Delvers in Dàrkmesa - Campaign Rules 2.0

First post in over a year, and it is an updated version of the ruleset I posted as my magnum opus in February of 2019.

I can't say precisely what drives me to forever re-write these rules, though part of it is certainly a lack of play. This is a problem I hope to amend soon, if only virtually. Given that my play group has spread itself over much of the state now, that would appear to be our only viable option even without Covid-19 running amok.

Despite the dearth of play, I have, in the past year and change, had ample time to contemplate what makes a robust and flexible ruleset. I have not been posting my ideas here, mostly for lack of time or motivation, but I also find some guiding priciple in what Stephen King has said on several occassions about writing notebooks and journals, "They're a great way to immortalize bad ideas."

Now that these ideas have stewed for a while, I feel imbued with just enough confidence to put them on here.

Some of the things you may find interesting in these new rules:

• No ability modifiers. I want treasure that provides bonuses to be the most important modifier.
• Two "defenses" cover everything: Armor Class, and 4th Edition-style "save-on-10+" d20 rolls.
• The most available healing has a kind of "cap" mediated by a 4th Edition-style "bloodied" status.
• Four classes available, one per "pillar" of fantasy dungeoneering: Outlanders (wilderness travel), Sages (literacy and healing), Thieves (getting into places you aren't supposed to be), and Warriors (killin' sh*t). No race-classes so that the rules don't require changes if elves, dwarves, or halflings aren't featured in your game.
• The rules don't include a rigid magic system. Rather, they provide examples of how to make magic self-limiting. GM discretion is paramount. Sages can be the de facto "magic user" if that is a player's aim.
• Monsters have very simple stats, and are not meant to be "balanced" for groups of any particular level or size. Like spells and magic, example monsters are provided in a wandering monster table.
• 1d6 weapon damage. 1 damage for unarmed strikes or hits with torches. 2d6 (or 2) for critical hits.

Gehenna & Harrowheim - Session 2

Session 2 begins right outside the open gate of the Hammersted brewery, where the party peers in to see an armless corpse smeared with shit hanging behind the doors by a foot. Niobi's panther, Frida, begins to get wild eyes at the smell of goblins (and goblin excrement) in the air, and the party decides to kick in the door and take the fort by force.

A battle ensues where the majority of the party holds off several waves of goblins using the gate as a choke point, while a couple other PCs sneak around the back and discover a group of dwarves locked in the privy on the second floor of the main distilling building.

The dwarves are certainly happy to be free (and drinking) again, but their boss, Grant, is a rather prickly personality, and the party decide they'd rather sleep off their wounds and take a shipment of liquor back to the Stone's Throw than work out any further deal, especially after grant requests that the party train some of his new recruits in the martial arts...but doesn't offer any payment in exchange.

The party go to sleep, and that's where we end it for the night.

In retrospect, the battle took pretty much exactly as long as I had hoped, but the way that the party used the gate as a choke caught me off guard. The goblins were obviously not meant to be a tactical force, but I had designed the encounter and the goblin's layout within the brewery to encourage a stealth mission. The way I had envisioned it playing out was that they would take out 4-8 goblins without alerting any, and then some failed stealth or goblins that survive to take an action would alert the rest. Then, the party would have to take a defensive position while 12-16 other goblins charged their position.

Also in retrospect, I didn't like how little loot I had prepped for these goblins. I know there is a $2k reward once they get back to the tavern, but the end of the battle fell a little flat compared to the cool gem they were able to take from the golem last session.

I also wonder about Grant, the dwarf NPC and how "unlikeable" I made him. I definitely have his personality down, but the PCs didn't seem to want to engage him at all. His other dwarf employees: Talcum (the young, shy one), Mondr (the big silent type), Skol (the raspy-voiced intelligent one), and the new twins for security Herod and Kivki, didn't really get any screen time.

The plan is to have Grant slip the party some goodies before they leave to sweeten the deal and try to get on their good side a little. Also, the consequences of not training Herod and Kivki will probably come up a while later.

Gehenna & Harrowheim - Session 0

This series is going to be a very simple log of a 5e homebrew campaign that I am now running on Fridays. I don't have much time to write these, so they will be summaries and highlights.

This is the setting pitch for the campaign:

The world has no name, but the destruction of the world has a name, and it is Gehenna. This is what the people call the ever spreading desert at the center of the large continent. The marching sands bring with them demons and dark magics that have minds of their own. As civilization has retreated, treasures, gold, and magics from another age were lost or abandoned, buried in now sunken ruins and caverns that await visits by curious adventurers.

Harrowheim is an ancient stronghold in eastern Gehenna. Where it stands was once a wooded cliff, lorded over by a vampire that had sewn powerful wards into the walls and grounds. Now, a hostile desert surrounds the oasis of dark wood and stone, but fails to penetrate the old dweomers of the place. As Gehenna has pushed past the fortress, the unfinished road from Harrowheim to the coast has gradually fallen into disrepair. What once was a guarded thoroughfare is becoming a highway of terrors, and frequent monster attacks, particularly at night, keep travelers at bay. Harrowheim houses a syndicate of worldly elves (drow) of varied aims, and abbutting the fortress is a shantytown of restless refugees. The political situation is... tenuous, to say the least.

The coast to the east, the Fertile Coast, hangs on to the luxuries of the past. Things are much the same as they were years ago, before the desert began to engulf the world. But every place on the continent dances on the edge of a knife, and on the coast that knife is fought over by two powers.

One force descending upon the coast are the waves of refugees fleeing from the desert. What might otherwise be just a large nuisance to local lords has marshalled into an insurgency. A group calling themselves the Black Flame Zealots has emerged from the refugees and recruited starving young men and women into their ranks. Wearing the image of the infamous black phoenix, the zealots have assassinated prominent figures on the Fertile Coast, burned down government buildings and stoked revolutionary ideas in the major cities.

Sorcerer Kings are rising among civilized lands that have become desperate to keep the Zealots at bay. These beings run the gamut of morality, but they are all willing to crush rebellion and treason with an iron fist and burn the will of the insurgents to ash with arcane fire.

Meanwhile, the old gods are being abandoned daily as the world becomes a husk, and a new faith, the Burning Erudition, is taking root among refugees and settled peoples alike. The cults of this new religion are varied and fractured, but prominent figures are beginning to emerge and seize power.

Adventurers who stray deep into the woods and swamps of the world may find themselves stumbling into the Fae, a place and a peoples of singular purpose: to toy with outsiders and belittle their mortal machinations. The faces of the Fae can range from benevolent elves to the murderous Wild Hunt.

Stretching vast around the other planes of existence is the Astral Sea, a mythical starfield that houses whole continents suspended in its aether. Only great civilizations have achieved the magic necessary to send their peoples into the astral plane. Some, such as the high elves (eladrin), used it as a new home. Others, like the giants, use it as a cosmic prison for the worst of their kind.

And we haven’t even mentioned the Spirit World or the Underdark...

Session 0

After character creation, we begin in a tavern called The Stone's Throw, a few leagues out from the edge of the spreading desert. It is run by a human man names Grouse, and his half-drow half-human daughter Minna.

Already in the tavern were two player characters: Calphire, a halfling wild sorcerer with hair like blown glass, and somewhere else in the tavern Niobi, a half-elf ranger (homebrew version of the class that I'll post some time) and her panther companion Frida.

