Dark Crystal TV Show

Edit: I have changed my mind drastically about this show. I plan on writing a follow-up sometime soon, but after watching the rest of episode 1, I watched the remainder of the series in 1 day. I found it to be excellent.

I tried watching the Dark Crystal tv series. I made it about 25% through the 1st ep. and shut it off. I was surprised to then see huge amounts of critical praise for it .

- The whole background of the world is changed. I suppose it's possible that some kind of 'reveal' would have the tv show background turn out to be some kind of ruse by the skeksis, but I doubt it. The revised history of who the skeksis are is not nearly as interesting, and is just dumb, right off the top. "They're from space!" takes a high concept and turns it into a cheap low-ball.

- The population of the gelflings is segregated into a cheesy 'X number of cities, each with it's own bluntly simplistic character' system, like a video game or a 2000s YA novel. Another hack device.

- One of the last scenes I watched was a fly-through shot of some kind of library or scriptorium. A great deal of screen time was lavished on this space that felt like the set decorators got started on it, but didn't have time to finish. Comparing it with similar classic Henson spaces, it feels positively empty. There was also no point to the very long fly-through, except showing off the created space. This felt very unlike classic Henson and the Dark Crystal, where the awesome environments were there in support of what was going on, rather than being the point in themselves.

- The very last scene I watched was this same sort of thing again. Scene of characters talking about leaving one location and why they were going to a different location. Extended shot of them leaving, showing off creature movement, but nothing else going on. Same, from another angle. Same, from another angle. Same, from another angle. I get you worked really hard on these things, but that does not mean you give them screen time compared to how much time you spent making them. You give them screen time appropriate to the story and what you're getting across. A fail.

Sigh.

My KotOR Characters. Of Course.

I'm experiencing some pretty serious DnD burnout.

I love spending time with my friends, and I love the fantastic worlds that I get to visit. A majority of my problem, I think, is the long-running basic assumption that DnD characters are largely greedy self-serving bastards. Having this as a core premise has always been a downer for me. Even though it can be amusing from time to time, the constant exposure to this paradigm has, I think, really worn me down.

I remember trying to play Dark Side in KotOR for a while, and it didn't last long at all. I laughed a couple times, but got bored with it quickly. It made the game dreary and unfun for me.

I tried to play Renegade Shepard in Mass Effect 2. Again, a few laughs. When the crew had concerns about spacing Grunt if he went crazy, and Shepard just shrugged and grinned after making a point about having extra crewmembers, I thought it was hilarious. But I stopped playing that save and went back to my paragon version soon after. I didn't like Bad Shep, and didn't care what happened to him. Playing him felt like a tedious chore.

I tried playing a Skyrim character who broke laws, went to jail, killed innocuous bystanders, etc. Same result. Lame. Quit playing that one before level 15. When my son was playing and decided to get turned into a vampire and eat people at Vampire Castle, I tried to keep watching, but lost all interest.

I know all these examples are from video games, and involve me trying to play 'the bad guy' rather than being enmired in their midst, but I guess my point is it's just not in me. It's not fun for me. Rather than getting any emotional relief from parodying or lampooning assholes by being an asshole, I get my relief by smashing the assholes. I'm kind of afraid that this means I'm simple or naive, but I can’t deny that it all adds up to me beginning to experience my chosen hobby as another source of depression rather than a refuge from it.

The Ultimate Heresy

Bastardising Tolkien

Now, I love both The Hobbit and The Lord of The Rings. The Hobbit, as is popularly stated, makes for a great DnD setting. However, Rings doesn't. The reasons are many, but mostly it's because you either need to pick some point far back in history, or some point after the whole thing. If you pick a point in time during the book, you end up as some minor player on the edge of Important but Precarious Events. If the DM doesn't railroad you, you really end up railroading yourself, one way or another. It's all good for an MMO (I enjoy that game) but sucks for DnD. Oh, and picking a point after the book? There's not much excitement there, since the overarching ultimate pervasive goal of the entire trilogy is to remove the violent dramatic excitement. See, that's a bad setup goal for DnD. You don't want your goal to be Make Things Boring.

