is debated), they do not seem to have any ability or desire to astrally hunt. They do, however, appear to have a marked ability to compel victims which approach within a 30 meter or so diameter to move directly towards them. The area of their psychic affect seems directly connected to their size, with larger creatures being able to influence victims from farther away. This psychic influence does not seem limited entirely to compulsion, either, as many people have nearly trod upon the creatures without noticing them, before being pulled away by a more observant (or less readily affected) companion. This effect seems to function in the astral plane, where they are frequently overlooked amidst the other astral noise of the area. Finally, it has been observed that there might be a correlation between frequency of blizzards and number of Golo-Golos in the area, indicating that they might have some sort of limited ability to influence the weather, based on some as-yet unobserved psychic link between the animals.
Transporting the creatures has proven to be an extraordinarily difficult endeavor, as well as creating an environment for them in which they can survive for more than a few hours, drastically limiting the ability for study in controlled environments. Nevertheless, some very enterprising (and resource-laden) individuals have captured the animals and created enclosed environments for them as curiosities.
Note: both the Dual-Natured power and the weather control powers are optional, based on how the creature is intended to be used.
Average Size
B A R S C I L W Edge Ess M Init IP
4 1 4 2 4 2 0 3 2 6 4 7 1
Large Size
B A R S C I L W Edge Ess M Init IP
5 1 4 3 5 3 0 4 3 6 5 8 1
Movement: 2 / 5 (through thick snow)
Skills: Infiltration (5), Perception (4), Unarmed Combat (4)
Powers: Compulsion (Paranormal; Movement only), Concealment (Paranormal), (Dual Natured,) Enhanced Senses (Vibration), Hardened Armor (2/4), Immune (Cold), Magical Guard (3), Natural Weapon (digestive enzyme: DV 4P, AP 0, acid damage), Venom (Soporific; see below), [Weather Control (Blizzard)]
Weaknesses: Reduced Senses (Blind), Vulnerability (Heat, Fire)
Soporific Toxin:
Vector: Contact
Speed: Immediate
Penetration: -2
Power: 10
Effect: Disorientation, Stun Damage
Penetration is negated by a sufficiently high rated environment suit (such as the Mitsuhama EE Suit, AR55) which protects against environmental toxins. Effect is immediate, often within 20 seconds or less, with delirium and disorientation taking effect before unconsciousness. Stun damage from this poison does not carry over into physical damage.
Friday, June 3, 2011
The Arrostekomistes
The Arrostekomistes (Ar-roast-ay-koh-mist-ees) are (believed to be) an order of itinerant physicians, not yet very well known in this part of the world. Where they originally hail from, however, they are very respected and feared. Their true name, if they have one, is unknown, as "Arrostekomistes" was likely, at some point, derogatory. In line with that, their common names do usually follow the format of "weakness walkers" or "illness-bearers"; a reflection of their vocation. It is said that they carry with them vials containing every disease, illness, and malady known, and some that are not known, and make it their mission to assist people afraid of disease by inoculating them with less severe or virulent forms of those diseases so as to prevent them from contracting the more deadly form later in life. They only offer this service to willing patients, and always move on as soon as they are no longer wanted.
Their appearance is as shrouded in mystery as their origins. They are never seen without their cloaks, masks, and gloves, as these are the chief identifiers of their station. The masks are akin to those of crooked-beaked birds, cast in silver, with strange carvings all over them. Their gloves appear to be the finest in dark calfskin leather, almost vanishingly thin, but never tearing, and upon their left index finger they wear a silver ring, shaped like a bird's talon, and just as sharp. Over their mask, they wear an oilskin cowl, and over their cowl, they wear a heavy oilskin cloak. IF any member of the Arrostekomistes would be seen outside of their uniform, they would not be recognizable; therefore, no member of the Arrostekomistes has ever been seen, only the uniform they wear.
The Arrostekomistes seem to abide by a philosophy of "a little harm now prevents a later calamity." They do not seem to have any ability at all to heal diseases once they have attacked, and have no interest in being around the diseased. Therefore it is unclear whether they themselves have already been inoculated against all of the diseases in their bandoliers, or whether they do their job, and move along as fast as possible in order to avoid infection, utilizing their masks and gloves as ways to further protect themselves.
The method itself is straightforward: The plague-bearer picks a vial from his wide bandolier, the disease to be inoculated against, and very deftly and carefully pries the silver lid open just enough to fit the tip of his ring down into it, to rub against the small lump of something that is inside. Then, he grabs the patient's arm, and scratches small five parallel lines into it, just barely enough to draw blood. The result looks much like a cat scratch, though the lines are unnaturally uniform. As soon as the scratch is complete, he stands up, and walks away. Arrostekomistes accept no payment, do not bargain, speak very little, and do not linger. They have also never been observed eating or sleeping, though they obviously have to do those eventually.
In their own lands, Arrostekomistes are treated as bogeymen among children: a visit from the Arrostekomistes is a fearful and potentially deadly thing, yet many parents still take the risk in order to prevent greater harm from coming to their children. Young children are never inoculated, only once they reach a certain age. It does not matter if they are human, elven, dwarven, or even dragonborn, orcs, or tieflings. Anything that can contract a disease, the Arrostekomistes can try to help. To have the scar from the inoculation has subsequently become a rite of passage among children in some places: it means you have survived the infection, and become stronger.
Inevitably there have been those who have harassed and manhandled members of the Arrostekomistes, but they do not usually live for long; usually coming down with all manner of strange diseases. It is as if the Arrostekomistes are able to create a deadly aura of pestilence around themselves when they are at risk, since none have ever been reported murdered or seriously injured, only the aggressors. Furthermore, those who would attack one of their order are shunned, and their families shunned, and their family's families shunned. Some doors they will pass by no matter what sort of payment is offered them. Nobody has known any of their order to lash out or to make someone sick who wasn't deserving, but the mystery and silence about them is so complete that one wonders whether one would ever know if they had.
[Spoilers] It is a secret fact that many of the older Arrostekomistes are actually undead, continuing to perform their duties even beyond the grave. Members of their order go through many magical rites where they cut all ties to their families, their countries, and their identities, and become one of the order irrevocably and permanently. Many will still grow old, feeble, and infirm as normal people do, but some are changed in unexpected ways. Instead of growing older, they grow stranger: slowly the life disappears from them, yet they continue on their missions, traveling from land to land, administering their inoculations, sometimes for hundreds of years. When it is time to retire, they return to the secret base of the order, where they are magically put to rest.
They have in fact been rendered immune to most diseases and most poisons, and necrotic or weakening attacks do not affect them. Their oilskin uniforms are slightly resistant to fire (resist 5) but repeated attacks will eliminate that resistance. The magic that binds them to the order also gives them certain exceptional abilities, such as resistance to sleep (they don't ever sleep) and inability to be dazed, blinded, or stunned. Additionally, they give off an aura 1 Miasma of Pestillence, which will be outlined in a later stat block.
If one is actually killed, its body will begin to decay immediately, crumbling into powder and poisoning the ground around it. Anyone nearby will be very likely to contract a serious disease. If it manages to escape, other members of its order will avoid contact as much as possible, and towns where they are staying will not be visited by Arrostekomistes. Likewise, if one is killed and its accoutrements are taken, others will quickly find out about the crime and regard the party suspiciously. Those who mistrust and fear the Arrostekomistes, however, will be very interested in any information about them that can be shared.
Most Arrostekomistes are within low- to mid-Paragon level, but very old undead members can easily rise into low Epic level.
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