The first of the players to enter the tavern after play had started was Derek, a dwarf druid. He came in, asked for a glass, cast create water into it, and started to drink. The bartender asked him for some money for renting the glass, and Derek promptly threw the water into Grouse's face and walks out. He runs into Hob, the Goblin merchant sleeping in a barrel outside, but doesn't buy any of his magic wares. He goes to sleep in the stables.

Next in was Navo, a half-elf arcane archer who uses daggers instead of a bow and arrow. He tried chatting up the ranger and her panther pet, but was unsuccessful.

The last PC is delayed because his player can't make session 0.

Calphire goes over to the edge of the bar where various jobs are posted and finds one put there by the barkeep himself. His shipments of rare desert liquors from the Hammersted brewery stopped a month ago and he needs someone to go check out why. The brewery is further into the actual desert a few leagues. He's promising a fair amount of money. Calphire accepts, then goes to the two half-elves to talk teaming up for the job.

I end the session there, because we're already well past three hours due to character creation.

5 Goals Your NPC Organizations Shouldn't Have

There are three types of NPC groups in fantasy RPG worlds:

1. Groups the PCs can fight. Example: the cult of an evil demon lord.
2. Groups the PCs can receive service from. Example: a merchant guild.
3. Groups the PCs can join. Example: giant-slayer mercenaries. 

No DM has trouble with the first group. They are the easiest to think-up and use in the game.

The second group is easier than the first, in that their motivations need not be world-shaking or nuanced. They can just be a trading band, after all. But they are also more difficult than the first group, because it is much less natural to roleplay a merchant than an evil cultist, considering how scant merchants are in most fantasy novels and D&D plot-lines. It's very similar to writing: the mundane stuff is the hardest to make believable because you haven't ever given much though to it.

Where many D&D worlds fail, however, is with the third group. I'll give you some examples.

Black-Flame Zealots: If these aren't the coolest divine group ever, I don't know what is. They are Assassin's Creed meets ninja meets Nepalese holy-warrior. If there was a novel or video game about these guys, I'd buy it in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, they are a clandestine order of monks who work primarily out of city hideouts and only battle with the enemies of their god. They are like a thieves guild, but with more smiting and less casual sex.

How in the world do you DM a PC that is a member of this group? How do you convince the PC that going off to a random dungeon and looking for treasure is a reasonable quest given his profession? If an old lady says she has ROUSs in her basement, why on earth would a member of the BFZs offer to help her? Don't they have a dark god to keep at bay?

How about the Cavaliers? Mounted soldiers? Really? That's the kind of character you are going to play in this dungeon-crawling game? One who needs a horse at all times to have any fun?

The deeper you dig into all these supplemental classes and groups, the more you realize that over half of them cannot be played.

Sure, you can take the Purple Dragon Knight prestige class from 3.5's Complete Warrior, but take a look at their description, and the paragraph-long disclaimer about player-character members...

D&D 3.5, Complete Warrior, p. 70, Wizards of the Coast

In the end, a PC Purple Dragon Knight has no rank, no authority, no experience, no service record, no commitment to future service, nothing. They have nothing but an honorary title and a slew of class abilities that seemingly appear out of nowhere, given how little the PC actually has contact with their affiliate group...

These disclaimers are included because the designers know that players want the cool features and titles, but none of the responsibility. The PCs still plan to explore and search for treasure and kill monsters as their primary lifestyle, so being a full-time (or even reserve) member of some army is not on their to-do list.

And why should it be? This is Dungeons & Dragons, not Soldiers & Sergeants. If you want to play a medieval warfare simulator, play one. D&D is not that.

This is a reality that DMs and PCs need to accept: limit yourself so you can focus your game and do it well. Players don't need access to infinite character concepts to have fun, they need access to a handful of character concepts that fit the world and the tone the game is going for. DMs don't need infinite NPC groups from every walk of life, they need a couple dozen groups, the majority of which should be adventuring groups that PCs could easily join while still maintaining their normal day job.

There are a million reasons why an NPC group would be invested in dungeon-crawling and monster-slaying. I'll put a bunch into a blog post sometime. But until then, here are five goals your joinable NPC groups shouldn't have, because they create direct contradictions with the adventuring lifestyle:

1. Operate in a particular area, e.g. a specific city, forest, or even country.

If the PCs ever want to leave, either the PC members have to quit, get some sort of negotiated leave time, or create a convoluted reason for why it is relevant to the Elvish Defenders of Leafwood that Joe the Ranger go off into a desert and dig up some magic scrolls about turning lead into gold.... These groups are type one or type two: enemies or service providers.

2. Research a particular thing unrelated to dungeons, e.g. feywild specialists, divination experts, very specific monster-hunters, etc.

This shouldn't be confused with something like a weapon-specialist group. I'm talking about any group where actively adventuring would cut into their study time, rather than be study time. Sword masters-in-training can hone their skills anywhere, but students of Fey lore have nothing to learn while infiltrating the underground city of the Derro. These kind of academic groups are also type two.

3. Serve a particular (non-deity) leader or country, e.g. a king or empire.

Unless he is the king of dungeon exploration, I don't want to hear about any PCs being in the kingsguard.... These are type one and/or two.

4. Pursue sedentary or mundane professions, e.g. blacksmiting, fishing, etc.

You don't have time to smith while you are slaying dragons and stealing their treasure, so smiths don't do that stuff. They stay home and smith. If you are a smith, you aren't a PC. If you are a PC, you aren't a smith. No ifs, ands, or buts. Type two again.

5. Enact a modern moral or ethical sensibility.

I'm not saying every group should be made up of assholes, but if your PCs come across the Loving Sisters of Peaceful Coexistence, do NOT let them join. Peace and non-violence are for farmers, not adventurers. Sad but true. The players can agree with their message in spirit, but they have to realize that their entire lifestyle (i.e. the entire game) is premised on violence and stealing, whether it is against other sentient races, monstrous races, or just plain ol' monsters. Evil in D&D is real, and it is out to get you. Monsters exist, and they don't only attack when threatened by oil spills or aggressive human expansion. And since the monsters are evil, might as well take their stuff when their dead. Right? Peace can be an ideal in your world, but it cannot be the mainstream. This could be type one or two.

Now go make some NPC groups that love spelunking and looting. I'd join that shit...

Magic as Science vs. Magic as Sin

Source

Science is something we teach in school, though most science learned in school is science that was first done over a hundred year ago. Science is a profession, and states across the world fund sciences to maintain high qualities of life and military superiority. Science is something that happens in broad daylight, and you can point to it in the natural world.

The most exciting and (very rarely) dangerous science is done by geniuses in university laboratories or government locations. They act with the acknowledgement and approval of some governing body of officials or intellectuals, even if these experiments may be morally questionable to the public.

Source

These governing bodies also regulate how much of the scientific knowledge and know-how is accessible to the public at large, though often how dangerous an average joe can be with science is less about knowledge and more about acquiring expensive materials. Occasionally, unregulated rogue agents gain materials and make fatal uses of science, and the states and universities immediately move to prevent this kind of action in the future.

If your RPG magic is like science, then you can expect to find potions at your typical merchant's venue, and one or more of your PCs will probably have classical magic training in the form of a wizard college or monastic order. Practicing magic is not surprising, but practitioners of magic that are not part of the normal social structure are surprising and even cause for alarm. They may be hunted in the same way as those who intentionally use magic to cause destruction.