So now what? Time to fiddle about. For my purposes, the trilogy is related by Samwise. He is a well-meaning, sentimental, unreliable narrator. He is pretty upset that his best friend died in what turned out to be a boondoggle. Instead of being bitter, he writes a view of what he wishes happened.

The Changes So Far:

Gandalf was a mid-level magic-user, not a divine being. When he bit it in Moria, that was it for him.

Aragorn wasn't really a prince.

Boromir didn't have a noble change of heart at the last second. The Ring was too strong for that.

Throwing the ring into the lava didn't do shit.

Faramir fried in a fire.

My Take on Sigil

Planescape continues to interest me, and if you look far enough you can get there from Castle Nicodemus.

My Sigil is a place of wonder and amazement. My Sigil is a place of disillusionment and horror. You will not find priests and priestesses there energised and fresh from afternoon tea with their deity. You may, however, find clerics who seem to stare blankly through you, and who never say a word.

There is no vast wilderness where a hexcrawl will eventually take you from Asgard to Olympus to Gahenna. There is no miles-high spire of rock with a spinning cheerio at the top. There is, though, a great and ancient archway which holds a door of iron 101 cubits high, and which bears the words "Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate."

In fact, you will never see the 'outside' of Sigil's massive toroid. Assuming an outside even exists, in it you would find yourself outside reality, and it would shred your mind.

Sigil is not the true name of the city. This moniker refers to the symbol which stands for, or perhaps spells its true name. Only one individual in all the multiverse knows the word for which this glyph stands, and to speak it is to grasp the fate of the City of Doors. This is The Lady of Pain.

My GM Questionnaire

I am filling out my GM questionnaire. I did not use number 2 pencil.

1. If you had to pick a single invention in a game you were most proud of what would it be?
This is kind of a tough one, right off the bat, because I'm thinking back through all my games since 1988. The ones earlier.. didn't invent much. I suppose it would be the giant mega-roomscalator from hell. Sort of like an escalator, but made of small rooms that tilt and climb. You end up going through a door each time a room stops tilting, to go into the next room. Each time you open a door, a new monster is waiting there for you. That's where Hannibal contracted tiger-lycanthropy.

2. When was the last time you GMed?
Monday night, 16 January, 2012. My players were Zak Smith, Jason Kielbasa, Roger Burgess and Cameron McGowan.

3. When was the last time you played?
Last night, 17 January, 2012. I played in Chris Kutalik's Hill Cantons.

4. Give us a one-sentence pitch for an adventure you haven't run but would like to.
Planescape's Sigil is Oliver Twist's London, with Oliver Reed from 1968, and the players have to find and recover an artifact in the city before the band of thieves do it.

5. What do you do while you wait for players to do things?
They wait for me more than I wait for them. This is known as a Bad Thing. When I do wait for them, I cook up funky turns for them.

6. What, if anything, do you eat while you play?
I always used to eat Igor's Piroshkis with extra cheese on top. They stopped making them, and all you can get now are those damn little hot pocket abominations. Thus, I no longer eat while gamemastering.

7. Do you find GMing physically exhausting?
Unfortunately, I find everything physically exhausting, since I have fibromyalgia. GMing actually helps me forget the pain for a while, which is pretty damn sweet.

8. What was the last interesting (to you, anyway) thing you remember a PC you were running doing?
Father Jack, upon realising the party was being charged by two Nehwonian Ghuls inside a golden Melnibonean war barge, grabbed two big fluffy satin pillows and threw them at the ghuls' feet in an attempt to trip them. Party fumbles ensued.

9. Do your players take your serious setting and make it unserious? Vice versa? Neither?
So far, players have injected precisely the right balance of jocularity. One slip and it's off with your heads.

10. What do you do with goblins?
Personally, I roast them slowly while basting with a mix of hearty yet piquant spices. In my games, it is more varied. So far in my OD&D Greyhawk game they all wear red caps, dyed in human blood. Some of them look like Pathfinder goblins, and some others they've met look like Labyrinth goblins. Minus David Bowie and The Codpiece of Doom. They are cheery and dumb, and have proven rather amusing to talk with. They tend to have Stoogesque arguments among themselves. In my Castle Nicodemus game so far, they look like the goblins from the Rankin/Bass Hobbit. Only a statue of one, or perhaps a victim of petrifaction, has been found as yet.

