Maps And Distance

Driving home from Montana this weekend...a return trip I was making for the third time in the year 2023...I was again struck with wonder by the majestic landscape that stretches along Interstate 90, from the Gem State of Idaho to the Cascade Mountain range. Just incredible vistas of rolling hills and rocky cliffs, forests and mountains, the Gorge, the mighty Columbia, and miles and miles of nothing between the small towns and communities.

Per my Google Maps, the total distance between Missoula and my home in Seattle is approximately 484 miles, in a (more-or-less) straight line, along a well-maintained highway. About 24 days of hiking, if one considers a 20 mile per day march of the typical D&D party. That's a long, long distance.

I use the Pacific Northwest as the setting for AD&D campaign these days. While I've probably mentioned (many times) that I'm rather terrible at drawing maps...especially wilderness or "outdoor" maps...what I probably have not mentioned is that since switching over to actual (real world) geography, I don't even bother trying to do "hex maps." Never was much good at them anyway, and thanks to Ye Old Google Earth, I can chart distances just fine with the laptop and an internet connection. And with those distances (and being able to zoom in on the terrain) I can calculate travel times, resource depletion, wandering encounter rolls, etc.

Who needs hexes?

But here's the thing...the real thing: I know "hex crawling" is a thing: so many internet videos and blog posts discussing it, talking about best practices, extolling the virtues of using hexes to have "true" "sandbox" (i.e. open world) play. People love their hex crawling wilderness adventures...people want those hexes for the play it facilitates. Huge, multi-hundred page supplements/adventures have been published adding "interesting encounters" to each hexagonal shape on the hex map. What a fun, what a useful resource to have at one's fingertips, right?

Thing is: those hexes are too big. Too big to have "one interesting thing" in each one. I don't even care what scale you're using...six mile or twenty or 24 (B/X suggests 6 mile for small scale maps and 24 mile hexes for large). Folks need an idea of just how much space fits into an area this size.

We're all relatively familiar with the Keep on the Borderlands, right? Has a wilderness map in it, remember? One of the complaints I've read about B2 over the years is the tiny size of the outdoor area: 5200 yards by 4000 yards (that's about 3 miles by 2.25 miles). Even following the meandering road, the titular Keep is roughly two-and-a-half miles away from the Caves of Chaos...that's right next door! Heck you could fit multiple B2 wilderness pages inside a single 6-mile hex; there's too much crammed into that tiny, tiny space to be "reasonable" is the protest.

Okay, here's a screen shot from Google Earth of a portion of King County, Washington, including much of Seattle. The gold box on the screen is roughly the same size as the wilderness map in module B2. The northern border lines up with the northern city limits of Seattle proper (at 145th street); the southern border lines up with North 85th Street, two blocks from my home in the Greenwood neighborhood of north Seattle.  You could fit something like 9-10 "B2s" within the city limits of Seattle.

Now, I'll give you a close up of the area:

I'm sorry I can't provide more detail, but this area is huge: absolutely enormous. Hills and buildings (not to mention forested parks) block line of sight more than a few blocks in any direction. The area contains multiple schools, libraries, churches, a large hospital campus, movie theater, numerous "big box" stores, supermarkets, parking lots, large cemeteries, the largest shopping mall in north Seattle (Northgate...now the Seattle Kraken Ice Complex), several lakes, and numerous parks, motels, businesses, strip malls, and TWO 18 hole golf courses. Two major arterials (Highway 99 and Interstate 5) divide the area into three vertical strips, each one with distinctly different character. And it's mostly residential: thousands of people live in this area, in houses with yards, duplexes, condos, and apartment buildings (in addition to at least half a dozen retirement/assisted living complexes), as well as homeless tent encampments and RVs parked under bridges and overpasses.

I am intimately familiar with this region of Seattle...I've spent most of my daily life within it and, perhaps, an additional mile radius for the bulk of the last 26 years. And even so there are giant swaths of the area that I don't know, have never visited, and have no clue about. I walk my neighborhood a lot, but I don't usually go more than 15 blocks in any particular direction without a car. And many areas are simply inaccessible by foot. 

It would be easy to drop SEVERAL dragon dens in an area this size...assuming enough food to sustain such alpha predators. Which shouldn't be too tough: the 1910 census showed Seattle to have more than 237 thousand people living within the city limits, and that was long before modern refrigeration technology. The entire population of B2, humanoid monsters included, amounts to only a few hundred...and it's not like the area around the Keep is portrayed as some sterile, desert region.

I will reiterate: this is an area three miles long from north to south. The Isle of Dread (module X1) is 144 miles long across its north-south axis. That's the same, straight-line distance as from Seattle to Portland, Oregon. That's a ridiculously huge amount of wilderness. Only an idiot would attempt to walk through the forests and mountains between those two cities (I-5 actually takes a longer, more circuitous route bending towards the coast). And yet a party of six to eight adventurers are going to try exploring the interior of a dinosaur-infested island with thick jungle and active volcanoes? Really?

Driving back along I-90 Sunday morning, I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to try traversing such a distance without the aid of the beautiful highway I was zipping along on at 80ish miles per hour. Insanity, I concluded. Miles and miles of wilderness...probably extremely hostile wilderness, especially in the heart of summer and the dead of winter. We don't account for SEASONS in our overland exploration...mountain passes are simply impossible with heavy snow (and spring rains cause avalanches and rock falls). But long before reaching the mountains, all but the most prepared (or fortunate) groups trying to cross the state would probably perish from starvation in the dry landscape.  Lewis & Clark certainly never tried it...they crossed into Oregon from Idaho and travelled down the Columbia River to the coast.

Anyway...

We should not underestimate the distance of distance. I'm sure that sounds silly, but when you're talking about a lost temple, a ruined fortress, or a monster lair (the usual "dungeon" sites)...such places can hide very easily within a landscape. Ye Old Internet tells me most medieval cities took up less than one square mile in area..,though I'd guess that's just the walled perimeter and that the surrounding farms extended much farther. But so long as your local dungeon isn't spewing forth hostile predators looking for townfolk prey on a regular basis, there's no reason such a place couldn't be relatively close to the PCs' "home" community.  