Source

Your RPG with a scientific magic system may also feature a subject within magic that is forbidden. Blood magic, necromancy, demonic pacts, etc. This kind of study is punishable in the strictest sense. Much of the information on these topics is either folklore, or contained in lost magical tomes that somehow escaped destruction. These arts are studied in dark dungeons and hidden temples that pose as organizations.

The taboo inherent with these forms of magic is always related to the sin involved with practicing them. Blood magic involves manipulating the human body as a resource. Necromancy does the same for dead bodies. Demon pacts are deals with evil entities, which will surely help the monster cause pain and suffering, at least to others.

Source

Now, remove the professional magic. That's an RPG with magic as sin.

All magic is done in secret, or in the open with impunity in the confidence that almost no one can stop the sorcerer unless they too plunge their hands in the muck. A mortal person using magic has the same effect as a villain in a movie that kills an innocent person, up close, without batting an eye.

Magic-use proves that the practitioner is willing to make morally abject choices to gain power and get ahead. It is sin in so far as it sells itself. No one has to be convinced as to the usefulness of magic. It draws practitioners in on its own undeniable results. Its pull is especially potent at the highest and lowest rungs of the social ladder, because those people are much more likely to be egomaniacal or desperate, respectively.

Source

And the sin is really in the details, too. It isn't just pouring the blood of the innocent on the pentagram before chanting your 'duras' and 'diras.' It's having your eyes and your teeth pop out of your head while becoming a werewolf, and then eating them once the transformation is complete. Excuse me, I have to go be violently ill because I've just witnessed something I definitely wasn't meant to see.

But the power...oooooh the power.

In a magic as sin game, the players must choose whether they are good, or powerful. Any path that rides the line has to be invented on the spot. The magic itself asks you to compromise your morals or deal with entities that you know are dangerous and deceitful. But your players will gladly risk their characters just to see how far the rabbit hole goes.

In a game with magic as sin, the details can't be written out, they have to be discovered. It's the foot-in-the-door technique. You already broke into this library's restricted section to sneak away with a black magic tome, why not try one of the spells out and drink the blood of a rabbit, just to see if you can really become the fastest man alive? And when that works, why not give the book to the crazy necromancer for the promised 1,000gp? He isn't gonna destroy your village, after all. And hey, why not sacrifice a whole city of people so you can be immortal, like it says on that page you accidentally ripped out of the book before you sold it? You've gone this far already, and besides, the necromancer is gonna turn them all into zombies in a month anyway...

Source

For my money, magic as sin is more provocative than magic as science. When accumulating power is absent of moral impetus (magic as science) then an artificial conflict has to be constructed: other people also gaining power, but these people don't like you for whatever reason.

But when power is inherently corrupting, then the conflict is natural: to preserve existence, the powerless must try to keep power in check, but the means by which to do that are pitiful compared to what the power can do.

And so for the players to be a force for good, they must truly be bright and steadfast, or they must flirt with evil without giving in completely.

Or if they are just muscle for hire looking to make a buck, the temptation of magic is the choice between a modest existence, and potentially infinite wealth (perhaps) at the cost of one's soul.

Drinking Rainwater from a Wolf's Paw Print

Source

If you haven't skimmed it, I highly recommend the Wikipedia page on the Werewolf. In particular, the section on Becoming a werewolf is full of great stuff that our D&D frozen minds would never think of.

Like how some myths propose that simply drinking rainwater from the paw print of any animal was enough to turn you into that creature.

That isn't just good monster lore, that's good magic lore. How different would the magician be if their magical abilities weren't a series of arcane words and arm motions, but a kind of esoteric utilization of the opportunities that the natural world presented to them? It isn't so much about knowing a spell, though a book full of instructions on how to do magical things would still be very important, but rather it's about putting the right components together to make an effect.

I can't help but think about the wizards and sorcerers and such in the games that I've played, and how boring they are as magic-users go. There's almost no mystery to them, and even worse, whatever mystery there was is totally removed once you realize the character has pulled out all their spells in the first session or two.

I'm never surprised by a spellcaster anymore. I'm never shocked at a player's spell selection. Probably because the classes and spells they have to choose from are too utilitarian and not nearly eccentric enough.

Of all the countless hours I have searched the web for game design content (particularly OSR content), no topic has felt more time consuming and unsolvable that making magic less...blah.

And for good reason. Magic is at its best when the situation in-game is the most tense and unpredictable. However, making magic cooler often means making magic more complex, which means players need more time to figure out what their magic does each turn. More time spent on one person's turn slows the game down. Slow turns kill the vibe, which is what we were trying to augment in the first place. It's a Catch-22.

I'm always returning to Tolkien's world, because that is perhaps the single most magical feeling world I have ever had the pleasure of being in. I have gone over and over what makes Tolkien magic so appealing, and part of it is always the fact that it is a story, and not a game. In a story, the magic-user can easily go four chapters without using magic at all, but in-game, if a magician character goes four sessions without slinging a single spell, they will probably be pretty ornery.

Something that I can learn from Tolkien immediately is that magic happens far more in D&D combat than it should. More combat-focused magic is certainly the trend in new-school games, and I find that boring. In a Harry Potter setting, where the entire fantasy world is primarily concerned with the academic pursuit of magic, combat magic is cool and refreshing. But in D&D and Middle Earth, where war and battle and monsters and the like are the main course, making magic combat-centric is the equivalent of doubling down instead of covering your bases.

Swords and bows and armor and monsters and catapults and legendary foes all roaming the battlefield isn't enough for you? You need fiery explosions every six seconds to make combat feel exciting and worthwhile? Nah, man. No thank you. That's over-saturation. One blast of searing light or call of a lighting bolt per story arch is enough for me, I think.

The best way to communicate this kind of magical feel isn't by describing it, but by presenting a list of spells and such to give you an idea of what this means. Hopefully, I'll be posting that soon.

Boring RPG Races

I've talked about fantasy races before. I mostly enjoy the classics, especially when they are done well. If playing a dwarf in your game feels very different from playing a human, even though it's the same ol' Tolkien-esque style of dwarf, that's a good fantasy race in my book.

And just like a good bartender, if you can put your own spin on a classic while keeping it recognizable, even better.

But what really makes me wince are the plethora of half-ass'd "other" races that show up in RPGs. These are generally based on a handful of over-used or copied ideas that are good once, or have had all their awesomeness sucked out of them in the process of making a facsimile.

Let's talk about these handful of dreadful ideas so we can all avoid them like the plague.


The Anthropomorphic Animal
You know what are badass? Lizardmen. And you know what else are badass? Lionfolk. And so are Tiger People. But you know what's lame? A game where all three of those races exist. This is one of those "one-and-done" situations. If you put one animal-human race in your game, it will be the cool, feral, bestial race that fills in a niche quite nicely. If you put in more than one, it will be a bad anime on steroids.

The Anthropomorphic Plant
These just have to go. Period. Ents are the coolest thing ever. But you shouldn't be able to play one. No, not even a little human-sized one. What did you say? Yours are made of leaves and twigs, not solid wood? I don't care. Call them what you will, twig people are always lame and not at all inspired by the actual lifecycle of plants. Does your entire race go dormant in the winter? Do you make fruit? Do you bloom? Could you become pregnant from pollen wafting through the air? No? Then you aren't really a plant, are you? You're a person in plant cosplay. Boring.

