Killing Gods, Part 2

Man, I've got a half-dozen Real Life Important things on my plate today and if I don't get this damn post started, I don't know that I ever will. SO, without further ado, let's get down to the deicide!

The first god I ever killed in D&D was Thor.

To be clear, I was DM'ing at the time, not playing, but I am far more responsible for Thor's death than any of my players. In fact, I'd go so far as to say I was absolutely responsible. This was circa age 10 or so, on the playground, which meant we were still only a couple years into D&D play; at the time we had not yet discovered there was separation between editions of the game, and I was running my game with a combination of B/X and the AD&D Monster Manual and (occasionally) the DMG. My buddy had just acquired a copy of Deities & Demigods (the post-Moorcock/Lovecraft version) and we were anxious to put it into play. Since one of my earliest PCs in the game had a rather high-level thief who had no problem whupping up on normal challenges, I figured Thor would be the perfect encounter to put the dude in his place.

Dead duck

Now, I can't remember the exact circumstances of the scenario (this was some 35 years ago) but I can remember the outcome: Jason managed to piss off Thor (probably after I had pissed off the PC), whereupon Thor used Mjolnr to hit the thief with a 100-die lightning bolt. The thief's ring of spell turning reflected the bolt, Thor failed his saving throw, and was utterly disintegrated by the thing. If I remember correctly, Sneakshadow looted the thunder god of his mystic hammer, but I am 100% certain he never wielded the weapon (he was a thief after all, and rather small in stature for a human). 

I can also recall, later, reading the ring of spell turning description in the DMG and its specific stipulation (unlike the Cook Expert set) that magic item powers could not be turned and thinking: "darn, I screwed that up!" However, at no point do I remember thinking to myself, "hmm, maybe I should not have sent a greater god to fight a player character."

Deities & Demigods isn't a Monster Manual, but it's written like one...it has alphabetical entries for gods, each with a little illustration, a brief description, and a stat block. This is the exact same setup as any of the AD&D monster books. I'm sure I never even bothered to read the instructional text at the beginning of the book (explaining 'this isn't a Monster Manual') because I can remember reading all that for the first time (and loving it) after I purchased my own copy of DDG later in the form of Legends & Lore, sometime around age 11 (i.e. in 1985, before my 12th birthday). By that time, Jason had become a "Born Again" Christian and was no longer allowed to play D&D...though, perhaps, if his mother had been aware of his history with destroying pagan deities, she would have relented a bit.

For a kid to make such a mistake is pretty understandable...even older players can probably be forgiven for making lazy assumptions when confronted with a book with a similar format (and thus skipping over the pertinent parts of the introduction). The DDG was written the way it was to update the prior OD&D supplement Gods, Demi-Gods, and Heroes (Supplement IV) for the "Advanced" D&D format, and it is a decent emulation of the style in which Supplement IV was presented. So why did authors Rob Kuntz and Jim Ward provide god stat-lines when ambitious players were certain to treat them as challengeable monsters? The answer is in the Foreward to GDG&H:

This volume is something else, also: our last attempt to reach the "Monty Haul" DM's. Perhaps now some of the 'giveaway' campaigns will look as foolish as they truly are. This is our last attempt to delineate the absurdity of 40+ level characters. When Odin, the All-Father has only(?) 300 hit points, who can take a 44th level Lord seriously?

There it is: the book was meant to be a crack-down on what was deemed to be some of the "excesses" (as they saw it) of certain campaigns. By providing statistical representations for both literary heroes (Elric, Conan, Vainamoinen, etc.) AND the gods of various pantheons, D&D players would have a scale of comparison against which to measure their own characters and campaigns.

Which, I suppose, could be an admirable goal...if D&D wasn't a completely different animal.

The first
"monster manual"

D&D didn't really seek to emulate/model a particular setting (with an implicit scale) nor, really, a particular genre of fantasy. Elric's multi-verse spanning adventures are very different from Conan's down-and-dirty conflicts, and both pale in comparison the the physical might displayed by John Carter on the surface of Mars. D&D sought to provide rules for creating fantasy adventures - and it succeeded at that! - but it never meant to constrain or limit the players' imaginations. Telling players three years after the fact that they were "doing it wrong" was a ridiculous attempt to put the genie back in the bottle. Scale should have been baked in from the get-go if that had been the intention, instead of assuming similar minds and attitudes...and who's to say the attitude wasn't similar anyway? Both Gygax and Arneson had plenty of "wa-hoo" in their own campaigns.

But back to the discussion: regardless of what one thinks about the outrageousness of fighting...and potentially slaying...divine entities, it is absolutely clear that the D&D game provides explicit rules for doing just that! At least up through 3rd edition (the last edition for which I purchased a Deities & Demigods book), textual instruction has been provided that enable DMs to run gods as encounters against player characters. Certainly, each edition to do so (OD&D, AD&D, BECMI's "I" rules, 3E) have made the prospect more and more daunting, giving divine beings ever greater abilities...and yet, the game has never simply come out and said "nope, can't be done." The gods remain ever vulnerable to mere mortals.

[forcing a deity to make a saving throw at all...even if the chance of failure is only the 5% probability of rolling a "1" on a D20...is saying that the being is as fallible as any human. 'To err is...' and all that jazz]

And as said, the D&D game supports this type of play. It's own fiction (I admit to only having read Dragonlance and the Gygax-penned Greyhawk novels) encourages this type of play. And multiple adventure modules from D&D's "golden era" (pre-1983) provide examples of how such play might be handled.

In a reasonable fashion.

And I guess that's the part that has (recently) found my prickly hide to be chapping...well, one part anyway. The unreasonableness of the encounters being given. Or...perhaps...not even the unreasonableness of the scenarios, but the disconnect I see between the game and the...the...

Hmmm. It's not "style." Or "fiction." It's more of an attitude or outlook. An orientation. Folks want to play D&D in a particular way, a particular fashion. Okay, that's cool...that's fine. It's still D&D. But then they want to have these god-encounters that aren't reasonable...at least not in the manner of the game as designed.  

Hmm...I'm having a hard time expressing this. 

Let me try a different way. I've heard people say: "If my DM put a wight in a first level dungeon, I'd punch him in the face" (or words to that effect). Okay, great...I get your point, and it's a reasonable one given the parameters of the game as written. Low-level adventurers don't have the abilities to confront such a creature. Low-level adventurers don't have the abilities to confront a LOT of creatures.

SO...why would you put a god or godling in any sort of low level adventure?

Halls of the Blood King (levels 3-5)

Palace of Unquiet Repose (levels 3-5)

The God That Crawls (levels 1-2)

Operation Unfathomable (levels 1-?)

There are others...of course there are others, there are always others. These ones just spring immediately to mind, and I'm too lazy to go hunting up others. 

[that's another part of the hide chapping: I've lost track of how many low-level adventures see players encountering godlike beings. It's become such a regular choice for scenarios, it could be included in Moldvay's list of standard scenarios (page B51) between "Fulfilling a Quest" and "Escaping from Enemies." Call it "Confronting Godling Made Flesh" or something]

An adventure that pits a party of 4th level characters against "The Lord of All Vampires" is not, to my mind, a reasonable execution of the D&D system as intended, nor is an adventure that finds a party of 1st and 2nd level characters accidentally wandering into the lair of "Shaggath-Ka the Worm Sultan." It belies the dynamics and expectations implicit in the game's design. Yes, I'm sure that some (like the authors of these adventures listed) would beg to differ...as I wrote previously, this is all my (strong) opinion. So, I'd imagine some folks (those I haven't hopelessly offended) are wondering what I'd put forward as a reasonable adventure involving a godling?