Just my thoughts of the last few days; thanks for reading.

; )

Loot The Music...Er...Body

When I say "I live in Seattle" I actually mean it (unlike some folks)...my home is about 3.6 miles south of the northern city limits. Seattle is a big town (or small city, depending on your POV) and trying to get scheduled for a Covid vaccine in town is tough to say the least. So it was that Saturday morning found me driving north on Interstate-5 to the Skagit County Fairgrounds vaccination site for an 11am appointment...about an hour's drive...to get my first Pfeizer shot.

One of the things I enjoy about the new car the family purchased 2-3 years ago, is the "satellite radio" subscription we got with it: instant access to good music based on genre depending on whatever mood you're in, and even if there's a lousy/annoying song on your favorite genre station, chances are you can find something good on one of your other favorites, without commercials. It's not PERFECT, but for road trips it beats the hell out of the old alternative of slugging away a ton of CDs or mix tapes that you've already listened to a gazillion times. Saturday was a loooong drive (as noted) and rather than listen to the usual hair metal stations I gravitate towards, I listened instead to a rebroadcast for Casey Kasem's American Top 40 from the week of April 21st, 1973. Like, the whole thing (minus commercial interruption). 

It was a good time, and one thing I noticed about the top pop hits from that week in history (the year I was born) was the songs tended to fall into three general categories: 1) songs that I'd never heard before that seemed to be "gimmicky" (like Funky Worm by the Ohio Players), 2) workman-like songs from established artists (both Neither One of Us from Gladys Knight and Call Me by Al Green were completely forgettable pieces), or 3) true classics that I have heard countless times over the last 47+ years including Killing Me Softly (Roberta Flack), Danny's Song (Anne Murray), Stir It Up (Johnny Nash), Love Train (O'Jays), Space Oddity (Bowie), and Drift Away (Dobie Gray).

And the thing that classics like Stevie Wonder's Sunshine of my Life or Steely Dan's Reeling in the Years have over songs like Skylark's Wildflower or the Stylistics' Break Up to Make Up isn't necessarily head-and-shoulders better musicianship or better production values. It's a combination of songwriting (lyrics and instruments) with interesting, memorable touches that makes a song stand out from what has come before. Some cats just have that "it factor" and you can hear it in the way the song has been put together and recorded...even if you don't like a particular song (I'm not a huge Stevie Wonder fan), you can appreciate why he's one of the all-time greats.

I say this by way of introduction to the band Loot the Body, who just sent me a preview copy of the new album Hex for review. Spoiler alert: probably not destined to be a classic.

Loot the Body is "the brainchild of singer/songwriter/multi-instrumentalist Levi Nunez." Nunez writes songs "based on classic D&D" and cites "proto metal" and "proto psychadelic rock" as his musical references. I explained to Mr. Nunez that I wasn't a music critic...I'm not steeped in the industry, I haven't the practiced vocabulary for the writing or the library of musical knowledge to draw upon...but he still said he'd appreciate me writing my impressions of his songs. Says the "music blogs" don't really know what to do with him. 

Okay.

Hex is a six song EP with each track taking its name and theme from a classic D&D adventure module: White Plume Mountain,  Dwellers of the Forbidden City, Castle Amber, Tomb of Horrors, Ravenloft, and The Keep on the Borderlands. I've had some previous exposure to Loot the Body through The Barrier Peaks Songbook, which to me seemed more like a fun little project/experiment than a serious attempt at...well, a serious attempt. The new EP shows, no, Nunez IS actually serious about this wedding of D&D and music...there's a lot of obvious effort here...and whether he's trying to carve out a niche for himself or this is "just what he does," it's certainly doesn't appear to be throwaway trash.

That being said, the first word that came to mind as I listened to to Hex was "sophomoric," despite this being his third effort (I only just discovered he has an earlier album, Random Encounters, which I haven't had a chance to hear). I actually dig on the concept of the album (the idea he was going for) but my overall impression is one of flawed execution, and the thought that the music could have benefitted from some collaboration, or a strong hand in the production/editing with regard to the songwriting itself.

Musically, Hex reminds me quite a bit of Blue Oyster Cult, and shares some of the issues I have with BOC, especially the vocals. I'm okay with BOC (I've seen them live in concert) but they only have three songs I care to listen to, and despite their talent, I find most of their music to be disappointing and forgettable. I'm just not a fan of wispy, gutless singing that takes few chances vocally or lyrically. That's probably too harsh, but (for me) I like my singing to stand out and apart from the other instruments, not just become a drone in the background. I have this problem with more recent bands like Muse and Radiohead, too, although the latter band makes up for it with layering and originality. Perhaps it's music that's designed to act as a soundtrack to the group gathering around the bong, without "harshing the buzz" or acting as a distraction...and, sure, that's "okay." Elevator music is okay, too...in an elevator. But, man, it gets old after a (very short) while. 

Nunez does have musical chops, but his singing talent doesn't stand out, and his instruments...at times creative, at times highly derivative...suffer on most tracks from composition. See, this is the part where me NOT being a music critic fails me: I don't have the words to describe it. Often, he fills up the song sheet with lyrics withOUT musical breaks, rushing to get the words in, rather than letting the ear rest from the drone and just groove into the hooks and melodies. There are parts in every song where the ear wants a break from the singing...and gets none (or not enough). The bridges are too short. Another verse is needed instead of another repetition of an overlong chorus. Things like that. 

Lyrically the songs are hit-and-miss. To ME...an old school D&D guy...some of the songs are especially grating when they lift whole swaths of background text from the adventure modules from which they are derived. The album is at its best when Nunez goes "off script" with his lyrics...writing about the feelings and actions of adventurers in the dungeon, rather than the dungeon itself. 

I've listened to every song on the album multiple times. For me, the best of the bunch are Dwellers in the Forbidden City, Castle Amber, and Tomb of Horrors with Dwellers being my favorite track on the album. Castle Amber has some of the best lyrics on the album, but is scattered in its musical themes, and needs tightening. Tomb would be pretty good (despite some fairly derivative musical hooks) but suffers from the aforementioned issue of arrangement/composition...too bad, because it has one of the best bridges/choruses on the album.