11. What was the last non-RPG thing you saw that you converted into game material (background, setting, trap, etc.)?
I can't say the last thing, because that would be telling. Previous things = 60s TV show The Prisoner, The King of Elfland's Daughter by Dunsany, Cher.

12. What's the funniest table moment you can remember right now?
A new player (character named Jack) joined the party by seeing members of the group appear out of nothing as they exited a Mordenkainen's Magnificent Mansion. He maintained they were demons. One of the party (character named Tom) embarked on a 20 minute debate, roleplaying in character, trying to convince Jack that, in fact, he, Jack himself was the demon. By the time Tom was done, Jack pretty much believed he was actually a demon, and had sworn an oath to Tom on a dagger made out of spinal column.

13. What was the last game book you looked at--aside from things you referenced in a game--why were you looking at it?
Planescape - The Planewalker's Handbook. I was reading it just because it's interesting.

14. Who's your idea of the perfect RPG illustrator?
I can't decide between Simon Bisley and Rodney Matthews.

15. Does your game ever make your players genuinely afraid?
It has before, back in my face-to-face days. It was very rewarding.

16. What was the best time you ever had running an adventure you didn't write? (If ever)
I ran Dyson's Goblin Gulch in my Labyrinth Lord Eberron game. Excellent.

17. What would be the ideal physical set up to run a game in?
Big round table, easy to control lighting for spookability, computer handy for music, sounds, visual aids, and references like Wikipedia.

18. If you had to think of the two most disparate games or game products that you like what would they be?
1st Ed. AD&D and The Window.

19. If you had to think of the most disparate influences overall on your game, what would they be?
Coop's Devil Girls and The Wind in The Willows.

20. As a GM, what kind of player do you want at your table?
Someone intelligent with a good sense of humor.

21. What's a real life experience you've translated into game terms?
Exploring in the woods.

22. Is there an RPG product that you wish existed but doesn't?
Not really. Many I want are out of print, however.

23. Is there anyone you know who you talk about RPGs with who doesn't play? How do those conversations go?
My wife. She's interested in what I have to say, and sometimes gives me ideas, but remains adamant that it's "not her thing."


Thanks Zak, for getting me motivated to at least write something this morning.

How to Scare Your Players

Because, after all, it really is pointless to try to scare the characters.

It’s a natural function of the human mind to want to understand and classify what it experiences. When a person is unable to do this, they begin to experience anxiety. This, my dear dungeon master, is your goal tonight.

A good example of this is the first Phantasm movie. Perhaps I should say ‘my recollection of the first Phantasm movie,’ because I haven’t seen it in a really long time. During the movie there are a ton of things you don’t know:
What are the silver balls, besides deadly?
What the heck ARE those little short dudes?
Why are they killing people?
What do they want with the bodies?
I found the movie really frightening, probably more frightening than Ringu or Juon, and it had ZERO to do with blood. Probably one of the most frightening I’d ever seen. Compare that with one of the later entries in the series, wherein they explain very fully exactly what the little jawa looking dudes are, where they’re from, and why they want to kill people. It was no longer frightening at all. Not in the least.

My players once encountered a vampire. Like any good vampire, he had a personality and didn’t just pop into a dungeon somewhere. They visited him after being warned not to, because he had information they desperately wanted. I showed them a picture of Emile Zola sitting at his desk. He was charming and helpful, but also very odd. They knew something was up, and they were well on the way to convincing themselves he was a vampire by the time hints started getting laid down during the dinner to which he invited them. They were looking for signs. They had already noticed (because one of them specifically asked, not due to observation roll) there were no mirrors in the parts of the house they’d seen so far. They tried to see his reflection in the silverware, but damned if the candlelight and things on the table prevented them from getting a clear look.

This is when you poke a hole in their attempt to classify and understand.

“Is the silverware actually silver?”
me - “You’re pretty sure it is.”
“Is he touching it? A vampire couldn’t touch it, could he?”
me - “The tales you remember say that silver is very harmful to vampires.” Notice I didn’t say ‘All the tales you’ve heard.’ Introduce as much self-doubt as possible.
[more conversation about the McGuffin, while they stew over clues]
me - “He picks up his spoon and chimes his wine glass with it a couple times. The crystal rings out with a beautiful clear note.”
“A silver spoon?!”
me - “It looks just like yours.”