Q1: Queen of the Demonweb Pits.

Q1 is not, of course, one's only tussle with Lolth, the demon queen of spiders...she first appears in Gygax's own D3: Vault of the Drow as a god made flesh, dwelling incarnate in the lowest level of her chosen people's greatest shrine (although why she's there is never explained). To be sure, Q1 is a flawed adventure, but I've found it to be a very fun adventure in play, and a rather solid example of possible "god fighting" in D&D. 

Note the high level: 10-14 is pretty darn high for AD&D. My very over-powered bard was something like 15th level (max levels for fighter/thief) when I tackled Q1, but the character's total x.p. was equivalent to a fighter of 11th or 12th level. 14th level spell-casters have close to 30 spells per day to play with (more, for high WIS clerics), and all such characters have a ton of resources, both magical and mundane, to draw upon. Attacking an arch-devil or demon prince (or queen) in its lair is a legitimate challenge for D&D characters that have otherwise grown too big for their britches.

Beefy monster

"Come on, JB, Sutherland's adventure is the height of cheesiness...you're just being nostalgic here!" Not at all. Given sufficient time adventuring, PCs will acquire resources such that normal logistical problems no longer apply: the ability to create food and water. Bags of holding and portable holes. Magical mounts and constructs that can carry immense burdens, rarely (if ever) tire, and that can bypass obstacles by flying. Magical means of entry and egress - or escape! - including teleportation, passwall, word of recall. And, of course, the power to bring fellow party members back to life whenever it suits them. Some Dungeon Masters recoil at the thought of their campaigns getting to such a level, it no longer resembling a game of "scurrilous rogues" in running battles with lizard people while trying to hide a gemstone up their nostril. That's right: it doesn't. High level characters have graduated from such grubby affairs and require larger challenges to test their abilities.

Planar travel becomes an option at high levels, and rightly so...because other planes provide the opportunity for DMs to throw the greatest challenges at PCs. And I'm not just talking encounters with gods and godlings...on other planes, all bets are off with regard to what might be thrown at PCs. Different physics, different rules, screwing with spell effects, reducing or limiting magical abilities. Pocket dimensions and demi-planes provide all sorts of justifications for strange, non-book monsters and unique, fantastic treasures. Q1's problem (in my opinion) isn't one of steam-powered spider ships; rather, it's too many damn bugbears and coin piles...the adventure could be even weirder and stranger than it is (though the demonweb map itself is a rather beautiful thing). Talking about D&D's literary roots, Moorcock's Elric stories provide excellent examples of just how weird and messed up things get when you start skipping around the multiverse...and just how much trouble PCs can get into when their magic and magical items stop functioning the way they're accustomed to on the Prime Material plane.

But that's not low-level stuff. Elric is sometimes accompanied on his extraplanar adventures by low-level characters and (spoiler alert) things usually go very, very badly for them; insanity and death are both par for the course. Which is as it should be. Your high level party isn't going to get any positive results out of taking a small army of men-at-arms into the demonwebs, nor should they. Soldiers have their place in the D&D world, but planar invasions of a demigod's home plane ain't one of them. Such an scenario shouldn't be a place for any character with less than a million experience points. Literally.

Okay, that's enough for Part 2. Part 3 coming up!

[here's Part 1 and Part 1b for those who missed them]

Random D&D Notes

The following thoughts are things I could probably wrap whole posts around, but I've been a little busy lately and (thus) don't know when I'll get to it. Rather than lose these in the ether, I figured I'd just jot them down, perhaps to examine more deeply in the future:

Some great replicas, but
this one was real.

Viking Treasure: had the chance to check out a great exhibit at the Nordic Museum (in the Ballard neighborhood of Seattle) on loan from Uppsala University in Sweden. Called "The Vikings Begin" it was a great collection with a lot of historical information. Didn't know that that the Norse didn't really have a currency before the 10th century or so; they collected coins from their travels, and would still use them for trading (as silver), weighing them with small (portable) scales. Also, silver coins? Really f'ing tiny (about the diameter of a nickel and thinner than a dime), though otherwise fairly uniform across multiple centuries and cultures; the exhibit included English pennies, coins from Charlemagne's Holy Roman Empire, Arabic dinars, and some sort of Russian coin, all dating from the 7th to 9th centuries). Norse people liked to use wealth (gold and jewels) to decorate their stuff, especially weapons and armor.

Viking Shields: really big. Something along the line of Alexis's rule for large shields is appropriate, if a little generous (the +2 versus small missiles in the original DMG might model better; your call, of course).

Magic Swords: I keep wanting to write about this and I keep finding it hard to make the time. Magic swords in Original D&D (and also continued in Holmes Basic) only added their magical bonus to attack rolls, NOT damage. As far as I can tell, this is simply a continuation of the rules for magic swords in CHAINMAIL, the tabletop war-game which doesn't record "damage" anyway: one hit = one kill. Miscellaneous magic weapons, on the other hand, add their bonus to both attack and damage, save in the case of certain weapons (like magic bows). This wasn't changed until the 1st edition of the AD&D Dungeon Masters Guide, where bonuses became universally applied to attack and damage rolls for ALL weapons (including bows), presumably for simplicity and consistency...I can find no other reason/information for the change I've spent the last couple-three days combing through every issue of The Strategic Review and early Dragon magazines leading up to the DMG's release (and afterward) to see if there was mention of this change, finding nothing.

Here's the thing: I actually LIKE the original rule better; I like how it models abstract combat in D&D. Armor does not reduce damage; it prevents damage being inflicted at all. A magical bonus to hit reflects the magic weapon's ability to penetrate the armor. I don't require the weapon to inflict "more grievous wounds" especially as a successful attack roll with a low damage roll can still indicate two parties grappling in fierce melee and thumping each other with fists and feet, while they try to get their blade in position to strike home. Adding a damage bonus to a sword attack means every blow is more likely to have been a killing stroke...and I just don't like that. Leave that to the axes and spears and arrows. I find this is yet another thing I really like about the original game and the Holmes version of Basic.

[also, for some reason, my D&D groups have always played that magic bows do not inflict their bonus to damage. I have no idea why this is, as both the B/X and AD&D rules are clear that magic add their bonus to both attack and damage. Weird....really don't know where we learned to play like that...]

Old School Advancement: And this will be the final thought of this post, as I've got stuff to do. In reading these old magazines, I've found a lot of info, much of it fascinating, insightful, or informative. No, not all of it is great, but there ARE kernels/nuggets of "good stuff" in there, one of which is Gygax's own thoughts and ideas on how advancement was supposed to look in D&D: a successful player who's character participated in 50-70 game sessions per year could expect to reach 9th to 11th level after the first year of gaming, and then another 2-3 levels per year thereafter. At the time he was writing this, his Greyhawk campaign had been going on for four years and Arneson's Blackmoor had been going for five, and he could "definitively" state that no character in either campaign was higher than 14th level...presumably (it isn't explicit) due to a combination of character deaths, energy drain, and retirement from active adventuring. By my calculations, this rate of advancement amounts to a (rough) average of 4,000 experience points per character per session over the course of a year, which seems a little high but perhaps he was still using the pre-Supplement I system when it came to awarding XP for defeated monsters. For certain the article was written prior to the publication of the AD&D books.