White Plume Mountain, and Keep on the Borderlands are just heartbreaking (or embarrassing, depending on your point of view). When you have one of the worst villain names in the history of D&D ("Keraptis" sounds a bit too much like "crap") you don't spend the entirety of the lyrics on the dude and his history in the module's "background" section, and nothing about the adventure itself (what? no mention of Blackrazor, Wave, and Whelm? Come on). Definitely NOT the song to lead off the EP. TKotB isn't quite as bad, and is fine sitting at the end of the album as coda...just wish it was more than adventure background. 

Ravenloft, like the adventure it's based on, is just gimmicky in tone. It feels like the worst of BOC and irritates me every time I've tried listening to it (it's a struggle to listen to the track for more than two minutes,)...and yet it's the ONLY track that has a decent musical interlude (sans vocals) in the middle. Unfortunately, while it may be the best composed track on the EP it has an incredibly annoying chorus. Ugh.

Should you buy this album? Mmm. There's definitely worse musical projects to throw money at. Like anything produced by Pitbull. AND if you're a fan of droning, stoner rock...especially if you're tickled by themes inspired by classic D&D adventures...then, sure, yes. Because chances are, that's the only way you'll be getting a chance to hear these tracks. I don't think you'll be hearing these songs on the radio any time in the near future. 

And as I come to the end of this review (marveling at how any sane person would ask me to express my honest opinion of their work knowing how caustic and negative I can be..."gutless?" really?) and I finish listening to Hex for what must be the 10th time, I find myself coming to the conclusion that the best track on the album, despite its flaws, is Tomb of Horrors and not Dwellers of the Forbidden City. Even though I prefer the rock hook and lyrics of Dwellers, Tomb is the better song...Dwellers is just too short, needing more time to unwind, gel, and melt into your mind. Plus, Tomb's got the better, hookier chorus; I'll probably be humming it the rest of the day.

All right. That's enough of that.

Loot the Body's new EP Hex is scheduled for release June 4th and can be found on Bootcamp and elsewhere.

Starting Over

Wonder if I've used that title for a post before. Probably more than once.

I've been cooking a lot lately by which I mean 'a lot more than usual' (and by lately I mean the last month or so). I've really tried to be attentive to what I'm preparing as far as food for my family and what they/we eat...not only to ensure proper nutrition for growing kids (and for geezers like myself that need to *ahem* slim down) but because a variety of good, solid foods, well-prepared taste better and are less detrimental to your health, energy, and longevity. 

Also, it's cheaper. Who doesn't want to save money?

Fortunately, I live in Seattle which is positively overflowing with a cornucopia of foods, reasonably priced, all year around...more than I'll probably ever have time to learn or try, let alone master. Others aren't so lucky..."food deserts" abound in this country, and in a society that's mostly forgotten how to grow/raise their own food, that leads to a variety of problems. 

Me...I'm blessed. My grocery bills are half what they were, we're wasting less food, eating better, and the only thing it costs me is time. Time, that most precious of commodities. Being mortal (as we all are), you really come to appreciate that resource, especially the less of it you have.

Today, I have a little extra (time) because it's Friday during Lent, so the food prep is ultra-simple. Thus, I have time to punch out a quick blog post. 

Tuesday's AD&D session saw the death of my players' first, main characters. Out of spells, down three party members and wounded to the point of exhaustion the survivors were forced to retreat from an elite force of hobgoblins (the leader was dressed in plate and shield). Valens, the 5th level elf fighter (with a comatose Jesse - 4th/5th level halfling - lashed to his back) broke from the rest of the group and jumped from a cave ledge 50' above the ground, using a bracelet of swimming & climbing to try to gouge handholds in the cliff face as he plunged toward the canyon floor. 

He landed on his right leg and shattered his ankle. 

[this was a bit of a rough one. The character was not attempting to climb the wall but, instead, break his fall using the magic item's ability to "give the wearer a very strong gripping and holding ability" ...much the same as a high level monk. As the climb vertical percentage given by the item - 95% - is about the same as a 7th level monk, I allowed that the character could remove 30' from from the potential falling damage (as a monk of that level can fall 30' and take no damage) with a saving throw to mitigate damage from the last 20'. He ended up being reduced to exactly 0 hit points by the fall and, given the circumstances, decided to allow him to remain conscious in exchange for a serious, debilitating injury]

The hobgoblins were not about to give up pursuit, however, as the party's raid had killed some 30+ of their number. As some members of the war party raced to fetch a rope ladder, crossbow bolts rained down upon the elf, as he struggled to cover the hundred yards or so to where the party's horses had been tethered near the entrance to the canyon. Holding his shield +1 above his head (he had tossed it out the cave mouth before tossing himself) and using trees for cover, it was a valiant effort...only a natural 20 would be enough to hit him.

Unfortunately, he fell pierced through the neck.

Something like this.

"I can't believe Valens got killed!" my son exclaimed Wednesday morning over breakfast, probably for the 10th or 15th time. "He was so beefy!" And he had been: 5th level, 40 hit points, an AC of 1 thanks to magical leather armor and an 18 dexterity, a +2 long sword, etc. My daughter's character (a fighter/thief) hadn't been nearly as fight-worthy, but she'd been plenty formidable in her own arena, and exhibited bravery, cleverness, and compassion (for both henchmen and foes alike) on plenty of occasions. 

They had, however, been nearing "retirement" anyway due to AD&D's restrictive level caps on demihumans (the halfling had already reached maximum fighter level and the elf was but one level away). One way or another their adventuring days had been drawing to a close. And - thankfully - neither child was particularly torn up about their deaths (i.e. there wasn't any crying or fussing or begging for a "do over").

And so they rolled up new characters. Trying something different, we used Method III from the DMG and ended up with some pretty solid characters; Diego even had good enough stats to be a paladin. Instead, he wanted to try a half-orc fighter/assassin and only changed his mind when he realized his starting age (per the DMG) would put his character at Middle Aged (for a half-orc)...and one year away from Old Age!