During dinner, the host (even the players have become reluctant to call him The Vampire now) never quite manages to take a bite of the food or a drink of the wine, due to conversation. At one point he even has food on his fork, but puts it down to talk. Yes, I answer, the food does indeed taste like it might have garlic in it.

The underlying systems have to be clear-cut and well defined. Explained and classified. It’s very important that you know exactly what things are, and why they’re that way. It then becomes your job to always keep this information just out of reach, just barely behind the veil, no matter how much you’d like to share it. Get your players to the point where they are absolutely brimming with questions, and then respond to them.. without answering any of them. At least not for sure, and certainly not a simple yes or no.

Then you hide the source of the anxiety. The master retires for the evening. The device sinks into the wall, and it seals up like it was never there. The children go around a corner and vanish. The wizard disappears in a puff of smoke. After the players have a chance to discuss and explore a bit, it’s now time for some incongruent meaningless hints. Odd noises, strange smells, an odd powder or fluid on the wall/floor/ceiling.. things that might mean anything. To you they should make perfect sense.. to the players they should be vague enough to further a dozen different suspicions without confirming any of them. Repeat until their anxiety peaks, then just after it starts to go down a bit.. HIT EM. The vampire attacks, the portal opens, the spawn of Shub-Niggurath pours out of the spear holes.

The most important thing to remember is that you will be tempted, and that you, the DM, must resist this temptation. You will know all the superawesomeneato details of who the professor is, how the dark ones open the door, and why the madman constructed the box.. but no matter how cool it is, or how proud you are of it, you can’t tell! Shhh!

Happy Halloween, and good luck!

Amazing Powers of The Mind

I was never satisfied with the system called psionics in 1st edition AD&D. It seemed like two semi-related systems cobbled together. Of course, much later I discovered that's exactly what it was. When psionics showed up in Eldritch Wizardry, the 3rd supplement to OD&D, it was originally intended to be the basis of Steve Marsh's mystic, plus the Psi Attacks of some other un-named class. No wonder.

I (sadly) don't have Carcosa. I like ChicagoWiz's psionics ideas, but I'd like something more expanded as well, maybe for someone dedicated to it, or just for more options with a wild-talent-type character. Thus, I think I'm going to try to figure some out on my own..

I'm going to use this post at TV Tropes as a starting point. I think it's a great place to start.

So When Do We Get To See The Grumpy Part?

It's been awhile, so I figured it was about time :)


Why are some so offended by members of the osr wanting to make a buck from what they do? I think that's a ridiculous and childish attitude. Some people give away some of their efforts for free, but to expect everyone to do so just because you don't think it's 'up to par' or because it means you don't get your free treat, or because they could have been doing something you find worthwhile instead of wasting their time on what they wanted to do is foolish.

News flash - the world is not your cookie.

"Why did they decide to charge for Palace of the Vampire Queen? And for Tsojconth too?! Man, what rampant avarice! And good money for little mimeograph sheets folded in half and stapled together?! You must be kidding, that's not even a real book!" - Bah! Humbug even! You speak with the tongue of a spoiled child. And he wants it back. Plus, you don't know where that thing's been.

We don't get to decide which songs Jimi Hendrix put on vinyl. We don't get to decide what George Lucas put on film. We don't get to decide what other people in the osr write. We don't get to decide what Justin Bieber sings.. and frankly, I think that's a much more dire situation right there. But I will always stand up and help make fun of those who think they should have some say in other peoples' creativity. Plus, dude, you really don't want to be that guy complaining about midichlorians on the internet. Seriously. :)

I love you guys! (offers his beer)

Yet Another Campaign

I'm running two play-by-post message board campaigns, and playing in two more. However, I'm still finding myself wanting more to do. Maybe.

I've got two ideas for things I'd like to explore:

1. Eberron using OD&D or Moldvay rules (including something like Labyrinth Lord.)
2. Tekumel using OD&D or Moldvay rules (including something like Labyrinth Lord.)