[the reason for the high level spells in D&D (which became part of the system with the advent of the Greyhawk/Sup1 booklet) then appears to be neat and/or legendary effects that can be found on scrolls or provided through the good graces (or by paying) of high level NPCs]

I have to admit this seems entirely reasonable rate of advancement to me, and makes old tournament modules like Tomb of Horrors and Lost Caverns of Tsojcanth really look like worthwhile "epic paydays" for adventurers. Tomb of Horrors, especially, finally starts to inspire ambition as it's potential treasure payout is 437,409 g.p. Given that destruction of Acererak is another 100,000 x.p. that's a pretty substantial chunk of advancement for even a large party of adventurers. It really makes me turn up my nose at the paltry 53,035 g.p. one might pull out of White Plume Mountain...though, I suppose the original idea was that players would find the (campaign-wrecking) power of the magical weapons to be reward enough for their endeavor (all later publications/variations of WPM have insisted that the weapons be removed from PCs possession following the adventure).

All right...that's really all I have time for today. Later.

Pendragon Armor in B/X

So I was watching Vikings again last night (and, again, staying up waaaay too late), because of its fascinating portrayal of European cultures in the 8th century. As a product of the History Channel, I expect it to be at least somewhat historically accurate, even if the drama is created for...um...dramatic purposes. But things like the clothes, armor, artwork, village life, religion, politics, law...these are the things I'm interested in and the reason the show draws me.

Well, that and Norsemen hitting people with axes. I love that.

Anyway, the episodes I streamed last night (from the second season) raised some interesting thoughts about the medieval economy...not just monetary economy, but the economy of raiding (ships and men and armies). But in thinking about it, it brought me back to some recent thoughts I'd had...specifically an interest in having a B/X campaign set in the EARLY "middle ages," circa 6th century or 7th century.

[there's a bit more fantasy in this time period (think the film Dragonslayer or the Northern and Southern dynasties of China...the period of the historic Mulan hero), while still having recognizable fighters of the traditional D&D stamp. Hell, even some cities large enough to support thieves of the adventuring type, and characters that would pass for D&D clerics are performing miraculous deeds as well. Even if the setting isn't historic Earth, it's not a bad time period to emulate]

And as those little wheels started turning in my head, including the sticky wicket of economy that I've discussed before (and before that...jeez, another recurring topic), it hit me that I have at least some (again, presumably somewhat researched) economic information from that time period (at least with regard costs): Chaosium's Pendragon, and it's tasty supplement Knights Adventurous.

So it was that between 1ish and 3am last night (well, 2:45, really) I found myself with a bee-in-the-proverbial-bonnet, doing my usual song-and-dance crazy trying to reconcile internet-researched records of historic price lists with game product written by History majors in their spare time.

No need to remind me of the futility in such an exercise; I know the drill. Here's the part that MIGHT interest you: once I eventually circled around to giving up, I spent a good chunk of time converting the 6th century armor types of Pendragon to the B/X system. For your enjoyment (and for future posterity; i.e. so I don't have to do it again), I'll go ahead and post it here. Synchs up pretty well, actually.

[prices will be given as per Pendragon, where one pound (L) = 20 shillings (s) = 240 pennies (d). A campaign set in 6th century Camelot would probably want to change the "gold standard" of B/X to the silver shilling, and so prices will be listed using a shilling base]

Suit of Armor (without padding or helmet)
Leather: 1s, 3d
Cuir bouilli (boiled leather): 5s
"Norman" mail: 15s
Reinforced mail: 80s
Plate and mail: 200s

Helmets
Open helm: 3s, 4d
Great helm: 8s, 4d
Visored helm: 12s, 6d

Padding ("dublet")
Normal: 7d
Fancy: 2s, 1d
Silk, 3 colors: 20s

Armor value (AV) is subtracted from base AC 9 to arrive at the character's armor class.

AV 1: leather, padding, open helm
AV 2: cuir bouilli, closed helm (great or visored)
AV 3: mail with padding
AV 4: plate-and-mail with padding
AV 6: full plate with padding

Typical "Norman" Mail

Norman mail without padding has an AV of 1; both reinforced mail and plate-and-mail have an AV of 2 without padding. Padding is not worn with leather or cuir bouilli. All armors are generally worn with an open helm except reinforced mail and plate-and-mail which are usually worn with a closed (great or visored) helm. Full plate is always worn with a closed helm and padding.

AC Standard Armor Worn 9 None 8 Leather, dublet, or open helm (only) 7 Leather + helm, cuir bouilli 6 Cuir boilli + helm, mail 5 Mail + helm (Norman style), plate-and-mail 4 Mail + closed helm 3 Plate-and-mail + closed helm 2 1 Full plate armor

Plate-and-Mail; AC 3

These would be typical AC values (based on usual type of padding/helmet worn). A shield would, of course, subtract 1 from the listed AC, providing a range of 9 to 0. Please note that no cost is given for "full plate armor" (the typical Milanese variety and similar) because it's not widely available prior to the 15th century; however, in a fantasy world it might be something created by some genius wizard or mad dwarf inventor. As with the author of Pendragon, I provide it here for the sake of "completeness."
: )

Bearding the Tiger...er, Lion

Tuesday night, I was fortunate enough to be able to play D&D again...for the first time in years.

Jeez. That's not really what I want to write about, but take a moment for that to sink in. Just looking at the sentence brings up a whole lot of conflicting feelings.

I had actually expected to get some gaming in next month (August) because my kids were going to be in Paraguay with mom for the last three weeks of summer, and I was going to have a bunch of free evenings. Fortunately/unfortunately, the trip fell through due to my wife's work obligations, so...well, shit. But on Tuesday GusL was running a playtest of his Viking rules for the HMS Appolyon through something called "Google Hangouts" and I got an invite to the game, so I decided to join.

And I did...kids jumped on my laptop a bit before I settled 'em down with some television in the other room (an example of my wonderful parenting skills...ordered 'em a pizza for dinner, too). But I got to game for a couple hours, in a very cool campaign setting, with a very thoughtful DM whose creativity I respect immensely. Plus Vikings! Man, I loves me some Vikings. Mix that up with the "Stranger in a Strange Land" trope (our lost-at-sea longship floating up against the insanely massive, steampunk ship-dungeon that is Appolyon), and you've got yourself a very good time indeed.

Anyway...fun, fun. And while my character did get turned into a tiny gold figurine because of a magic trap and a failed saving throw, I got to hit things with an (imaginary) axe and stomp around in big (imaginary) boots, kicking down doors and stuff. Going a-Viking suits my personality quite nicely.

Which leads me to the topic of this post: namely, folks who not liking to put their boot in...for fear some hidden tiger is going to bite their foot off.