The Lycanthrope Wanna-be
Werewolves, man. Werewolves. I still can't decide whether they are better than vampires, or vise-verse. Either way, they are awesome. You know what's not awesome? Stupid werewolf wanna-be's. These include two kinds of things: first, monsters that also have some kind of "change into an animal at the full moon" kinda thing. You know, were-boars, were-bears, were-slugs, etc. Lame. It was cool once. You suddenly let every animal under the sun have some special disease that will turn humans into them once a month, and now you've gone and ruined it. Second is the half-were-people. Those human people who can turn fuzzy at the first sign of trouble and get some kinda power boost because of it. Most often called "shifters" or, heaven preserve us, "Animorphes." These are everything lame about half-orcs and half-elves, mixed with everything lame about the anthropomorphic animals. Not good.

The Tiny Race
Okay, what is going through peoples' minds when they decide to put pixies and fairies and chipmunks and whatnot into their games? The only cool thing about these races is that they are small. But most games already have a race much smaller than human, namely halflings, and that is their domain! What will the halflings have now? Hairy feet? Obsession with food? Come on. Three foot tall adventurers is already stretching my suspension of disbelief to its limits here. No need to bring in an insect sized thing to help me fight the dragon, thank you.

Elementals
How exactly is a person made entirely of fire a suitable adventurer? If you can survive getting wet, or losing oxygen, then what about you is fire? Oh, I'm just a dwarf with a beard made of fire. Really? That is the basis for an entirely different race and culture? Flaming beards? You know what would be way more interesting? Regular dwarves who set their real beards on fire for some reason. I'd play to see that.

Dopplegangers
Perhaps the single worst idea for a playable race ever made. This race's role and identity is that they have none. It's like opposite day in the roleplaying world. When it's a super-assassin, made by an evil wizard to kill the PCs, and can look like anyone at anytime. THAT'S Terminator 2 levels of awesome and scary. When it's a player character trying to make a buck in a dungeon crawl, that's lame and might as well be a human who likes to wear disguises. Aliases are cool, not having an identity is not.

The half-giant
I refuse to accept that these creatures could ever exist. Also, being smaller than humans makes for an interesting underdog story. Being much larger is either a TREMENDOUS advantage, or you have nerfed it's mechanical advantage so badly that it isn't even worth it anymore. Just leave these out, please. Being gigantic is the realm of monsters. Keep it that way.

The Three-armed Thing
Ugh. [Insert rules for multi-weapon fighting style BS here.]

Warforged
To be honest, I love the idea of a robot-type race. (Note: ROBOT, not half-human cyborg thing. That should not be a race.) Not only do I like it, but I have never found a game world with more than one of these robot races in it. So kudos there. BUT, how about we shy away from the "built for war, now the war's over" thing, yeah? There must be cooler origin stories out there for sentient robots. First thought, screw angels, the gods left these robots behind on earth to do their will. Or maybe there isn't a spirit world, but a clockwork realm that people go when they die, and these robots are those that have managed to come back, like ghosts. You get the picture. Just get those mental gears turning and you'll figure something out.

d8 Instruments for Fantasy Settings

No explanation necessary, just roll baby!

1. This wind instrument is the semi-dissected, semi-cured carcass of a trout or other good size fish, which has been prepared so as to allow air to be blown into a mouthpiece near the tail, and through the fish's digestive tract to the gills. A bladder just before the gills is grasped by inserting a hand into the fish's mouth, and is squeezed to control air flow. Sounds like bagpipes mixed with a saxophone.
2. This simple instrument sounds like a kazoo, but is made of a shed snake skin that has been flattened and filled with a sticky, greasy substance. The tail of the skin is blown into, and the air comes out the other end raspy sounding, and the skin itself whips around like a broken party blower while in use.
3. A jaw harp/mouth harp/jews harp.
4. A belt of various skulls, appropriately sized for easy carrying by the wearer, which are hit with soft mallets to produce a sound like a wooden block. Bigger skull = lower sound.
5. A didgeridoo with multiple mouth holes and only one horn, for multiple people.
6.  This is a set of brass pipes that stand on its own. It has one mouthpiece at the center, which the player blows into, that immediately splits into two separate pipes leading to separate horns. Attached to each horn are pumps that resemble bellows, which are both operated by the blower, one in each hand. The sonic effect is that of two trombones played at once.
7. This instrument is a wheel of small drums set up to resemble a windmill, though much shorter. The player sits in front of it and pumps two pedals with his or her feet to spin the wheel, and then hits the drums with wooden mallets.
8. An air tight brass box is placed under a large pool of water. Outside the water are hoses which are attached to bellows operated by helpers. The musician, highly praised for their skill, holds their breath and lowers themselves into the water. They then twist knobs attached to the box which release air at varying rates through variously sized holes. The bubbles created on the water's surface make a each note of the music, though the musician can never hear the music they are currently performing.

d20 NPC Hats

Hey! It's been a long time, so let's get into it.

You can tell a lot about a person based on the hat they wear.

Like whether they are a little fancy...

Or really REALLY old....

Or dangerous...

Or intelligent....

Or mischievous...

So, here is a 1d20 table of interesting hats, helmets, cowls, and other headgear for your NPCs:

1. A black bowler hat with a row of rainbow feathers like a mohawk down the middle.
2. A steel set of shoulder pads which connect to a cross frame that wraps around the sides and top of the head, ending at a polished metal beak which covers wearer's nose and has some holes for breathing.
3. A headband of animal claws strung together, all pointed up and inward, like a crown. In between the claws are shed snake skins which hang down around the wearer's face like a veil.
4. A leather headband with two arrows that sit above the ears, pointing forward and slightly up.
5. A stone bowl that goes down to the cheekbones, with two rough arches carved into it for the eyes to look through. On the front is a deep blue gem the size of a tangerine.
6. Either of these bad boys:
   
7. A dark silk hood that attaches at the front of the collar instead of the back, and is pulled over the face, having two (or more, or fewer) holes for the eyes of the wearer. There is a lot of extra material that hangs down the back to keep the hood on during activity.
8. This guy just has chains wrapped around his neck and head, held in place by a couple of steel locks that thread through them.
9. A turtle shell, front and back, connected by leather straps. It fits over the head with one shell protecting the face and the other the back of the head and neck.
10. A tough cloth hat that is folded to look like a paper crane without wings.
11. A bronze helmet styled to look like several humanoid hands pulling at the wearer's face and hair.
12. A set of cow udders that have been tanned and turned to leather. Pulled over the top of the head with the shriveled utters pointing up.
13. A wooden cube, the size of a small apple, with a string running through it. The cube sits on the head, slightly to one side, and the string is tied below the chin.
14. This hat resembles a sombrero, but instead of one wide brim, there are three brims: the bottom one is very wide, the middle one is about two thirds that size, and the one near the top is half that size again.
15. The lower half of a large monster's jaw, which is attacked by a cord around the neck to the lower half of the wearer's jaw.
16. A wide brass ring which pierces the septum (lower, central nose cartilage), and is rotated up and over the head to rest on the ears.
17. A small skull cap, like a yarmulke, with a very thin metal sheet sitting flat-wise on top of it. The sheet bears the life story of the wearer, thus far, in a minuscule font.
18. A small, fleshy creature which nests in the hair of the wearer, and can speak if spoken to, but usually sleeps. Supposedly it hunts at night and returns before the wearer ever wakes up. If anyone attempts to remove it against its will, it bites at them viciously.
19. A woven net of some unknown fiber, equipped with dozens of treated horsetail hairs that stick straight out roughly two feet from the wearer's head. If any of the hairs touch something, the wearer becomes aware of it immediately.
20. A cap made of the head pelt of a large predatory canine or feline. It covers the top of the head and back of the neck, and includes the animal's ears on both sides. The ears have had some of their original organs preserved, and connected to two enchanted pebbles, which dangle from the inside of the cap, and are inserted into the wearer's ears. Once on correctly, the wearer has heightened hearing, and anatomical control of the ears on the cap.