If either of these sounds like something you'd be interested in playing, please let me know in the comments. If enough would like to sign up, I already have a message board of my own set up for the purpose of PbP games. With either option, I would most likely start out with one of the in-setting starting level modules, from there spreading out into an open format.

Uh-Ohhh, It's Ma-gic

I never assume that there's only one way to cast spells in a setting. I know it would be more convenient if I did, and allowing multiple methods of magic might conceivably unbalance or 'mess up' the campaign in some way, but in my experience it's never done that. The main thing it's done is help remove the mundane from the magical.

I firmly believe that magic in any work of fiction, including an rpg, will always suffer if it's well known and understood. Quantification is the bane of imagination. There will always be those who clamor for all the mysteries to be revealed, however. For those, I offer... midichlorians.

I think Lucas was acutely aware of what he was doing. In Star Wars IV, Luke finally went to Ben and said he was ready to start learning. The next thing we see is some unspecified time after that. A certain segment of the viewers cried out in dismay. "I want to know what they did!" "I want to see what he taught him!" "I want to be a Jedi and learn the ways of the Force!" Well.. you can't learn the ways of the Force. It doesn't really work. It's made up. And the only thing you would have gotten if we had seen what Ben showed Luke is concrete confirmation of that extremely immersion-wrecking, mystique-busting fact. The clamoring never stopped, only getting louder and more pervasive. Then, I really believe Lucas set his jaw and said "fine! You want concrete? Then let me prove my point to you! Kazaaang! Midichlorians!" And I think the quantifiers got exactly what they deserved.

So, here we have the extremely well quantified and detailed magic system of DnD, particularly in 1st edition Advanced D&D and afterward. It's quantified for a reason, since it's part of a rules system. However, contrary to the proclivities of some, this concretism isn't self-justifying. Introducing the idea to players that more than just the one magic system they already know may exist and work pulls the rug out from under familiarity and stagnation, while at the same time leaving the foundation of reliability inherent to their current, well-delineated system. It kills midichlorians!

Players in my campaigns still start with whatever basic, default magic-use system is present in the setting. After some experience, they gradually learn there are other functioning systems out there. They may have started with Vancian or an elementary spell point system, but then the wider world of possibility opens. True-name magic ala Earthsea. Lovecraftian tomes that any can attempt to use, but at a terrible price. Spellsingers. Deal-making spirit binders. Leyline weaving. Artifact channeling. Rune-casting. The only real limits are the bounds of your literacy.

The trick then, of course, is to introduce it in a subtle way. The PC's actual first exposure might be dramatic indeed, but it needs to be handled in a way which won't lead to watering it down through proliferation within the campaign. For it to mean anything, it has to stay incredibly uncommon, weird, even alien. A wizard in the party may indeed be able to learn some of the fundamentals, even mastering a spell or two. However, there are two keys to this. One: it's going to take a long time, or exact a heavy toll. It took them years to finally become a lowly first level wizard in the first place, and this certainly isn't going to come to them overnight. If time isn't an appropriate commodity, then something else will have to give. Anyone can pick up the Book of Eibon and try their best to copy the formulae, but they're certainly not going to pass through that experience unscathed. Gold doesn't count as a heavy toll, either. This is the realm of insanities and permanently lost ability score points. Two: there usually needs to be a willing teacher. The wizards on Roke Island aren't going to trust just anyone, either.

So far in my own campaigns, the far more common occurrence isn't actually learning the new system of magic itself. Rather, they have picked up a few of the side-tricks these other, strange dweomercrafters use. This includes things like how to enchant valuable gems as spell storage receptacles (an idea from Mythus.) The main upshot of all these considerations is simply this. Don't wreck your campaign, but take away a bit of the certainty and banality from something that's supposed to be 'magical.'

Thanks!
The Troll

You Find a Magic Compass!

Blog ideas I'm currently juggling:

1. Keep track of the security words I enter when posting to blogs. Invent a campaign element based on each.
2. Highlights of my long-running milieu-prime campaign.
3. Random lists in the spirit of the tables in the back of the 1e DMG.
4. Installments of musings over the things that evoke DnD for me, such as the film Spectre.
5. Quirky setting ideas which could serve as experiments, but that I would actually love to do, like OD&D Eberron.
6. House rule ideas for various games, mostly DnD.
7. New takes on old settings, or "you got your Cthulhu in my Greyhawk!"