Yeah, yeah...I realize I'm eliciting a WTF moment from a bunch of readers. I'm talking about something Alexis was describing in one of his recent posts, Confidence Abounds. The essay describes what "confidence" is (briefly: surety, not courage or ego) and how confidence (or lack thereof) can sometimes manifest in gaming, both as a DM and a player.

And ONE of those ways is a player's conviction...their confidence...that there's a tiger (or similar deathtrap) just lurking there, waiting to do them in. Even in campaigns run with low rigidity (i.e. a more open, sandbox-y type campaign) that would otherwise attempt to encourage player agency and initiative and creativity. Players become stymied in their decision-making, laboring under the fear that the axe is just waiting to drop at their first misstep.

Yes, it's out there. So what?

Now I realize that there are some players for whom this is a preferred style of play...players who like approaching a D&D scenario with all the dutiful care of an archeologist, cautiously brushing the dust away with a small whisk so as not to destroy some fragile piece of ancient pottery; the "fragile piece" in this case being the player's character. For me, this isn't terribly fun...neither as a player, nor as a DM. When playing D&D, I prefer my archaeology a bit more Indiana Jones...some bold swinging into action and a pulpy disregard for one's fictional life and limb. That's the kind of adventure I want from a fantasy adventure game...it's the reason I play D&D (when I get a chance!). In real life, I'm a fairly cautious individual. After all, I've got two little kids depending on me.

But in a game, I can get away with acting fairly brazen...and so I do, as much as I can. I often restrain myself (a bit) for the sake of other players, but I'm sure that some find me a little too "gung ho" at times. Even so, my survival rate is pretty good, helped immensely by thirty+ years of DM'ig experience. I've got a pretty good head for the numbers and playing the odds, and a fairly good nose for sniffing out bullshit.

[that magic trap was something I should have avoided fairly easily, but I was distracted at the moment it came up by a pair of small children clamoring for my attention]

So I'm not terribly worried about tigers lurking in the bushes. Even if there is one (just to take an analogy too far), I'd prefer my character to go down fighting the tiger, then to spend a bunch of my precious gaming time worrying that my paper character is going to die. It took me longer to decide on a suitably Norse-sounding name than it took me to roll up my PC.

And anyway, one of the things I've found in the last decade or so of gaming (since getting back into the D&D hobby) is that DMs have a tendency to be pretty soft on players. It's like they have the opposite problem of these players who fear the hidden tiger. They are sure (i.e. "confident") that playing Old School D&D...with its lack of healing surges and death saves...means that a Total Party Kill is just waiting to happen. And they lack confidence in the party's ability to deal with legitimate threats in a reasonable fashion.

I don't know...maybe I've just been "fortunate" in the draw of DMs I've had (Gus said his last play-test involved a giant demon monster that wiped out everyone in the first encounter, but I wasn't there for that one). What I do know is that, other than Tuesday night, I've only lost TWO characters to death in a D&D game in the last ten or so years...and one of those was a character that chose to die in order to give the rest of the party the time they needed to escape a nest of troglodytes.

[the other character was a 1st level illusionist who ate an orc arrow and only had a couple hit points...no big loss]

I think Alexis is correct in surmising that most of us have been conditioned from our formative years of gaming to expect to be tiger-bitten by the game. That early adventure modules...our examples of what D&D is/was supposed to look like...are particularly unforgiving SOBs, character killers, and deathtraps. And, no, I'm not just talking about The Tomb of Horrors. The Keep on the Borderlands, about which I've written many times, has killed more player characters than any other adventure module I've used over the years...and I've run Tomb at least four or five times. The Isle of Dread is probably (a distant) second. Other adventure modules...like The Lost Caverns of Tsojcanth or Tomb of the Lizard King are notable (to me) for having caused TPKs in a single run...and fairly early in the game. And White Plume Mountain? My last large group to go through that one played very cautiously (over multiple sessions) and were still wiped out, almost to a man.

These early experiences are what give us our surety that the tiger is out there (in the case of DMs, this tiger is a TPK and our sad-faced players having "no fun" for the night). And perhaps it IS out there. D&D is ridiculously lethal when played as written; you can sneeze a hole in a 1st level player character. Gygax's own house rules started PCs at 3rd level, and this to me is fairly adequate across the board: three hit dice worth of hit points, three spells for magic-users (two for clerics), and a 10% bump on most thief skills is a perfectly reasonable starting point if you want to cut-down on the random insta-kill.

But even if the tiger is there, do you want to play tentatively? Do you (as a DM) want to stock that first level of the dungeon with 1-2 hit point monsters that can't hit chain-and-shield armor? Don't we want our players (on both sides of the DM screen) to have enough confidence in the PC's survivability that we can approach D&D with the gusto and verve of the pulp fantasy that inspired the game? Or do we prefer to embolden our players by instituting rules that all-but-take death off the table: plentiful healing, death saves, "shields will be splintered," etc.?

I'm certainly not what I'd call an academic when it comes to D&D. I'm an enthusiast. But even if I can't raise my writing to academic standards, it doesn't mean I'm not interested in having a discussion in how to make the game a better experience...a grander experience...for its players. ALL its players (including the DMs). How we can grab the tiger by the tail and ride that sonuvagun. Or something.

[***EDIT: Alexis just posted a follow-up essay that has some suggestions/methodology for evaluating your campaign...assuming you're a Dungeon Master...to somewhat mitigate players' over-indulgence in tiger fear. Another good read...check it out***]

Anyway. I had a lot of fun playing D&D the other night. I hope I get the chance to do it again in the near future.
: )

Hillfolk (Robin D. Laws)

With the second season of Vikings starting, my mind turns to axe-wielding maniacs in longships pillaging the English coastline. Briefly, I considered the idea of creating a B/X setting based in large part on the show (adding fantasy elements, of course), but however interesting exploration/exploitation is, that's not really the focus of the show. Rather, what's important is the relationship between the characters and how those relationships intersect (and often conflict) with the characters' desires and ambitions. B/X is not a great vehicle for that type of role-playing.

But Hillfolk by Robin D. Laws is perfect.

I picked up Hillfolk in January (I think)...shortly before things started getting really hectic around the home front. I own several games written (or co-written) by Laws, including Over The Edge, Pantheon, Feng Shui, Hero Wars, Ashen Stars, Mutant City Blues, and the Dying Earth RPG. Most fall into the category of "games-owned-but-never-played;" the only ones I have played are Over The Edge and Pantheon, and only OTE more than once...mainly because no one I know is interested in them. Sure, I may not do a great job selling 'em to people...but whatever. Point is, I like Laws's games, I have a lot of respect for his work and his designs, and I have put more money into his pockets than I have with any other designer, save Gygax, Siembieda, and Mark Rein-Hagen.

[ooo...that's kind o sad when you think about it!]

Spear-chucking with purpose!

Hillfolk uses a new system (the DramaSystem) to cut right to the chase of where long-term RPGs eventually end up: a soap opera of clashing personalities. That may sound less-than-complimentary, but I don't know a more succinct (and yet positive) way to describe it. The point of the system is to play the emotional exchanges that occur between people in tightly-knit (clan) relationships. The default setting is a small group of Iron Age villagers (hunter-warrior types) just on the borders of the "civilized" clashing empires. Consider perhaps a pre-Conan look at Cimmerian life, and how the people of the village get along in the face of internal politics, familial ties, and external threats.