"This game sucks!" he said. "How did I end up being such a geezer?" Well, learning two different professions takes a lot of time, and orcs aren't known for their longevity...something about the 'evil, corrupting magic' leeching out the lifeforce. Ah, AD&D: so good at balancing itself!

He decided to be an elven assassin instead. His sister's new character is a half-elf cleric/ranger. 

[I'll note, the boy considered a half-elven assassin because they have a higher level cap (11th instead of 10th), but eventually settled on the elf race because its superior bonuses and abilities were a decent trade-off]

For multiple reasons (which I hope to describe in a future post) we have decided to reinstate alignment in the game (sorry, Alexis!). At the moment, its inclusion means little (other than the players had to choose alignments for their characters and these were limited based on their classes): the cleric/ranger is lawful good and the assassin is lawful evil. There is no restriction on rangers adventuring with evil characters (unlike the rules for paladins) and we have decided the PCs are half-siblings, there being only a 30 year age difference. 

SO...to sum up, we are starting the campaign over from scratch. And this time, I'm not using published adventures (at least, not to start). The bulk of our Thursday session (yesterday) was spent equipping their characters, exploring the village in which they found themselves, and locating some sort of adventure to be had. Hopefully, we'll be able to run through it in the next day or two: the local witch needs some powdered kobold horn to complete the potions of diminution she's been commissioned to brew, and she's a little too busy (and old) to go tracking after them. A small hillside lair is known to be located a couple days ride from the town...and if nothing else, sending them off on the quest (with a promise of payment) was enough to get the pair off her property for a few days....

We'll see how this turns out; those giant weasels are pretty vicious.

; )

Spoiling the Keep (p. 4)

Just continuing from where I left off... 

There's more I want to say about the humanoids living in B2's so-called "Caves of Chaos," especially the WHY of their presence...why exactly have they chosen to make the caves their home? Certainly communities require someplace to live...and for the most part, these are communities: tribal, family units living their lives, not hordes preparing for war against the human soldiers manning the nearby fortress. While the gnolls appear to be mercenaries engaged as extra muscle, and the bugbears (to my mind) are recently arrived refugees living as bandits, the goblins, kobolds, hobgoblins, and orcs (both tribes) appear to have settled in for the "long haul."

What could have drawn them here? Historically, settlers tend to settle where there are resources that allow their communities to survive and thrive. Generally, that means food and shelter (i.e. security) and other items that will allow and supplement the acquisition of these things (trade goods, metals for crafting weapons, access to water ways, etc.). Clearly, the caves provide both shelter and security for the humanoids, and the textual existence of storerooms filled with food and provisions would seem to provide evidence that eating isn't an issue (though where exactly this food is coming from is a bit of a mystery).

And that's all well and good and, for the most part, answers the questions of why the caves have been chosen as tribal homes. But what about the Chaotic temple looming high above the settled denizens of the canyon? What role does this evil priesthood play in the dynamics of the community? Who are they, and why are they there?

Before I address the temple folks specifically, I'd like to point out that there are THREE religious factions in the B2 adventure text. Aside from the temple, there of course exists the Curate and his three acolytes, housed in the chapel, "the spiritual center of the Keep;" these (specifically the Curate), we are told, are the most influential persons in the Keep except for the Castellan and represent the spiritual "forces of good" in this region of the wilderness. Note that the Curate only arms and armors himself if the Keep is threatened; the chapel's arms (including those of the acolytes) are safely stored away unless absolutely necessary. This is not a military leader; he is not an adventurer, and exhibits no ambition of becoming a patriarch, founding a stronghold, or acquiring a barony. He is simply a minister, willing to defend his congregation (the Keep), not a proselytizer...though his under-clerics might prefer it if he were.

This last can be inferred from the way these acolytes "think very highly of the [itinerant] Priest, and will say so to any who ask about him." Spoiler: this Priest, a visitor to the Keep, is:

"...chaotic and evil, being in the KEEP to spy and defeat those seeking to gain experience by challenging the monsters in the Caves of Chaos."

[I will discuss the Priest more in a later post; I have much to say about him, including how he's interacted with my own group's characters; suffice is to say I do NOT see him as an agent of the "Shrine of Evil Chaos"]

So now we come to "the Shrine of Evil Chaos," the single largest complex in the Caves. I know that one of the standard narratives about The Keep on the Borderlands over the years assumes the temple and its priesthood operate as some sort of overlord or "unifying force" for the humanoids at the Caves; the evil priest who rules the place is a mastermind on par with Hommlet's Lareth the Beautiful and has designs to build up an army of monsters with which to assault the Keep and spill the forces of Chaos into the civilized lands.

Typical ancient
(subterranean) chapel.

Upon reflection, I think that's far from accurate. Nothing in the text suggests ANY interaction between the temple and the other denizens of the Caves. While every other entry in the adventure has instructions on where surviving humanoids go for help when facing defeat at the hands of (PC) invaders, not a single mention is made of the temple and its priesthood; likewise, no mention is made of in the temple entry about allies of the priesthood. Neither are there any notes of priests taking prisoners (or servants) from the humanoid populations, nor vice versa...there is no cross-pollination of any kind between the humans/undead of the Shrine and the non-human residents that pervade the Caves. The secret tunnel between the gnoll's hideout and the temple's storage chamber "is unknown to all."

Likewise with the congregation of the Shrine: there is none. Which is a bit surprising in and of itself, given the description at the beginning: "The floors are smooth and worn by the tread of countless feet of the worshippers at this grim place." Okay, so where are these countless worshippers? Not here...the only people one finds in the Shrine...EVER...are a single priest, four adepts, four acolytes, and a human fighter who acts as "torturer." The rest of the population is the silent undead guards: zombies and skeletons. And the evil priest (a 3rd level cleric) isn't even high enough level to cast animate dead, raising the question of how those undead got there in the first place.