Sound stupid? Sound interesting? Help me juggle if you want :)

Why Can't I Get Better at That?

I think for a lot of players of the latest editions of "The World's Most Popular RolePlaying Game" (that cracks me up every time I read it) one of the big draws of the new system is skill progression. Sure, there's some sort of progression in most games of the type, regardless of edition, but this is advancement explicit to a specific, identifiable action. If all the combat tricks (for example) you try are just rolled into a big globular minute of summable action, then of course those tricks are all getting better as you go up in level. For a lot of players though, they want explicit quantification of this neat thing they can do.

Now, I have a lot of ideas about why they want that, and also about why they feel they're not getting the satisfaction they want from attempting to Do Things. For the time being, though, I'm going to wave past that. Instead, I'm going to propose what in some cases might prove to be a band-aid, or in some cases might actually end up adding a fun extra to the festivities. I think the best way to impart this might be an example:

Bernaise: Can I try to shield rush this guy in these crusty old rules from the 80s?

Troll: 70s..

Bernaise: Whatever man, I want to charge little-doghead-boy and Knock Him Down baby!

Troll: Sure, you can try practically anything. Just make a regular attack roll.

Bernaise: But what if I've practiced shield rushing things? What if I'm like.. Mr. Shield Rush?

Troll: Well, you haven't yet, so go ahead and give it a try. I think it would be stretching believability quite a bit to think medieval-style training would specialize to that fine a degree, but everything starts somewhere :)

Bernaise: If I do it all the time, is there any way I can get better at it?

Troll: A +1 bonus for anything is a pretty big deal in this game. A longsword does 1d6 damage, but that enormous zweihander does 1d6+1. And that little-doghead-boy has even less hit points than that.

Bernaise: It doesn't make any sense though, that if I'm constantly trying to trip people or shield rush them or jump over pits that I'd never get any better at it.

Troll: It does if your guy doesn't have any ability in that.. as I recall, you practiced and practiced and practiced to learn how to sing, and you still sound like sh..

Bernaise: Yeah, yeah, I know... but my character is a fighter, and this is a fighting thing.

Troll. Okay.. make your regular roll to hit. Every time you try to shield rush, whether it's a success or not, YOU make a checkmark or something, and keep track of it. Then let me know what the total is the next time you make a level.

Bernaise: Sweet!!! I'm successfully limiting my options to excel in an easily expressed specialty!! Woot!!

And there was much rejoicing. I think it can be seen to make a moderate amount of sense, and it shouldn't terribly unbalance anything. I think I'd probably do something like subtract his strength from 100 and want to see that many attempts at level-up time to give him a +1 shield rush, or some other effect, maybe a stunned opponent, a morale check or execute a 10 foot withdrawal, or various other possibilities.

Granted, I'd rather handle these things on the fly. I think they work better that way, and then both the DM and the Player can come up with something unique that really fits each specific situation. Of course, that means the DM has to take on the responsibility of making each fight or trap or parley a unique and specific situation, even just in how it's described. I think if a player is still having trouble expressing on-the-spot detail, but they do want to try, this can be a pretty harmless semi-solution. It's still completely specialised, and case-by-case, which I like.

Let me know if you can think of similar things a character might try learning, and how you might go about deciding whether they've learned it or not.

The Troll

He's Modulating! Help Him!!

The other day I mentioned my interest in exploring some of the classic old-school modules for D&D. When I first started playing, or DM'ing rather, we dove right into B2, Keep on the Borderlands. Between a myriad of activities, roleplaying and adventures at the Keep itself, plus our explorations of the Caves of Chaos, it took us a really long time to exhaust B2's possibilities. In fact, if I remember right, the group never did actually finish exploring the cave complex, instead heading off to explore other things in the world.

After we had been playing for a while, there was definitely a desire from other players to have a chance at being the DM. One of my friends picked up a copy of Palace of the Silver Princess, so our little group headed off across the map to where that was. We didn't even consider rolling up all new characters for his game, since we had characters for the game. He had asked me some advice so that he could tie back into something that had happened in the Keep, so we talked over a little connecting thread. Unfortunately, I had forgotten about it, and combined with his ingenious way of introducing it, I totally didn't see it coming. The result? I blurted out the answer as soon as I 'figured it out,' only to realise I'd just given away everything he'd asked me to keep quiet. Smooth.