Like Fiasco, PCs are created together and are defined (in part) by their relationships with each other: specifically what they want emotionally (and what they're unlikely to get) from each other. Unlike Fiasco, the characters also have some practical stats (for doing things like fighting and whatnot) and inner drives that color the ways they go about seeking their emotional "payoffs;" also, Hillfolk uses a GM, unlike Fiasco...though with a little thought, I don't think it would have been too tough to push it into the realm of collaborative role-playing.

Also, like Fiasco, the default setting is only a jumping off point...the game mechanics easily translate into other close-knit, tribal (or tribe-like) structures. Only one-third of Hillfolk's 230 pages is devoted to the system and its basic, Iron Age setting. The rest of the book is additional settings in which to use the DramaSystem, including a rural moonshining family, the Aztec empire during the coming of the Spanish, a support group for recovering "mad scientists," Spanish patriots fighting the Franco's fascists, a colony of humans on Mars, and the henchmen of a low-powered super villain. In all, there are thirty additional settings with players taking the form of everything from robots to pirates to irks to faeries at war with Victorian England. It's easy enough to come up with new settings: the key ingredients are simply small group facing external odds/adversity, while dealing with the normal group dynamic of clan. Hillfolk does the kind of thing OrkWorld wanted to do, but doesn't pussyfoot around with it, cutting right to the heart of the matter with its system.

I assume, anyway...I haven't actually played Hillfolk.

Back when I was a kid/pre-teen, I played in a looooong-running AD&D campaign, one that lasted several years. It eventually got to the point that "actual adventures" weren't as interesting to our high level characters as our own agendas, schemings, intrigues, and romances; if we killed some trolls in a session, it was usually a very minor part of whatever else was going on (internally) with our "characters." I've written before that I've never managed to reproduce this kind of D&D experience (a very fun one), because such an experience only developed organically after years of play, bushing the boundaries of the system, exploring the end game of high level play, and developing trust and intimacy within our gaming group. Hillfolk produces this kind of play without the need to sit around the gaming table for years. If this is the kind of gaming experience you long for, you might want to check it out.

One more interesting thing about Hillfolk: back before I started experiencing the burnout that led me to look at GM-less RPGs, I was working on an even simpler fantasy adventure game, that more emulated a literary/folktale type genre over the D&D mold of "treasure-seeking delvers" and one of the things I was looking at was mechanics regarding character motivation/desire, internal obstacles to that desire, and player created statements of who the PC is...like a ritualized, "this is the story of (blank) who seeks to do X, Y, and Z." Hillfolk does all this, mimicking in many ways the very structures I was implementing. The difference is Laws does this to get to the emotional exchange between players in a system devoted to emotional exchange...while I was still trying to figure out how to mechanically impact an "adventure game." The end result: his works and mine was struggling mightily (to the point where I mostly ignored the systems in actual play-testing, instead simply allowing such signs to stand as guidelines for "how to play your character;" lame!). Seeing the system in print (and the way it works) really took the wind out of my sails!

Anyhoo, Hillfolk...like most of Laws's games...is quite innovative and interesting, and may be the best offering I've yet seen from Pelgrane Press (I like GUMSHOE and Dying Earth, but they are still a little too clunky for my taste...damn skill systems!). It's not something I'd want to play all the time, but it's certainly something I'd like to play.

Probably with a Vikings setting, though.
; )

Church of the Axe

As many of my readers know, much to my shame, I’m a bit of a TV watcher. Why “to my shame?” Because, like video games, television can be an unforgivable time suck that isolates one from the world and people around you, and yet does not allow the mind or body to rest. Of course video games can be actually ACTIVE and ENGAGING…the television just force feeds your brain whatever the producers deem appropriate.

I realize that’s a bit harsh, and that watching some television shows can actually stimulate conversation or become a “group-bonding” activity…like sporting events or the Academy Awards…and that other shows on television can be educational, inspiring, and teach us things about life, ourselves, and others. But that’s not usually the case. Fact is, there’s a lot of crap on TV…and watching a guy shoot arrows into bad guys while his sister bangs the local meth head (that’s the basic plot of Arrow) isn’t doing a lot for MY brain except providing some fun, superhero-style entertainment.

It is what it is, folks.

Yet, intellectual snob that I am, I can usually hold myself down to just a handful of “regular” shows (thank God we got rid of HBO! Prior to the birth of our child we were watching pretty much everything they were putting out)...and the occasional (terrible, terrible) Mariners game. And (besides Arrow) I try to limit myself to shows of the “quality” variety…Downton Abbey and Mad Men, for example, or Parks and Rec (for funny). Such “sitcom crack” as Friends and Sex and the City have fallen by the wayside.

But now I’ve got Vikings.

Gosh, what a great show! I was up till 2am the other night catching up on the most recent episodes…and to put that it in perspective, my dogs get me up anywhere between 4:30 and 5:30am every morning, rain or shine, weekends or work days (on week days I usually go back to bed until 6ish, when I get up to ready myself for a 7am start time). Sleep is at a premium in my home (it’s not often I get to bed before midnight most days), and my main luxury these days is taking a two or three hour “power nap” on the weekends when my son is having his daily siesta…assuming I don’t need to run errands or blog or write books or something.

But for Vikings…well, it’s “axe crack” people. And I’ve blogged before of my love of axes.

Vikings is a new show airing on the History Channel, and is pretty much better and more interesting than any single television drama currently airing on TV, with the exception of Mad Men. It has great acting, great writing, and beautiful production value…and damn if it isn’t pretty damn historically accurate (I say this as an amateur armchair historian of Norse culture, so take that with a grain of salt). And it’s different…O so different…from any Viking show or film I’ve ever seen. I mean, it takes pains to really try to portray the mindset of 8^th century Norse culture.

[BTW: I know the show has received some criticism for being historically INACCURATE with regard to clothing and the Danes lack of knowledge of “the West”…that’s not what I’m referring to. Just hang with me for a bit, okay?]

The show depicts the life and exploits of Ragnar Lodbrok, one of the most famous heroes of the (real life) Norse sagas, including everything from his family life to his raiding expeditions to his political rivalries. For myself, the series is most fascinating because of its portrayal of the Norse personality. Often, Vikings in film are simply cardboard berserkers or violent thugs or parodies…individuals with modern, western values that just happen to do the barbarian thing for a job (think of the Capitol One commercials, or the characters portrayed in the film Erik the Viking). It’s like Scottish highlanders…the concept has been so romanticized and caricatured over the years that it’s difficult to find a historically accurate depiction of their brain. Vikings, I feel, does a better job of this than anything I’ve ever seen.

Not a nice man.