[in B/X clerics do not receive the spell animate dead, but in earlier editions, including AD&D, it is a third level spell available to clerics who have reached 5th level]

Clearly, the Shrine is an ancient place; we can infer this from the "ancient bronze vessels" in the Shrine's chapel with their powerful magic curse that forces thieves to return and serve as temple guardians "forever after." We can infer it from the description of the Shrine's crypt: a long hall lined with "many coffins and sarcophagi" containing "the remains of servants of the Temple of Chaos" (note: the remains are here; they have not been turned into zombies and skeletons!). We can infer it from the weird magics found in the Shrine, quite outside the "normal" magic of D&D (certainly of the normal clerical spells). We can infer it from the presence of more than three score undead, despite any of the priesthood's ability to create such creatures...they must have been animated long before the current clerics appeared.

For all it's "evilness," nothing here indicates the place is anything more than a quiet place of worship, and one that has been in operation for quite some time. The Shrine is no "hotbed of intrigue;" unlike other adventure modules, parties will find no documents detailing nefarious plans and schemes, no designs to unite the humanoids and make war on the forces of good. There are no "civilized folk" being held captive, awaiting fates worse than death, no fat merchants hanging from chains in the "torture chamber" (it's empty), no chopped up elves in the store room awaiting a cannibalistic feast. It's just a lavishly decorated monastery with a handful of devout (human) worshippers, that uses undead to guard its halls...understandable given the presence of dangerous non-humans in the vicinity and the lack of supplicants willing to visit/staff a Shrine located on the edge of the wilderness.

Heck, the itinerant Priest at the Keep is more nefarious then the Shrine residents: he at least is intent on joining adventurers in order to betray them (probably cackling a fiendish laugh as he does so). The only person being threatened by the Shrine priesthood is a medusa who they have captured...a deadly monster who will attempt to petrify any would-be rescuers! One might consider the high priest deserves thanks and praise for ridding the region of such a dangerous monster.

Here's what I think: I believe the Shrine area reads as a "reclamation project." Yes, it's been there a long, long time, but the current priesthood have not. It was abandoned...who knows why...some time ago, and has only recently been recovered and is in the process of being refurbished and rehabilitated. Note the mysterious "boulder-filled passage," not yet dug out, which may lead to a forgotten wing of the Shrine. Note the undiscovered secret passage to the much smaller (but higher on the cliff side) cave complex currently use by the gnoll mercenaries...probably this was once an annex area, or the former living quarters of the (ancient) priesthood. 

Someone built the Shrine; someone created its magics and animated its guardians. And clearly it's not the individuals currently living there and going through their rites and rituals; more than likely the place was long abandoned and inhabited by the medusa (why else would she have a potion of stone to flesh stashed nearby?). The humanoids tribes certainly were giving it a wide berth: note that the closest lairs to the Shrine entrance belong to the newly arrived (gnolls, bugbears), or large independent monsters (minotaur, owlbear). The local residents have removed themselves to the caves farthest from the Shrine. Which would, of course, suit the medusa's needs fine (she wouldn't have wanted to be peppered with spears from a distance)...but once a true believer showed up with the ability to control the Shrine's undead guardians, it was all over for her. It's easy to imagine much of the Shrine's current stores were bought with coin taken from the medusa's own hoard.

Looking at the Shrine through these eyes...and keeping in mind that alignment has been cut from my game...it's hard to see how there's any actual conflict between its denizens and the player characters. For that matter, there's not much conflict between the PCs and the humanoids of the Caves, unless they initiate hostilities. But unless incited to action (most likely by residents at the Keep) there's not much justification for storming the Shrine or starting a war with the humanoids. Unless, you know, they just find the Shrine's religion or the non-humans' existence to be somehow distasteful.

Certainly there exists opportunities for the PCs. They could throw off the balance of power by aligning themselves with either the orcish tribes or the goblinoids. They could take out the owlbear or the minotaur and probably receive the thanks of the other residents. They could aid the bugbears in finding better accommodations, or possibly retaking their old forest residence (maybe that's the area currently being used by the bandits as a hideout on B2's outdoor map). They could join the Shrine and help excavate its ruins...or maybe just get paid to empty the annex of the gnoll "squatters" (which, of course, would lead to a change in the balance of power and probably put them into conflict with the orcs). And depending on how sleazy you want to interpret the Keep and its purpose, some enterprising parties could attempt to organize the humanoids themselves for a war on the "interlopers;" there's more treasure in the Keep, anyway.

Okay, that's enough for now. I'm not quite done with this series, but that should be plenty to chew on for the next few days.

Spoiling the Keep (p. 3)

Another year gone and, boy O boy, I was terrible at keeping any of my prior year resolutions. Which is why I try to stay the heck away from resolutions, generally: less chance to be disappointed in myself. This year, my ONLY resolutions are to get healthier (i.e. lose some weight), play more AD&D (however that happens), and get at least one book out the door. There are a lot of other things I'd like to accomplish, but I'll judge the year a success if I can get just those three done.

Playing more Dungeons & Dragons seems by far the easiest...so long as I have children who continuously clamor to play. Finding time to prep the game is tough...but the kids will be back in school come Monday and so long as I can manage my time, that should make things a bit smoother.

[Obligatory Note: I began writing this on January 3rd; MUCH has happened since then]

For now, I still have The Keep on the Borderlands, an adventure I could (nearly) run blindfolded.

In my last post, I examined the "why" of the Keep's existence, but this time I want to examine the "why" of the module's main adventure site: the so-called Caves of Chaos. A largish box canyon riddled with nearly a dozen caves, opening (mostly) onto carefully worked subterranean complexes, the Caves have often been derided as the stereotypical "monster apartment building," featuring multiple humanoid "tribes," a temple of (chaotic) religious fanatics, plus the odd owl bear and minotaur, all living together in close proximity...if not exactly peace and harmony. Hundreds of "evil monsters" just waiting for some intrepid band of adventurers to sweep through with swords, sleep spells, and flasks of flaming oil before collecting the coins and treasures these poor bastards have hoarded.

Cardboard enemies to score points against, in other words. 

Which is why the inclusion of so many non-combatants is crazy. Unless, Gygax was some sort of weird sadist (a possibility, I suppose), why populate the place with women and children "who will not fight" ...and yet still have hit points to deplete? 