When I got back into rpg's near the end of the 80s, the group I started playing with was of the decided opinion that although modules might have their place, a real DM wrote his own material. I and others ran several separate groups, all populated by the same pool of friends. For one of my groups, I pulled out my old copy of B2 again, but entirely re-designed it. Kobold tunnels criss-crossed and went up and down in levels. High tunnels ran into low tunnels, with Indy-style mining bridges spanning the gaps. Populations of monsters skyrocketed. The gradual dell now towered canyon walls over the party's heads. And, of course, they got through even less of it than my old group.

Thus, my experience with modules was severely limited. No Slavelords were brought to justice. No giant chiefs were steaded. No green demon heads were fed with hapless henchmen. And we actually felt good about it too. Pssh! Modules.. bah! Those were for DM's who couldn't come up with adventures on their own! The only thing was.. I was curious.

Sure, it had started with included modules. That couldn't be helped.. they came as part of a package. But then I started buying a few.. not many, just a couple. I just wanted to read them. Just for a few ideas, that was all. Once I started though, I couldn't get enough. Soon, I had to have them all! With no internet, it was no easy task to figure out a complete list of every TSR module, let alone 3rd party adventures. But I had to read them, from cover to cover, fondly imagining running the adventure and all the twists and turns it might take, but never daring to actually present them to my group in play. They could never understand!

-> This is the interesting part <-

So what was it about modules that held such a fascination for me? I didn't realise until years later that reading a set of rules laid out by someone doesn't give nearly the view into their imagination that playing one of their adventures does. Whether its Gygax, Moldvay, or anyone else, the rules they've written can start to show you a bit about how they think, how they organise, but only by playing the modules they've done can you really meet the writer.

In trying to get back to the old ways, this is why playing the classic modules is even more important than which set of rules one uses. It's more than just taking a further step into nostalgia (I see nothing wrong with nostalgia, by the way,) it's getting into the true essence of these writers' imaginations. The stage and the theatre can be a wonderful place, but it's the script and the performance that really make the most difference.

Now when I think about what I really want to do in my game, one of the biggest things is to experience all the old classic modules. Not only did I miss the chance to play them until now, depriving my own sense of curiosity and completeness, but I also believe that an experience with the OSR isn't really complete without them. In much the same way, I know that to really enjoy Jim Raggi or any of the other designers of the current era, I can't just use their rules system. I really need to play their adventures.

What Accession, Pandelume?

The first thing we house-ruled in our Moldvay Basic game back in 1981 was wizard magic. None of us had read Vance, and the otherwise excellent Moldvay book was singularly reticent in providing a convincing argument for use'n'lose spellcasting. Thus, our initial attempts were overwrought and forgettable. Forgettable because.. well, I can't remember what we did.

Years later, I read The Dying Earth. I finally got the magic system. Not only did I get it, it was cool. It was intriguing. I could not only see why Gary had used it, but actually agreed with him.

So why tweak it? I'm a tweaker, it's what I do. The spells used by Turjan are arguably more powerful (iirc) than those available to the players of the Moldvay game, or any version in the earlier levels. It stands to reason that more powerful spells could easily have this effect on the mind, but should they all? Light? Magic Missile? Actually, I think that can be perfectly acceptable (as long as the DM provides appropriate accompanying flavour,) but the fact remains that the beginning wizard is severely limited in his options when compared to his comrades.

Although this can often be worked round when playing in-person, it's particularly a problem when running a game over a message board. A single day, to examine just one factor, can last upwards of a month in real-world time.

Thus, on the third week of play, along with the induction of the other week-three house-rules I detailed yesterday, I put up the following:

As of today, all magic-users may employ cantrips. These are minor magical effects, usable without recording any related formulae within the spellbooks of the thaumaturge. Neither do they take up any specific space within the mind of the mage.