Ragnar, for example, is the hero of the show. Ragnar has all the classic virtues of the Norse people: he is courageous, he is clever, he is honorable, he is dutiful to his family. He is also a complete raging asshole and murderous bastard by our present standards. Let there be no discussion about it…the Norsemen had a real “us/them” mentality, and sailing into someone’s country and butchering unarmed folks (not to mention raping and pillaging) was all considered “fair play.” Ragnar is not a very nice person, at all and in his culture there really is a premium value placed on strength…Ragnar and his crew have nothing but contempt for the weaklings they raid, and Ragnar holds the loyalty of his men first and foremost due to having proven himself a strong warrior. His ambition and cunning combine to elevate him above his station of birth, but his brethren would not follow him for these reasons alone (his ability to get them rich plunder is a definite plus towards earning their loyalty and respect as well). At times, he exhibits a degree of compassion and curiosity that marks him different from his fellows…it’s obvious that he is unusual and marked for greatness…but neither one of these traits trump his “Norse nature;” when it’s time to fight there’s no hesitation.

At the same time, the Norse are more than just axe-wielding maniacs. They have a great sense of humor, a great sense of pride, that practicality and peculiar melancholy that marks Scandinavians even today…and an intense reverence for their own gods and religion. Man, it is so refreshing to see, when so much of today’s “historical fiction” films and shows tend to gloss over or ignore religion.  For most of our history, humans have lived in worshipful fear and awe of our God or gods…something conveniently forgotten in our production of otherwise high quality, historical films.

[as an aside, this is why I find the recent Clash of the Titans remake so incredibly stupid. The idea some Greek, even a hero like Perseus, would dare stand in defiance of the gods? Utterly asinine in a film full of asinine bullshit]

Vikings (the show) doesn’t ignore the fact that humans have ambition, nor that they are as prone to foibles and frailty as we ever have been, but the underpinning of the earth and reality is the divine, and it’s something that needs to be respected at all costs. Prayer…whether to Odin or to Christ (Christians are well represented on the other side)…is often-used, both in supplication and thanksgiving, and while the heathens may question the validity of the Christian God as much as the Christians condemn Odin, neither side dares profane their OWN religion.

There’s a great bit in the most recent episode wherein one of Ragnar’s men agrees to be baptized so that the English feel more comfortable bargaining with the heathens (the English are trying to pay off the Norsemen to leave them alone). Rollo, Ragnar’s brother agrees to do so, mostly for expedience…he doesn’t actually believe in the Christian God and considers the whole thing a joke. However, when it’s pointed out that his “joke” is probably an affront to Odin (if not outright blasphemy), he quakes in mortal terror…and Rollo is a big guy and pretty bright and ambitious besides. Here's the thing: for a culture that believed in heaven as “Valhalla,” snubbing Odin is a good way to get yourself left behind…plus, the concepts of “divine blessing” in the old Norse culture really boiled down to “being lucky” and he might have felt he’d just signed up for a big heaping helping of bad luck.

To make up for it, Rollo goes apeshit the next time he has a chance to kill some Christians.

Much of the action of Vikings takes place in the old English kingdom of Northumbria, where they happily pillage and raid, and unlike other Viking-centric shows, the people of England are given plenty of time in the program as well…these aren’t faceless victims, cardboard extras existing only to be axe-fodder for the program's protagonists. Neither are they set-up as simple “antagonists” to “heroic Ragnar” nor “poor me Christians” falling to the Viking swords. Again, the series attempts to treat them in the same neutral light…they have their Christian humility and piety, but they also have their selfishness and arrogance. The king of Northumbria offs a guard captain that failed him (in Darth Vader-like style), but tries to rescue his brother from the clutches of the Vikings, and he exhibits his own cunning and ruthlessness (only fitting, since the sagas say he's the one that eventually kills Ragnar). Religion again comes to the forefront: King Aelle is not Henry the VIII to throw off the dominion of Rome and start up the Anglican Church…back in the 8^th century there was only ONE “holy, Catholic, and apostolic church” and you were going to HELL if you didn’t do your time on Sunday (a fact rudely exploited by Ragnar in one of his early raids).

There’s another good bit where the English lords are debating whether or not the Vikings have been sent by God as punishment, or by the devil as a trial, or are simply barbarous men, and the ANSWER to that question is IMPORTANT to how they deal with and respond to the threat (this is part of the reason for the baptism deal). When they invite the  Norsemen to dine, they are affronted that the Vikings dig-in to the victuals without waiting for grace to be said, and the contrast is stark between the two cultures. And yet the English king praying at his chapel for strength and guidance is no different from the Vikings' earl praying at a shrine to his gods in an earlier episode. These are not just religious “touches” like the scant attention paid to the gods in Ridley Scott’s film Gladiator…this is a statement of the way these people were: devout, reverent, concerned with the fates God (or the gods) had set in store for them, doing what they could (through their bishops or shamans) to determine what their deities’ Divine Will was.

Because that was important. If you come from a culture that believes God is All-Powerful, than you better try to figure out what He wants for you…otherwise, you’re likely to misstep and get yourself and/or your family/tribe all bloodied and butchered. It was yet another hurdle in a life already fraught with uncertainty and danger…a hard life of war and suffering and starvation. A shared spirituality was part of the foundation of a community (in addition to language and cuisine).

I’ve been reading up on Joan of Arc (again) with an eye towards continuing my series on subclasses and filters (I think ol’ Saint Joan makes a good model for the paladin class…along with Roland and Galahad). The fact that she was entrusted with leading the French army in battle as a PEASANT GIRL is amazing, no matter how eloquent or charismatic a speaker she might have been. Even winning a few battles, or being brave enough to lead the charge from the forefront, isn’t incentive enough (IMO) to say, 'okay, the Maid of Orleans can be our general.' It speaks volumes to A) the inherent spirituality and faith of the culture coupled with B) Joan's ability to convince that culture (including the worldly king, lords, and fighting men) that she was an actual instrument of that God and faith. And that was the 15^th century…several centuries removed from the ("less sophisticated") time period of Ragnar and Co.

Do folks see where I’m going with this? This is, of course, a gaming blog…not a religious blog, nor a television blog, nor a Viking blog (though people might be forgiven for mistaking it for the latter). And in fantasy role-playing games, especially D&D, there is a tendency to secularize even our pseudo-medieval fantasy worlds. “Oh, yeah, there are gods…that’s where the cleric gets his powers. But I don’t have to worry about that aspect of the game world.” You don’t? Why not? What “divine right” gives your fantasy world ruler the authority to be king? You better find out if you want your character to be king someday, otherwise you’ll never be more than a pretender. What power do you think it is chooses whether or not your adventure ends in success or terrible, terrible death?

Even if you, personally, don’t believe in creationism, what better setting for a radical, supernatural means of world creation than the setting of a fantasy RPG? Even if you, yourself, don’t believe in the power of God and fate, why wouldn’t your character? Part of role-playing is playing a role, right? If Ragnar the axe murderer can say the occasional prayer or make appropriate sacrifice or find reverence for the rituals of his culture, why can’t Bork the Barbarian or Roderick the Fighter or Zimsum the Magic-User?

There are, of course, other things to be taken from the Vikings television show for use in a role-playing game: examples of adventuring, of how people with high moral character/integrity can still be villainous rogues in action, examples of "what we're doing this all for anyway" (family, personal ambition, romance, etc.), as well as how to handle political intrigue and inter-party conflict...interestingly, the latter are both handled the same.

With an axe.