Today, I am mainly going to be talking about the humanoid "tribes" found in the Caves: the orcs, goblins, kobolds, hobgoblins, bugbears, and gnolls. The hapless "forces of Chaos" that populate the warrens of the area. These provide the vast bulk of potential opponents (i.e. monsters) that adventurers will discover in the complex. Minding their own business, living their lives.

That's the thing that's so striking...these are families living together. Leaving out the lizard folk of the fens (who could easily be included in the same category) you have close to 380 individuals in the Caves, of which more than 200 (about 53%) are lesser or non-combatants: women, children, perhaps elderly or decrepit members of the tribe. They have food stores consisting of "normal provisions" including cloth, grain, food (much of it salted/preserved), and drink. Some of this is tabbed as stolen or "spoils," but not all...not even most. These are communities residing together, with furniture and fire pits. Despite the presence of guardsmen (who are no different from the other male combatants found in the "common" tribal areas) there is nothing here to indicate they are not simply peaceful nonhuman species living in relative harmony...little different to certain medieval cities of the Iberian peninsula (looking at you, Toledo) where member of multiple disparate cultures (Christian, Jew, and Muslim) lived and worked and thrived together.

And they seem to have been there for a while: long enough to have furnishings, alliances, stairways, stockpiles. These are not newly arrived refugees driven from their homes (one possible explanation for so many different species residing together in such close proximity). There are rivalries, but no open warfare...in fact it is clear from the textual notes that IN MOST CASES humanoids pressed by invaders (i.e. PC adventurers) will put aside their differences and work together. The oft-floated idea of "faction manipulation," playing off tribes against each other, appears to be a Big Fat Myth.

These are not "creatures of Chaos;" hell, they're not even all that murderous, given that they will capture and ransom intruders for small sums (10-100 gold coins a pop). They are as civilized and savvy as any member of the Keep military installation, the fact of their living in caves being mainly a sign of their nocturnal/subterranean physiology. 

Of course, they also appear to live in abject squalor. The square footage of "real estate" for these communities is absolutely abysmal. A few quick searches on Ye Old Inter-Webs shows most estimated requirements to be about 200-500 square feet of living space per individual...and that hasn't changed all that much since medieval times, either (medieval peasant homes to have somewhere in the range of 637-1500 square feet for an average of 3.5 to 6 peasant-to-hovel ratio). However, the "common living spaces" for the majority of tribe members is pretty bad, being about 75-133 square feet per individual in the hobgoblin common rooms, and only 40-46 square feet for the goblins (depending on how you measure the area of the oddly shaped chamber).

Now, one might say: they're goblins, they're small, and need less space. Okay, that makes some sense...but then wouldn't the LARGE humanoids, like gnolls and bugbears need more space? Instead, their common spaces get SMALLER, with bugbears having barely 46 square feet to the individual and the 7+' gnolls having less than 43' apiece! Factor in all those long bows, pole arms, and great axes they wield, and you're looking at a ridiculously cramped space for the proudest and strongest humanoids. 

Here's what I think: only some of these residents are permanent occupants. The kobolds, orcs, goblins, and hobgoblins have the best digs of the bunch. In size order, the amount of square footage for tribal common areas looks like:

Kobold: 40 square feet per individual

Goblin: 47 square feet per individual

Orc (smaller tribe): 77 square feet per individual

Orc (larger tribe): 97 square feet per individual

Hobgoblin: 106 square feet per individual

Those are definitely "cramped quarters" but assuming they are stealing or trading with outsiders for their arms and provisions (as opposed to needing areas for forging and manufacturing), I suppose one could squint at the numbers and (accounting for really squalid living conditions) give the set-up a pass.

But why are they all living together? Well, they're really not, are they? The orcs (who are friendly rivals...the chiefs meet with each other and regularly strategize) are on one-side of the canyon while the goblins and hobgoblins (clear symbiotic units) are on the other side. The presence of the mercenary ogre near the goblins has allowed them the extra muscle they need to remain independent from the hobgoblins, who would otherwise enslave them (given their penchant for bullying, militarism, and torture). The kobolds, hated and despised by all, have allied themselves with a giant rat colony in order to protect themselves...and even so, they are forced to dig pit traps to protect their territory, the smallest of the "permanent" tribal settlements.

Itty-bitty
living space...

So then, what of the gnolls and bugbears? These are recent arrivals but for different reasons. The gnolls are clearly mercenaries (explaining their "loose alliance" with the orcs) who have been bought to help against the goblin-hobgoblin-ogre faction. This explains the gnoll and orc prisoners taken by the parnoid hobgoblins (most likely spies being "questioned," given their location in the hobgoblin torture chamber). No open warfare yet exists, but it seem the orcs felt some balancing of power was necessary. The women and children that accompany the tribe are the equivalent of gnollish "camp followers" as their lair is clearly too small to support even the small number of their kind that appears in the adventure. 

The bugbears are the true outsiders here, and of all the groups appears the most likely to be refugees from their traditional arboreal territory. As only one force in the area (the Keep) is strong enough to compel servitude from their tribe, I think it's a fair assumption that they were previously enslaved mine workers who are holed up in the Caves as they plot their revenge. This explains many aspects of their tribe: why they have taken captives from ALL the tribes, why they have to send out "hunting parties" for food (they aren't yet settled), why their living conditions (square footage) is so terrible, and why they have a room for "spoils" rather than "supplies" or "stores." It is obvious they are living a bandit lifestyle. I find it highly likely that the area in which they resided originally belonged to a 3rd orc tribe they have since ousted (note how their cave entrance lies on the same level and same side of the canyon as the other two orc groups). It is far too small for their numbers, and it can only be a matter of time before they are forced to make some move...either out of the Caves (unlikely, given the continued threat of the Keep) or into an additional, larger cave complex. 