We Are Born Of Dragons

[This post uses some names and such from 4e D&D and the Hobbit. So if you wanna see where I was inspired somewhat, check out the 4e PHB and such.]

In my world, Lizardfolk and Dragonborn are the same race. They are both cold-blooded and immune to most poisons.

But if you ask one of them whether the two are the same, they will tell you otherwise.

Originally, there were only Lizardfolk, which organized themselves into various swamp-based and island-based tribes. They were a shamanic race with a rich culture and diversity.

Then, a prophet among them, named Arkhosia, began preaching a history and origin of the Lizardfolk. He bore a pair of great wings on his back, and said his people were born of dragons, not lizards. They were made as disciples to dragons, and crave their warmth (that is why they are cold-blooded). The dragons are a part of them, and it was their commission to take these dragons under their wing, so to speak, and focus their power for the building of a great civilization.

For you see, dragons are a terrible kind, prone to greed and sickness when exposed to wealth. Their power is unmatched, and if any race could befriend these serpents, then surely they would rule land, air, and sea.

The prophet Arkhosia said he was given instructions in a vision. Instructions for how to treat this dragon sickness and rehabilitate the monsters into loyal allies of unmatched strength. Arkhosia's words spread throughout the Lizardfolk tribes, and soon thousands called themselves Dragonborn.

Many dragons were pulled from their lairs and forced through a sort of withdrawal. But once through the ordeal, the serpents showed a bright intelligence and trustworthiness.

Upon the backs of dragons, Arkhosia built an empire. Rarely was there violence under Arkhosia's reign. He was a master of diplomacy, and sought only to unite dragons and all other races. He spread riches equally throughout his empire, so that the dragons were not stricken by exposure to hordes of wealth. He built no capital, and wandered the empire most of his days, protecting the people from monstrous threats.

Eventually, after a few hundred years, Arkhosia was seen no more. Some say he died alone but for his dragon, content. Others say he now roams the skies, born aloft for years at a time, and rarely seen. Others say he made his way to the underworld, in pursuit of a sorcerer of unspeakable power, to kill him, or perhaps befriend him? The stories all meld together.

In Arkhosia's absence, the empire remained strong, to a point. Soon, though, Dragonborn of ugly aspirations sought to expand the empire by force, and rule their territories more stringently than did Arkhosia. These Dragon Lords met at a single council to speak of their plans and the future of the empire. They came to only one agreement: that the empire should be named Arkhosia in memory of its founder. From there on, the discussions made no headway. Instead, they flew back to their respective corners of the world and ruled their lands as feudal lords, collecting wealth and exacting terrible violence against all who opposed them.

The remaining leaders of the world made an alliance to fight back the ever expanding and extremely violent Dragon Empire. The means by which they fought back ranged from valiant combat to devilish magic, and in the end, they merely survived: the Empire of Arkhosia fell on its own sword. When the dragons could no longer resist the temptation of riches, and the sickness ripped their psyches into monstrous minds, they turned on their own, burning the empire from within. The dragons destroyed everything but the gold and valuables, and stole away with their take into mountains and forests and deserts and caves.

Arkhosia was no more.

If you see a scaly humanoid walking among you, it is surely a Lizardfolk, a descendant of the tribes that never converted. They live in very much the same way as they did before the empire ever come into being.

But there is a spark, twisted by its own undoing, that still burns in the darkness. A deranged few Dragonborn still roam the world, cultists of the vilest orientation. They seek out dragons and dominate them, convinced that this was what the prophet had truly meant for their kind. They transform the dragons into horrible beasts through dark rituals and let them loose on the land.

They trek from ruin to ruin of their lost empire, practicing their rights in secret. Arkhosia is not gone, they whisper, and he shall only return once the land is scorched to ash.

The Box Gods

I've been playing a lot of The Last of Us recently, specifically the Factions Multiplayer mode. In this mode, your character must constantly replenish their supplies at some boxes scattered over the map. However, the boxes only give out what is reasonable to a player in your position.

If you are the last man standing on your team, you'll receive a glorious bounty.

If your team is ahead by a dozen points, you'll get scraps at best.

This resource balancing system is referred to by many players as "The Box Gods." So here we go: The Box Gods in a tabletop RPG.


The Box Gods have no names. They are a mystery group, just like whatever awaits an adventurer inside of an unopened box. They judge the opener of the box, and then place something inside. Or, they take something out. Or, they do nothing. Each of the countless Box Gods is fickle and unpredictable.

Some say that the Box Gods inhabit another world. One where all possessions go when they are hidden from sight by being placed inside of a box...

...or a chest...

...or a pocket...

...or anywhere else you might keep something secret.

Others swear that these minor deities are actually spirits of fate, giving to those who have done good, and taking from those who have done evil.

Many do not believe in the Box Gods at all. They place their items in a box, and the same items are there tomorrow. It's a farce and an old wives tale, nothing more.

And yet, many a curious rogue has been burned by jets of flame that erupt from an unlocked chest. Many an armored hero have founds books of terrible evil where they should not have been. Many a bright-eyed adventurer have delved to the depths of a dungeon, and thrown back the cover of an ornate coffer, only to find the priceless treasure gone...

...from this secret place...

...where none have set foot...

...for a thousand years..........

Dark Elves, Emphasis on the "Dark"

I've decided I like the term "dark elves" better than "drow." Mostly because ever since RA Salvatore, the term "drow" has a whooooole bunch of baggage that I don't want to incorporate into my campaigns.

So my dark elves live above ground. If you checked out my post about dwarves, then you know that we already have a subterranean race. Two, actually, but that other race is yet to come.

I did a brainstorming session with my aforementioned friend, Max, who just set up his new movie review blog which you should all check out: Amateur Hour Film Reviews. Anyway, in said brain-typhoon, we hammered out some broad strokes to revamp other races, and the dark elves were on that list, so consider this post a dual-effort.


We know Eladrin despise decay, and Elves are generally okay with the balance of nature (life, death, the whole shebang), but Dark Elves idolize death. They believe that the material world is a sort of purgatory for unclean souls, which the Raven Queen is putting through a crucible so they might prove themselves. Death is an aspiration. When the Queen of death calls you, you should be thankful.

Dark Elves are not strictly evil, just as the Raven Queen is not evil, but their beliefs and credos make it nearly impossible for any other race to get along with them. To them, death is an everyday occurrence. They don't cry at the deaths of their own, they cry at near deaths. To survive a near-fatal accident or illness means the Raven Queen has rejected you, and you must continue your trials and tribulations here in the material plane before being allowed into the spirit world.

The only evils, in the eyes of the dark elves, are the undead. Undeath is the chiefest of sins. Dark elves are called by the Raven Queen to abolish all of the living dead, and torture those that create such abominations.

Physiologically, Dark Elves are very similar to Elves. They are lean and lithe, wear their hair long, and have pointed features. Their skin ranges from an ashy gray to an absolute ebony or obsidian. Their hair is generally a silver white, and their eyes run the same gamut of greens, blues, and oranges seen in their crepuscular cousins.