: )

Land of Ice (PC Information, Part 2)

[continued from here]

CHARACTER CLASSES

As stated there are seven class choices in LAND OF ICE. The northmen (the descendents of those space wanderers that crashed so long ago) who choose a life of adventure fall into one of five classes: Fighter, Huntsman, Magician, Skald, and Thief. There are also two non-human classes players can choose for their characters: Dvergr and Alfr. Non-human adventurers do not exhibit the same variety of focus as the northmen; as such, all dvergar share the same capabilities, as do all alfar.


FIGHTERS

Most northmen adventurers are warriors and many warriors of the northmen race style themselves as adventurers. As explained in the Introduction, the northmen valorize martial prowess and most children receive at least some training in the use of arms for the defense of the community. Fighters, though, are professional warriors who do nothing but train for battle.

Fighter Advantages: Fighters roll D8 per level to determine hit points. Fighters receive a bonus to melee attack rolls equal to their level. Due to their training, fighters receive an additional +1 bonus to AC when using a shield. Fighters are decisive in combat, and receive a bonus to their initiative when fighting in single combat ONLY; this bonus is lost in group combat as the fighter must coordinate his efforts with his companions.

Fighter Limitations: Fighters are expected to be bold in battle, and seek out combat. They lose honor for being cowardly in battle, which penalizes their earned experience points. See Chapter 4 for information on honor. Fighters may achieve a maximum of 5th level of experience.

HUNTSMEN

Some northmen live outside the community by choice; they do not mix well with their fellows, or they simply prefer a life of solitude in the wilderness. They may still have good relations with nearby settlements, trading the product of their labor (hunting, trapping, and fishing) for crafts they are unable to manufacture themselves. They are used to operating alone, and can provide valuable skills in the wilderness.

Huntsman Advantages: Huntsmen roll D6 per level to determine hit points. Huntsmen receive a bonus to attack rolls with ranged attacks equal to their level. They can travel very quietly and make good use of cover in the wilderness (being detected only 20% of the time, and surprising opponents on a 4 in6 chance), but only when operating independently or with other huntsmen.

Huntsman Limitations: Huntsmen lose their stealth abilities if wearing armor heavier than leather (any type of mail, for example). Huntsmen are expected to be rugged and self-sufficient. They lose honor for relying on other for help, which penalizes their earned experience points. See Chapter 4 for information on honor. Huntsmen may achieve a maximum of 5th level of experience.

MAGICIANS

Some northmen are born with a measure of psychic ability, genetic gifts that tend to run in particular families and bloodlines (especially those whose ancestors mixed with the native alfar). Those who develop these abilities, called seidhr, are viewed with equal measures of awe and suspicion by most northmen, but there is no denying the power they grow to wield.

Magician Advantages: All magicians are trained in the seidhr crafts and use “magic” as described in Chapter 3: Psychic Powers.

Magician Limitations: Magicians are expected to hold themselves aloof from “mundane affairs” and lose honor for being interested or mired in “baser” concerns (greed, romance, politics, etc.). Likewise, there is an expectation that magicians will rely on their magical abilities for their advantage; wearing armor like a warrior or using other mundane equipment can also result in a loss of honor for a mage, costing him in earned experience. See Chapter 4 for information on honor. Magicians may achieve a maximum of 5th level of experience.

SKALDS

Skalds are a combination of scholar, poet, and musician. They are responsible for chronicling the history of the northmen people, keeping record by memory, and sharing that history through story-telling and song. Many are wanderers that take tales from one settlement to another, recounting legends and learning new ones. Others reside in a single location, keeping the history of the place, and passing it on to both residents and visitors. Skalds occupy a place of honor in northman society second only to warriors.

Skald Advantages: Skalds roll D6 per level to determine hit points. Skalds can expect to enjoy hospitality (food, drink, and lodging) from any northmen encountered, and are generally considered “neutral” (even in wartimes) until proven otherwise by their actions. They receive an additional +1 bonus when making reaction rolls. Skalds have a chance to recall or know useful information on most any subject, checked by rolling their level or less on a D6. A skald can sing the exploits of his travelling companions, earning all party members a bonus to earned XP of +2% per level of the skald, so long as the skald survives the adventure (the skald herself does not receive the bonus).

Skald Limitations: Skalds must have a stringed musical instrument (cost: 4gm) to identify their trade. In exchange for hospitality, skalds are expected to entertain their host. Failing to do so can cost the skald honor, which penalizes her earned experience points. See Chapter 4 for information on honor. Skalds may achieve a maximum of 5th level of experience.

THIEVES

Not all northmen have the disposition for fighting, the skill of the skald, the ruggedness of the hunter, or the mental discipline of the magician, and yet still aspire to something more than the simple life of a farmer or craftsman. Such individuals are called thieves, for they seek to win fame and fortune not rightly theirs. To the northmen’s perspective such should be the reward of honest effort, not opportunist action.

Thief Advantages: Thieves roll D6 per level to determine hit points. Thieves add +1 pee level to attack rolls made against an opponent who is caught unawares. They can perform bits of petty larceny (picking pockets, jimmying locks, concealing objects, etc.) by rolling equal to or less than their level on a D6 roll. Thieves enjoy more than their fair share of luck to make it as adventurers; they may reroll a number of dice per game session equal to their level (for example, a 3rd level thieve can reroll up to three times during a game session). Any dice roll the thief’s player has made may be rerolled, but the result of the second roll must be accepted (i.e. it cannot be re-rerolled).

Thief Limitations: Thieves receive a -1 penalty to reaction rolls with northmen due to their poor reputation. Thieves may achieve a maximum of 5th level of experience.

ALFAR

The alfar are an indigenous species to the planet, and have been in the world far longer than the northmen. Immortal unless killed and inherently psychic, the alfar resemble northmen in many ways, but they are tall, slim, and exceedingly beautiful in appearance.

Alfr Advantages: Alfar roll D6 per level to determine hit points. The alfar enjoy the same psychic abilities as a trained magician (see Chapter 3: Psychic Powers). While not a particularly martial race, all alfar are trained to defend themselves against a hostile world and have many years of practice; they enjoy a +1 bonus to attack rolls (melee or missile). Alfar are telepathic and can freely communicate mind-to-mind with any creature they can see (though most animals have little to say); over the centuries, they have also learned the northmen’s language and can speak this as well. An alfr has especially keen senses and enjoys a +1 bonus to notice things; they are only surprised on a roll of 1.

Alfr Limitations: Alfar may achieve a maximum of 4th level of experience. Player characters must have an intelligence score of 9 or better to play an alfr.

DVERGAR

The dvergar species was genetically engineered long before the northmen ever came into this realm. While diminutive (about half the height of the northmen), they are strong for their size, fully as capable as taller adventurers. Exceptionally long-lived, the dvergar are also exceedingly clever, especially with machines and smithing. They tend to live in the mountains, closer to scarce sources of metal, for use in their crafts and wares. Their small size makes them ideal spelunkers. They speak the same language as the northmen. They have no natural psychic talent.

Dvergr Advantages: Dvergar roll D6 per level to determine hit points. Their genetic engineering makes them a hearty race, and they receive an additional +2 hit points per level. In addition, a dvergr has natural healing abilities that allow them to recover damage at double the normal rate, and they will eventually heal even major wounds; see Chapter 5 for information on damage and healing. All dvergar are excellent smiths and craftsmen, dvergar with an intelligence of 13 or greater have the ability to manufacture machines that function like “magic.” They have excellent senses of smell and hearing and a good directional sense; dvergar are never lost underground.