[the signs near the entrance, by the way, were not written by the bugbears, but by members of the human mining guild set to entice and entrap humanoids. When the bugbears broke their chains and revolted, they took these (along with other souvenirs), leaving them at the mouth of their cave as a warning to stay the heck away or face their wrath]

Finally, please note that this reading also makes sense in light of what the Monster Manual says about the various humanoids ability to mine and tunnel. Goblins are noted as being "fair" miners, orcs are "accomplished," and hobgoblins considered "highly adept." These are the beings making these caves (note the rough, unworked caverns used by the minotaur and owl bear). The MM states specifically that gnolls are not good miners and that they generally "dislike work," giving additional credence to their temporary presence in the Caves. 

All right, that's enough for now (probably more than enough); next post I want to talk about religion, specifically its presence and role for the humanoid tribes. 

Spoiling the Keep (p. 2)

The last couple nights, I've been reading Tolkien's The Lost Tales (volume 1)...a Christmas gift from my wife...but I'm still only in the "foreword" of the thing. With regard to The Lord of the Rings (Tolkien's opus) perhaps the thing I find most fascinating is that his trilogy is built on a fully developed (or near-full) world and mythology of his own creation; Tolkien was writing stories about silmarils and elves long before he was writing about hobbits and their antics. And all the "allusions" to fictional history found in his main works...including The Hobbit...are more reference to these earlier, unpublished works, rather than an artistic device to make his fantasy world seem bigger than it is. 

For most fiction, this ain't the case. When Ben Kenobi is telling Luke Skywalker that he fought alongside Luke's father in "the Clone Wars," George Lucas had no idea of what that was or meant to his Star Wars universe. It was color added to exposition establishing a relationship with the character (an uncle-like figure) while simultaneously developing that character (establishing Ben as a former warrior); the "prequel trilogy" had not yet been conceptualized (and would, in fact, undergo several iterations...in various SW mediums...prior to the actual films getting green lit). That's a good example of how the device usually works.

However, when Tolkien writes that Glamdring is a famous sword worn by the King of Godolin in the Goblin Wars, he is referencing an existing history...The Fall of Gondolin was, in fact, the first story Tolkien ever wrote down (and attempted to rewrite multiple times during his life). It's not just "color," nor is elvish language simply composed of nonsensical syllables smashed together. This depth of world building is responsible for much of the richness of Tolkien's stories. 

And "richness" and "depth" is what we're looking for in our D&D campaigns...not because we want to dazzle our players with our ability to write fake histories (that they generally don't care about), but because it allows DMs to create a sensible environment for exploration, aiding the immersion process. 

The Keep on the Borderlands, as written, has very little to it in terms of backstory and history. Part of its power comes from its succinct distillation of what some might consider "pure" D&D play. It presents a home base, a small wilderness, and a progressively tiered "dungeon" of monsters, and then asks players to go explore (while trying not to get killed). It is a GREAT introduction to the game...so long as one doesn't examine it too closely. In a vacuum, there's a lot to recommend it.

But campaign play requires more...it demands that close examination, because adventure sites and scenarios need to be fit into the campaign world in order for adventures in that world to have value and heft. Long term campaign play cannot be sustained with unrelated episodic play because nothing of value can be built in a purely improvisational world and the padding of a PC's stats over time gets stale when one's play has no concrete impact. 

So let's try to give the Keep some context.

The first thing to discuss, I think, is WHY the Keep exists at all. Large stone fortifications are not just built in the middle-of-nowhere "just for the heck of it." With all apologies to Ludwig the Mad, large stone structures aren't built ANYwhere without reason. Building any castle structure is a large undertaking, requiring substantial resources of time, money, material, and manpower, and aren't undertaken lightly. 

The Keep in B2 is clearly meant to be a military fortification, with the majority of its listed NPC population being fighting men...a bit more than 200 men-at-arms, plus officers. That the Keep is ruled by a castellan ("The Castellan") backs this up, based on my understanding of the history of the term (i.e. based on what I can glean off the internet, especially wikipedia).

[people are going to have to excuse my lack of scholarship and general hackwork. I am not a historian (except of the armchair variety) and did not study it at university. Also, libraries are still closed in my city due to the pandemic, and even before they were, I can tell you that the public libraries were pretty light on the types of scholarly references one might use for this kind of work...assuming, of course, I could speak any language besides English in order to DO research across multiple cultures. So apologies; I'm just a blogger]

The title of castellan can be hereditary (with the domain presided over called a "castellany") but it is more usually understood to be an appointment by a higher noble...and given Gygax's own definition of the term in B2's glossary ("a governor or warden of a castle or fort") I think it safe to assume that this is the type of castellan we have at the Keep: a career soldier type assigned the task of running the garrison. Being that the Keep is set "on the Borderlands," one might imagine the region to be part of the march (and, thus, under the jurisdiction of a marquis), a buffer zone between the civilized realm and the untamed wilderness. Perhaps there are several such fortresses within a few days ride of the place.

The Keep in 3D.

However, the Keep is MASSIVE for such an out-of-the-way area. This is no wooden hill fort or lonely tower stronghold. It has shops and stores and services that appear somewhat independent from the functioning of the place as a medieval border fort. While on first pass the "village" of the outer bailey has similarities to a small western town (at least of the cinematic variety: Deadwood, Tombstone, etc.) upon closer inspection the thing feels much more like a (small) modern day military base. Here's the PX store, here's the mess, here's some on-site residences for visitors; knowing Gygax spent some time in the marines, it wouldn't surprise me if this was part of his inspiration for the Keep (albeit with medieval trappings...stables instead of a motor pool, etc.).

Regardless, the Keep has a heft of permanence to it. This motte-and-bailey took years to build, and it seems to have been built for the long haul. Clearly, someone felt the need to construct a stronghold of this size, and yet it is not the fortified residence of a nobleman and his family (the castellan, as noted, appears to be an official and a bachelor). Likewise, the Keep doesn't appear to have interest in (or means of) collecting tolls (from the southern road) or taxes (from the local populace...which appears absent anyway). In short, there seems no way for the Keep to generate income...certainly not enough to feed and supply the military personnel. Some "state power" (marquis, king, whatever) must be footing the bill...and they must have a good reason for doing so. 