Cantrips are not so much specific spells, but rather a general minor magic, which effect is determined at the time of use. The effect may cause damage, but no more than 1d2. It may also cause the recipient to make an ability check or saving throw to avoid some inconvenience, such as dropping a held item or tripping. Any attempt to affect the items or clothing of a target, such as igniting a flammable material in the possession of another, will also allow the victim a saving throw vs. spell to entirely negate the effect.

In most cases, no more than 5 pounds of weight can be moved, and generally only to a maximum distance of 10 feet. It can affect a flat area of 10 square feet or less, or a volume no more than a cube 1 foot per side. Most effects will last no longer than an hour, with some lasting only 1 turn. However, extremely minor effects, such as a subtle change in colour, might last indefinitely, as would the removal of dust, grime or dirt from an object or individual.

Cantrips may be used only once per round, and then only if enacting the magic is the only action taken. Sustained effects, such as floating a small object, may be maintained as long as the magic-user can continue concentration.

The variety and nature of the effect is limited only by the imagination of the employing wizard.

We'll see in the coming weeks whether this will cause any problems, and I'm including in that any sense of an alteration in the tone I'm trying to shoot for with the game.

That 70s Game

Around the middle of August of this year, I began something that can also be seen as an experiment. I say 'also' because the main purpose isn't experimentation or simulation. It's also not just an exercise in nostalgia. The overarching purpose is simply having a good time. However, it's a wonderfully nostalgic and experimental good time that simulates the journey of Dungeon's & Dragons through the 1970s.

The basic premise was to begin playing a game using only the 3 original Little Brown Booklets first published in February of '74. The first supplement, deceptively (to later enthusiasts) entitled Greyhawk, was first published 13 months later. Therefore, the additional material from this booklet will be incorporated (perhaps not in toto) 13 weeks after the beginning of play. The remaining supplements would come in at the same rate, with weeks between adoption standing for months between publication.

However, the LBBs weren't used in a vacuum. Modification and addition were not only encouraged, but actually required to cover all the strange and unusual things players thought of doing. Improvisation during a game to deal with some unforeseen contingency led very naturally to precedents that a group would continue to site in similar situations. A lot like British Law, from what I understand, interestingly enough. To simulate the proliferation of these house rules, the plan was to begin gradually introducing accretions from Whitebox. Why not just our own house rules? It's a game run via message board on a website, so it's nice to be able to have a concrete, objective, individually accessible reference. Plus, there's information about it on the web, so it's wonderful to be able to just stick a link in a post instead of trying to refer to some past idiosyncratic ruling.

A few days ago, three weeks into the campaign, our first few accretions accrued:

• The Whitebox attack matrices, for determining hits. (these may be identical to the LBB.. I honestly didn't look)
• The Whitebox rules for turning undead.
• The slightly variable damage values for different weapons.

I should say also that even before the first pixels had a chance to dry on the page, a handful of house rules popped up like mushrooms after a nice rain. I'm certain these aren't unique to our little game, but I'd never thought about them in precisely the way I did, or came up with precisely the results we did this time. This intrigues me no end, because I've been making house rules for D&D for 29 years. D&D is evidently an incredibly unique experience, which never occurs the same way twice. I've even heard it's a big-time nerd thing, but I've honestly never experienced that.. anyway...

Here are the little mushrooms that popped up. Some of them can be traced directly to Philotomy's, which I internally picture as a wonderfully ancient and dusty little bookstore, with an appropriately ancient and dusty little wizard wandering around inside.

• Wielding a weapon in each hand gives the sole benefit of adding +1 to your attack role. Pure Philotomy's genius.
• Helmets are conspicuous only in their absence, as per Philotomy's.
• A wizard's first spell book has all 8 first level spells in it.
• A pint flask of oil will burn for 6 hours in a normal lantern. Real modern lamp oil will burn for about 36 hours per pint, but it also won't make goblin flambé.
• You have to make an attack roll to hit a prone foe.
• You can try things like a shield rush in combat, just use a regular attack roll and we'll decide what happens based on how you describe what you try.
• The most substantial house rule to date, the addition of wizard's cantrips.. worthy of it's own post, probably tomorrow.

It seems to be going really well so far, and my hopes are high for more unique and interesting developments. I've also incorporated my desire to (in my case) experience some of the most classic and iconic modules, but I'll discuss that in a later post.

The Troll