Dvergr Limitations: As stated, Dvergar never develop psychic talents even with an intelligence greater than 13. They receive a -1 penalty to reaction rolls with northmen. Dvergar may achieve a maximum of 4th level of experience. Player characters must have a constitution of 9 or better to play a dvergr.

Land of Ice (Introduction)

If the gods are finally helpless before evil, men and women must be more so. The heroes and heroines of the early stories face disaster… This is the conception of life which underlies the Norse religion, as somber a conception as the mind of man has ever given birth to. The only sustaining support possible for the human spirit, the one pure unsullied good men can hope to attain, is heroism; and heroism depends on lost causes. The hero can prove what he is only by dying. The power of good is shown not by triumphantly conquering evil, but by continuing to resist evil while facing certain defeat.

From Edith Hamilton’s Mythology, The Mythology of the Norsemen

When is a legend legend? Why is a myth a myth? How old and disused must a fact be for it to be relegated to the category “Fairy-Tale?” And why do certain facts remain incontrovertible while others lose their validity to assume a shabby, unstable character?

From the introduction to Anne McCaffrey’s Dragonflight


We come from the land of the ice and snow,
From the midnight sun where the hot springs blow.
The hammer of the gods will drive our ships to new lands,
To fight the horde, singing and crying: Valhalla, I am coming!

Led Zeppelin The Immigrant Song

***

They will tell you they are descended from the gods, but this is not true.

They will tell you their ancestors came to this world by design, but this is a half-truth at best.

They will tell you their divine forefathers came from another realm beyond the sky, crossing the gulf between worlds in a ship of immense proportion and grand design, bringing with them the people that would populate the world, and this is accurate…though perhaps not in the way the skalds imagine.

They came from another world, fleeing fire and death, pursued by their hated enemy, the Jotun. They crossed the vastness of space travelling within the nothingness, that place between the icy emptiness of space and the fiery blaze of the stars, finding a way their pilots could navigate using their evolved minds and ability to sense beyond the physical. To this world they came, finding it a restful respite from the pursuit that hunted them for so long.

But it was never their plan to stay for long. The world was too metal poor for their purposes. Yes, there was gold and silver to be mined, useful in ritual and technology as well as decoration, but the harder metals – those needed for machinery, weapons, and space travel – these were conspicuously absent. Even poor iron was scarce except in the frozen mountains, extremely difficult to procure. And while there were gemstones to be had, the crystals they relied on as both power source and mental focus were nowhere to be found. No, they could not stay on this world.

But there were those that dissented from the opinion. The crew members of a more spiritual bent felt the world could be a new home, a fresh start, leaving the mistakes of the past behind. The stark, cold landscape had a pristine beauty that was a marked contrast from the extravagance of their former realm…and its very lack of distraction proved conducive to the exploration of psychic powers they hoped to develop, though their fellows mocked them for their vanity.

But these vanir (as they came to be known) were simply non-cooperative and apathetic; others took more direct action to sabotage the mission. The genetically engineered technicians of the ship had long felt their life as one of virtual slavery to their creators. With the opportunity of landfall, the dvergar (so they are called) found a way to shirk their yoke and escape into the hills, absconding with materials and equipment necessary for the repair and operation of the craft…including the focus crystals of the pilots.

Effectively hamstrung by this defection, the remaining crew members, organized by their captain, set-off for the south and warmer climate, seeking to escape death at the hands of the encroaching winter. The vanir elected to stay with the ship, having made contact with the native sentient species; a humanoid race of ethereal beauty, the newcomers called them “alfar,” though they had no name for themselves. A telepathic race, they and the vanir shared an interest in the development of their psychic potential, and over the next many years would work together to create the seidhr crafts. They would also find that the two species were physically compatible with one another, and children born of both races soon appeared, further rooting the immigrants in their new world.

Meanwhile, the remaining newcomers attempted to carve out a home in a fierce wilderness, using the tools and weapons of their former world. It wasn’t long before they realized the hope of rebuilding their technologically advanced civilization was a lost cause. The resources they’d brought were finite, and the environment yielded no replacements, especially the fuel and energy needed for their greatest machines. Much of their might was expended against the native animal life, deadly and predatory in nature, as well as combating the elements, which proved exceptionally hazardous. The rotation of the planet led to exceptionally long, cold winters and the erratic moons created erratic tides along the coast of the southern sea, to go with the hurricane strength winds. Blizzards out of the mountains and permafrost where mining might otherwise yield valuable mineral resources made it clear that taming the planet to their own purpose would be a losing proposition.

Still under the leadership of their captain, it was decided that a last push would be made to gather and unite the crewmembers and attempt to get off-world before their diminishing resources forever marooned them on a hostile world. Mustering their strength, they marched back to the north and to war with the vanir who, by this time, had no interest in returning to the stars. Even with the aid of their psychic powers and their alfar allies, the vanir were no match for the well-armed and organized crew members, and the vanir were forced to capitulate.

The victory proved to be a hollow one. Knowing the captain’s next step would be to root out the dvergar mutineers and force them to return the piloting crystals, the last of the vanir resistance did the unthinkable, destroying the bridge and piloting controls of the ship, permanently stranding the star-travelers in the new world.

A pragmatic man as said, the captain took stock of what was and put away the dream of returning to space. He ordered the cannibalization of the ship and organized the building of the newcomers permanent settlement. Envoys were sent to the dvergar, who declined to return to the crew (being wary of once again becoming servants) but pacts and agreements were reached for mutual benefit, and peaceful trade precedents were set.

On the other hand, the alfar had no interest in joining with the newly reunited crew, feeling those in positions of power were far too warlike and aggressive compared to the peaceful vanir (with whom they continued some relations). They removed themselves farther north into the mountains, and endeavored to have as little contact with the immigrants as possible.

The alfar blood continued to circulate within the population, however, often accompanied by a strong, natural psychic potential. The crafts (seidhr training) were still taught within the settlement, especially among the descendents of the vanir, but it was often viewed with suspicion as “sorcery.”

A new culture evolved among the colonists, one in which martial prowess was held the greatest virtue, and where pragmatism and acceptance of fate to be the preferred outlook on life. Courage was valued above cleverness…especially in the face of so many dangers (environmental and predatory)…after all, the courageous individual is more likely to save many while the clever individual seeks mainly to save himself. True or not, it is the way the newcomers have come to look at the world being correct more often than not.

Because of this, one’s honor and one’s oath need be defended at all costs, otherwise showing an individual as a weakling and a coward. As the centuries have passed, and the once star-faring race has become the equivalent of a medieval, feudal society, and such a reputation is enough to ostracize an person, possibly leading him to become a true outcast, forced to live a life of banditry outside the warmth of the communal halls.

Far better to die a hero than live such a life of shame. Far better to seek glory and fail than to seek comfort and ease. Such an individual as would do the latter is of little use to their clan, considering a hostile world where every able-bodied person is needed to ensure the survival of all. Life is harsh; accept it and prepare to meet it, axe in hand.

Welcome to the LAND OF ICE.