Dark Elves rise at night and hide during the day, not that they have much to hide from, but the harsh rays of the sun are annoying to them. Dark Elven woods are barren and feel haunted. The trees are gray, petrified. The plant life is dominated by black, thorny vines. This is the effect of dark elf magic. It is very akin to defiling magic from the oh-so-beloved Dark Sun setting in Dungeons and Dragons. It sucks the very life-force out of the sorcerer's surroundings for use as fuel.

Their magic is potent, and so is their poison. The petrified trees in their woods drop black leaves that never rot or decay. These leaves turn to a black powder upon being pressed, which can be mixed with water to make ink (thus dark elves are some of the most prolific writers in the world), OR, the powder can be mixed with saliva and kept in vials. After a few days away from fresh air, the powder and spit mixture turns into a deadly poison called Raven's Kiss.

Raven's Kiss first causes paralysis of the major muscles. Then, it causes paralysis of the muscles involved in breathing, causing the afflicted creature to suffocate unless cured or magically aided in some way.

Dark Elven funerals are large and time consuming. It may seem a lot like a human funeral, with family and friends of the deceased speaking words of endearment and telling fond stories and memories, but unlike human funerals, Dark Elven funerals are full of dry eyes and smiles. At the end, the Dark Elves often lament how fortunate their dead kin are, to have been chosen by the Raven Queen to enter her great kingdom in the true world.

Wood Elves: No Magic for Me, Thank You

They don't do magic.

None. Nada. Zilch.

Okay, some wood elves (just "elves" from now on) can magically heal people, but they don't really consider it magic. More like, helping nature along.

Other than that, they do not partake in sorcery of any kind*. They believe the world is balanced as-is: life, death, the laws of nature, etc., all working as one. Magic would bend that balance, and though they will not inhibit others from doing magic, and do not fear or misunderstand magic, they will not practice it themselves.

But that doesn't mean they just sit around all day and do nothing!

Elves are avid wind and string instrument players. It's rare to find an elf without a set of pan pipes, a flute, an ocarina, a lute, a harp, or some other musical item on their person. Unwelcome guests in Elvish forests are often met with eerie and disturbing sounds and notes from all directions, the sources of which are completely hidden.

Elves live about 90 to 120 years.

Elves keep pets like no other race could bare to. Nearly every elf has at least one pet, most have two or more. Typical pets include dogs, cats, birds, moles, snakes, etc. A significant minority of elves are socially content with just these animal companions, and choose never to get married or raise a family.

Fruits, vegetables, and nuts are the staples of an Elvish diet, although they also hunt small game (duck, squirrel, etc.) to make desserts on special occasions. Larger animals are viewed as too majestic and few to hunt or consume in good conscience. They don't farm, only gather.

Elves don't mine or smith metals. If an elf owns something metal, they either found it, or traded for it with human who live nearby. Elvish armor is all leather and bone, and elvish weapons are all wood (i.e. bows and arrows, javelins, clubs, slings, etc.) and are of very high quality.

Elves are mainly nocturnal, hunting and working and playing during the night, while the protectors among them patrol the wood for dangers. During the day, when most threats such as orcs, jaguars, the undead and so on are dormant, the elves eat, rest, and sleep (a mere hour a day is all they need).

Elves typically inhabit small nests of leaves at the base of trees or up among the branches. They eschew personal effects or property that cannot be carried at all times.

Elves loathe violence when it can be avoided, but they will also fight bitterly, and to the death, when acting in self-defense, defense of their home/family/friends, or when the enemy is unnatural and has already been provoked. If elves can sneak around violence, or avoid future bloodshed, they will. Elves never go on conquests or campaigns, for land or glory. Any request to get an Elvish army to march beyond its forest's borders (assuming the forest still stands and is inhabitable) would be flat-out refused.

---

*Elves that DO explore sorcery are universally corrupted by it. They quickly lose their minds and become evil, seeking only to unhinge the balance of the world just to find out what happens. The elves have a name for these poor souls, and in the common tongue it translates roughly to "lost ones."

Wait, There Were Eladrin in 3.5?

You bet there were. And they weren't just sparkly-eyed elves either.

Specifically, they were found under the Core Monster Manual's "Ghaele" and "Bralani" entries, which are now part of the OGL.

I don't give a hoot about their stats though, I'm interested in their picture, which is the only real fluff part of the OGL stuff. Check them out:

Link to SRD page

Wooh! That's what I'm talking about! Look at those muscles, and the bad ass weapons, and the +5 level adjustments. THOSE things are NOT just pointy-eared humans who like magic, that's for sure.

Then 4e came along and fixed all the math, but spoiled all the imbalance. The only Eladrin that could be found in that game were boring, occasionally-teleporting humans who lived a long time.

So here is how I would play Eladrin in my game:

-Eladrin are, far and away, the most successful of the races in terms of: wars won, magic discovered, overall physical prowess (some races are stronger, some are faster, but if there were a fantasy decathlon, the Eladrin would win every time), history documented, weapons and armor smithing, architectural feats, agricultural efficiency, and civilization longevity.

-Eladrin live a LOOOOOOOONG time. Like, thousands of years. Because of this they are extremely meritocratic. If you can't become really really good at SOMETHING given a couple thousand years practice, you're probably pretty hopeless.

-But they have traits you wouldn't expect, too. Their governments are either run by royal families or monarchs, because it is stable, and thousand year old kings are quite level-headed. 

-Despite their meritocratic lifestyles, they dislike competition because short-term measurements of accomplishment make no sense to them.

-They are ultra confident, but not to a fault. Chances are, they are very good at anything someone asks them to do, but if they aren't, they will listen avidly to anyone who can teach them how to accomplish the task. They ask LOTS of questions when learning anything, and struggle to understand why anyone would refuse to share their knowledge with others or get bored of teaching.

-Eladrin generally have one or two children, when they are around 100 years old. Eladrin children actually mature faster than humans, reaching adult size and reproductive ability by age 10, at which point they are essentially self-sufficient and often live on their own. This total lack of a significant childhood makes Eladrin prejudiced against children other than their own. Being called a child or "young" is a big-time insult to Eladrin.

-Eladrin may marry many dozens of times in their lives, each new marriage supplanting the old one, almost always without any bad-blood or animosity on the part of either partner.

-Eladrin are downright rude to anyone who says they will accomplish something, and then are not able to.

-Eladrin see the acknowledgement of beauty as their only currency. For example: Farmers will give away their crops in order to show off how beautiful their plants are. Swordmasters hold public lessons frequently to make a display of their techniques. Wizards's favorite spells are often flashy and impressive. So on, so on.

-This comes with a significant downside, however. Eladrin will sometimes wage war in order to seize land that is naturally beautiful. Often, a handful of Eladrin warriors will show up in a quaint non-Eladrin town, near a very pretty waterfall for instance, and serve the hamlet with a contract to relocate so that the Eladrin may inhabit the aesthetically pleasing area. If the townspeople agree (are smart), the Eladrin usually make the move as easy and beneficial as possible by giving the ex-inhabitants food and lumber for relocating. If the townsfolk resist, well, there is a reason they only need a handful of warriors...

-Lastly, Eladrin hate the idea of decay. Not death, such as in battle, or when crops are reaped for harvest, but withering, dying. They avoid it in their environments at all cost, using magic to prevent flowers from ever wilting, riverbed stones from ever eroding, trees from ever dropping their leaves, etc.

Done. I know I said I was going to do wood elves today too, but they'll wait until next time.

I Like My Dwarves Like I Like My Women

That is, not inspired by Tolkien or Peter Jackson.

Because, let's be honest, they have no personalities or characteristics of their own.

There are only three women with actual dialogue in the four main books about Middle Earth, and two of them fall in love with the same guy (barf, have some individual development please). And the third (Galadriel) is so powerful and otherworldly as to be beyond gender entirely. If Tolkien didn't want the leader of the Elves to be indescribably beautiful, he would have made her a man.

This is the problem with Dwarves, as well as countless other races in your standard fantasy games: they could easily be supplanted. In this case, by eccentric humans. If that is true, I say make them humans, or make them more interesting.

Dwarves are just short humans with Scottish accents that like gold. Hell, even living underground is not enough to make them interesting. Think about it: a culture of humans that live underground would interest your players a LOT more than the standard Dwarf civilization. And of course they would value gold and rare earths a lot, that is one of the only natural resources available underground.

Here's how I would do Dwarves:

-Dwarves are deathly afraid of the surface world. Dwarves that go above ground are their race's equivalent to cosmonauts, and have to physiologically adjust over time, too.

-Dwarves cannot swim. They sink like rocks. They can't even be trained to swim. It's just physics.

-Dwarves will go to war with almost anyone to acquire rich mineral veins. Usually, they try to sneak underground and mine the jewels and metals without being noticed, but if they have to fight, or if the city/town above collapses, they usually don't give a fart. (P.S. Some dwarven activists protest this theft of minerals). (P.P.S I'm pretty sure I got this from another blog, but I can't find the link for the life of me.)

-Dwarves are agnostic. No sky = no great and mysterious lights = no creation myths. HOWEVER, the dwarven cosmonauts do worship a long-dead mortal being who trained their first group in the ways of surface living.

-Dwarves eat root vegetables, fungi, and insects only. Not a lot of deer to hunt underground. Not many apple trees either. Dwarven alcohol is made from fermenting these three food groups. No grain-alcohols.

-Dwarves don't smith. [GASP!] Because they don't like digging vents to the surface world, and lighting fires/forges underground is a sure-fire (pun intended) way to die of smoke inhalation. Instead, dwarves have developed a magic system based off of magnetism that allows them to very effectively bind cold-smithed metals together. They make mostly art, architecture, and digging/smithing tools with this magic.

-Native dwarven weapons are stone: they wouldn't dare waste their metals on things made to smash and break. They also wear no armor, because they lack the resources to make suitable light protection (primarily leather).

-Dwarves don't bathe while underground. For them, the feeling of a light layer of dust and dirt on their skin is ideal. The cosmonauts do bathe, but they sand/dirt bathe. Mostly to get the weird green plant matter and occasional moisture off their skin. Gross.

-I see no reason why dwarves should live for many hundreds of years. I'd stick their expected age range between 175 and 200 years.

That's it for today, I'll do Eladrin/High Elves and Wood Elves tomorrow.

Help! My Players Don't Know What To Do

So your players aren't biting at those hooks you set.

Or perhaps they are biting...just too easily. They don't bother to do any oblique thinking. They willingly railroad themselves into a plot. They wait for you (the DM) to hand deliver them a quest, but you want them to explore with some self-direction.

Your problem is that your world has no detail.

Dedicated players cannot help but be intrigued by world details. But the details that DMs usually put in don't spark action, or generate questions.

For example: "You walk into the next room in the dungeon, a forty foot by thirty foot by ten foot chamber with more dark stone walls and carved floors. It isn't as musty as the previous rooms. There is a wooden table with matching chair in the center of the room, a goblin body is sprawled across the table with a roughly crafted dagger sticking out of its back. There are six silver pieces in the goblin's pockets. On the other side of the room is another wooden door."

You can probably pictures that room well, and you would be confidently interacting with it if you were a player. But you wouldn't get anything from it except "you should probably continue into the next room, and there are other things alive down here, if you didn't already know that."

But that isn't enough. Where are the things that the players will hold onto when they leave the dungeon? Where are the tiny hooks into future adventure?

The answer is: on a half dozen random tables that you need to generate now. Like, right now. d100s.

Table 1: Random names. Each entry should have one humanoid name and one monstrous one.
Table 2: Motives. A big list of things this creature or NPC could be doing/involved with.
Table 3: LOOT. A list of stuff that enemy or NPC might have on them.
Table 4: Details. Roll with the LOOT table to get unique treasure every time. Ex: "Has an elvish rune on it."
Table 5: Dungeon Motifs. Yeah, it's dwarvish. But maybe it was built by dwarves that had giants as slaves...
Table 6: PLOT TWIST. A list of random things that an NPC or monster could do to mix things up.

The point of these tables is that, without them, the DM rarely fills in these blanks, even though they would always be filled in if this were real. That dagger in the goblin's back will just be a shitty dagger if not for these tables. But a shitty dagger with an elvish inscriptions? (Hell, make a random inscription table...) Now that's interesting and worth questing about.

Every time you, as the DM, put a goblin in the dungeon that doesn't have any reason to be there other than as an encounter for the PCs, you've wasted time and energy. But giving each goblin a story while you prep for the session would be ridiculous. That's what the tables are for. If the PCs are in too much of a rush to loot and examine that dead goblin, then that's that. Other things are more interesting right now, and you can leave that goblin as "just a goblin." But start encouraging your PCs to explore the details.

You'd be surprised at the level of storytelling that emerges from stupid details.

Think about it. Those six silver pieces in the goblins pocket? Why are they there? Money doesn't just appear in people's pockets (unfortunately). That goblin did something to earn those silver pieces. Maybe he found them on the ground while heading back to the dungeon after being kicked out of his goblin group. Maybe he killed someone for pay. Maybe he cheated in a card game, and his opponents let him keep the silver, but put a blade between his shoulder blades as a parting gift. That could be another table: How did this guy get this money, d100. You get the drift.

Just be ready to fill in the details when the PCs want you to, but don't do random details off the top of your head. Put them together earlier, and craft them to be sure every single detail is a stepping stone for more adventure.

Triple Comparison: Setting, Art, System, and Layout in P&P RPGs

In this post, I'm going to review three games based on their performance in four areas: setting, art, system, and layout. The games are:

• 4th Edition D&D (Wizards of the Coast)
• Within the Ring of Fire (RAW Immersive Games)
• Dogs In the Vineyard (D. Vincent Baker)

I'm using a simple '*' rating system for each category score:

• * = detracts from the game
• * * = maintains game quality
• * * * = adds significant quality to the game

Setting

Not every game needs to come with a setting. Whether it should or not depends on the goals of the game designers. In fact, if all I as a customer will get for setting is another Forgotten Realms or Firefly spin-off, I'd rather the designers save the ink, paper, and time, and hopefully save me a little money. A full-fledged setting that is tacked on at the very end of the game design process is not worthwhile, no matter how in-depth it is.

4e D&D: **

You may be surprised by this, but I think that 4e did setting very tastefully and meaningfully. Technically, the 4e D&D rules are supposed to be setting-independent, but that doesn't mean that there aren't hints dropped all over PHB at a wider world. 

Some examples: the gods (1 page, front and back) all have three strictures listed for their worshipers. Every single stricture bullet point is both a little more characterization of the deity, and a potential adventure hook for the players. All of the races have "[Race] adventures" listed, with three example characters and their motivations for going out questing. Each one of these is a window into the larger setting. Some even hook you in with references to fallen empires and ancient kingdoms.

I can appreciate the light sprinkle of setting detail over the (obviously rules-heavy) game that is 4e. It gets the players excited to write their own adventures and start playing. And best of all, in terms of game design, it takes very little work.

Ring of Fire: ***

This is an indie game that you may never have heard of. It was written by an RPG Youtuber that I used to watch religiously before I transitioned over to rpg blogs instead of vlogs. The man is a master of immersion and storytelling grandeur, so I was eager to get the WtRoF Saga book when it came out.

As far as setting goes, there isn't a sour note in the whole 60+ pages of world-building that sit at the end of this 200 page book. Ander went above and beyond any RPG setting expectations, and questioned everything, everything, to make it more fantastical. Day and night cycles? Fantastical. Calendar? Included, and fantastical. Countries and creeds? You get the picture.

This setting must have taken Ander years to put together. That is amazing, and well worth what I paid for the book. I could easily use this setting in another game as well, giving the book even more value to me. But, a time sink like this is intimidating to new players, and sometimes simply not an option for game designers.

Dogs: ***

There's more than one way to impress with your game's setting, however, and Dogs in the Vineyard is the perfect example of a less-traveled road by which to do so. In Dogs, you play the young religious police of a roughly Mormon-equivalent group in still-territorial Utah. The setting is just the 19th century United States, with a few (nicely politically correct) groups added in, plus a little religious or satanic magic too. Nothing too complex, certainly not a world-building undertaking the size of WtRoF.

BUT, the feel of the game is translated so strongly through the introductory descriptions of what being one of "God's Watchdogs" is like, that players can't help but be immersed. Dogs doesn't give you some wide world to go explore, it gives you a deep culture and time period to go explore. This kind of setting has to deliver drama and action on top of its physical locations and societies, because the game is so focused in its scope.

There is far more in Dogs about the interactions between groups than there is about the landscape or technology. That's the drama and action I'm talking about. The game would not be complete without it.

Art

This one will be short and sweet.

4e: ***

I love 4e art. The style and color palette choices are excellent and unlike any other fantasy art I've ever seen. Occasionally, there are pieces from 3.5, but largely, the art is coherent and inspiring (especially the class close-ups, talk about PRETTY). It is professional and it ties the 4e books together neatly.

Ring of Fire: ***

This indie game used indie artists from all over. Although it isn't very coherent, and some pieces are less than professional looking, I as an rpg player appreciate when younger/newer artists contribute to my games. It feels good to know that I am helping them follow their artistic passion by buying these books. And when the art is good, it's really good (I mean, check out that cover! Bad ass.)

Dogs: **

Being another indie game, you can't compare Dogs to something like 4e. There are about a dozen pencil and ink pieces in the rule book that are all coherent and tasteful. They are black and white, which prevents you from seeing the rainbow coats that the Watchdogs have to wear, so that is a small downside. This kind of art is a good balance between a consistent look and feel and an indie budget. You can't always have it all, and using art as an accent rather than a main draw for customers is the right way to go.

System

This is where I could write thousands of words, but instead I'm going to choose one thing about the systems that might otherwise go unnoticed.

4e: **

Check out my Cocktail Weenie post about 4e here. My one addition would be this: when you include literally thousands of bite-sized rules, you are dissuading people from homebrewing their own. This is good for book sales, but may scare away a large customer base of rpg tinkerers. It also puts a huge responsibility on the layout people to make the rules digestible.

Ring of Fire: **

The dice system in WtRoF is a 2d8 system. Double 1s is a crit fail, but there is no crit success. Instead, 8s explode. This creates an open-ended central die mechanic. So while most rolls (and thus most character actions) will be results between 8 and 10, or average performance, you will occasionally get results in the 20s or 30s. It gives players the sense that "anything is possible," but the general grittiness of the rest of the game's mechanics prevent there from being a 4e-style "superhero" effect. Even the task resolution mechanics can add flavor and tone to your game. Which brings us to...

Dogs: ***

Dogs uses a "roll a pool of dice and use them one at a time" system for combat, and it feels like you are gambling. Because you are, essentially. If you play your cards (dice) wrong, you will have screwed yourself over for this encounter. It changes the entire pace of the game, and also emphasizes changes in strategy as opposed to big hits or critical failures. I've never seen another system like it, and I think that adds to the draw of this game. Sometimes, being different in multiple areas is enough to pull some attention in an ever more cluttered market and industry.

Layout

Surprisingly important, let me tell you...

4e: ***

I have never spent more than 15 seconds looking for a rule in 4e D&D. The books are fantastically sectioned off and many rules are color coded (although they did use both red and green, which makes it harder for my colorblind friends to differentiate at-will and encounter powers, that's a no-no). The pages never feel cluttered, the font is clear, and lists are all alphabetical unless another organization system is more intuitive. A+. This is really a matter of time and outside feedback, and it is one of the reasons I like 4e as much as I do. Infinitely better than 3.5 D&D. Also infinitely better than...

Ring of Fire: *

Ouch. This book was written like a stream of consciousness. There are chapter headings, and even the longest table of contents I have ever seen, but those things don't do much good. For example: there are rarely page references within the book when a rule is mentioned. There are key rules that are not denoted in bold or a separate paragraph, so you have to search for them every time you need them, even if you know the exact page. There are no rules for magic in the Saga book, but this was not clear until my friend and I got feedback from the creator, because the Saga book mentions magic in the rules on several occasions, but never references other books or chapters about magic. There are paragraphs that should be split up into three or four smaller paragraphs, so on and so forth. 

Not good. I would play WtRoF a lot if it were laid out in a way that could help me and others understand it better. I still bought it, but I don't think game designers should be content with that kind of reaction.

Dogs: **

My one critique of the layout of Dogs is that the margins and type face are so large, that something like character creation takes up over 20 pages. That is a lot of pages to flip through for a set of rules that will always be referenced and used all together. The creators even seemed to acknowledge this, because they put in recap pages at the end of the sections to condense the info down and make sure you got everything.

Rule of thumb: if you have to do that, maybe your layout needs to be clearer.

That being said, the sections and sub-sections are all nicely demarcated, and the table of contents is good. I did a one-shot of this game with a friend who had never seen it before that night, and he picked it up from the rule book just fine, so long as I was there to guide him through some of the sections and make sure he got everything.

Totals

• 4e D&D: 10 stars
• Within the Ring of Fire: 9 stars
• Dogs in the Vineyard: 10 stars

Summary

Setting in a game needs to be deliberate and tasteful. Including a half-ass setting doesn't detract me from the product, but it does detract from my opinion of the company.

Art should be within the game designer's reasonable limits, and including indie artists is a big plus. Hell, I've seen no art games that I liked, but an illustration here or there never hurts.

System is where players' personal tastes will be most influential. System and art put pressures on layout, so make sure you understand what you are getting into. And ask yourself, what do the rules say about my game's setting and tone? Number distributions and dice rolls speak louder than you think.

Layout can be a deal breaker, even for a great game. The simpler your game, the less art, the easier layout is. But this is also where game design time and effort really shine through. Layout is not at all a matter of opinion. Some people will learn to deal with bad layouts if they have played the game enough, but new players will not. And one last thing: don't underestimate font and style. If opening your rpg book is like opening an ancient tome or magical text, points to you.