But what? Protecting one's borders? That would make more sense if there was a rival power, but in the generic D&D realm it would seem that border only divides "civilization" from "wilderness." As a base to act as a launching point for taming the wilderness? Even if there was evidence of the Keep engaging in warfare with the nearby humanoid populations (there isn't), the scale of the place is off for such an undertaking. Plus, one would assume that once a hostilities commenced, there would be no respite for building a massive stone construction until AFTER the locals were pacified. 

So while the Keep is most assuredly "on the Borderlands," I don't think it's purpose has anything to do with extending or protecting its border. I think it's there to protect itself...and since that interest isn't a familiar one (i.e. there's no ruling family present), it must be guarding some resource. A resource that is desirable enough for the nobility to fund such an undertaking. Something valuable worth guarding, in other words.

Given the personnel and services found in the Keep compound, the absence of any other revenue source, and the nearby terrain, I'm inclined to think the place has been set up as a mining operation. The place has all the trappings of an "Old West" boom town, save for an undertaker and an assayers office...and the latter is less useful in a state-run operation than when dealing with numerous independent miners. The wealth from such an operation (depending on the ore being dug up) would explain the nobility's interest in bankrolling a sturdy, permanent fortress in the wilderness. It explains the need for a money-changing bank and a guild house, it explains the presence of both a provisioner and a trading post, as well as the reason why traders bother making the journey into the disputed Borderlands (and the reason the Keep has warehouses, stables, and an inn within its 20' high curtain walls). 

I am inclined to believe that "the Caves of the Unknown" are the original mines (now played out) that the Keep was set to guard. It explains why the Caves are so close to the Keep (a couple miles), and it starts to paint a picture of the Keep's relationship (and potential dealings) with the nearby humanoid tribes in the area dubbed "the Caves of Chaos."

But I'll discuss those guys in my next post.

; )

Spoiling the Keep (p. 1)

For those of us who started in the D&D hobby with some version of pre-1983 "basic" (Holmes or Moldvay) the adventure module B2: The Keep on the Borderlands is pretty familiar. It was included in those old box sets and many of us cut our teeth on it (as a player or DM or both), back in the day. Many folks, re-entering the hobby after decades (or returning to "old school" play after experience dissatisfaction with latter edition sensibilities) have pulled a weathered copy of the module to fire up a new campaign. I've used it myself for this purpose...more than once! 

The B2 adventure is ubiquitous in old school circles...and in D&D, generally. Towards the end of the 2nd edition era, Return to the Keep on the Borderlands was published, a silver anniversary rewrite of the adventure updating the thing while reusing the history and locations found in module. Goodman Games put out a "5th edition conversion and classic homage" called Into the Borderlands -- with the original Roslof art gracing the cover! -- a couple years ago, and that mammoth tome can still be found in stacks at local game shops, including WotC's main retail store here in Seattle. 

The original adventure has been lauded and lambasted; analyzed, scrutinized, and criticized. People have apologized for the module, praised it (and elements of its design), and suggested ways to "rehabilitate" it. Many of us have run it, played it, read it, and blogged about it over the years; on my own blog I see I've already more than 30 posts tagged with the "B2" label...not surprising given the impact it's had on me as a DM. After all, it was the first published adventure scenario I ever picked up.

And now I'm returning to the thing, running it for my kids, albeit using the AD&D system.

[which doesn't require all that much adjustment...really]

Pretty sure I've posted
this image before...

This time, however, is a little different. In past runnings, I've always played the module "straight," i.e. as written and wholly unexamined. The play has been the thing, not the "story" of the Keep and the Caves. And this approach has served MY needs well enough, though frustrating in one respect: players have had difficulty with the challenges presented. Back in my (very brief) BECMI days, I had a party that managed to clean out most of the Caves, earning enough x.p. and treasure that they were ready to move on to a new adventure site. But in the main, I've seen players fail miserably at invading the Caves, losing character after character (and party after party) until finally "giving up" and deciding to take their adventure aspirations elsewhere. 

And none of that has required any more story than what is given in the text. A fortress on the edge of the wilderness. A cave complex occupied by hostile monsters. A band of plucky adventurers looking to score a pile of bloodstained coins. Do you need more "story" than that to have a good time? Not everyone does; I didn't, for a quarter century.

I'm looking at things differently now. I'd like to say that my "needs" as a DM have changed, but only because that's an easy phrase to reel off; there's something more going on in my head that is much harder to articulate. And I'm not going to try right now...suffice is to say that the old approach to running B2 no longer satisfies. The text as written can no longer go "unexamined."

SO, my plan (such as it ever is) is to start a new series of posts on this hoary, ancient module, even as I run it (again) for my children. They will include my thoughts on the thing, its setting, and my modifications to the adventure as I try to beat it into some semblance of a "useful play aid." Because that's how I'm looking at the module at the moment...not as an adventure to be "won," but as a campaign opportunity to be explored without any sort of expected outcome.  Doing some examination and analysis will (I believe) allow me to do a better job running the adventure that way.

This series (I am assuming it will be a series...there's a lot to discuss here) will, by necessity, contain a lot of *SPOILERS* because, I'm sorry, if this type of thing is at all interesting to you then I'm going to assume that you are already familiar with the module and none of the things I "reveal" will ruin the adventure. Not that there's a whole lot of surprises in the adventure as written (though more than I want to enumerate), but you can consider this my one and only warning on the issue.

All right, that's it. I'm still putting together the order in which I want to do this, but I'll start in earnest with "Part 2" of this series...hopefully before the New Year!   ; )

Later.

Bugbears

 This is a bugbear:

I'm absolutely certain that 100% of my non-robot/spambot readers will recognize the character in this image, even if they haven't made a point of seeing every Star Wars film in the Lucas library.

The original description of the bugbear (from OD&D's Supplement I: Greyhawk) simply states:

These monsters are of the "giant class," being great hairy goblin-giants. Despite their size and shambling gait, they move very quietly, thus increasing their chance to surprise a party by 16 2/3%.

[for the uninitiated, that would mean achieving surprise on a d6 roll of 1-3, rather than the standard 1-2]

Holmes's description in the original basic book changes this description very little, adding only that "they attack without warning whenever they can." Holmes also notes their alignment as chaotic evil, whereas the creature was originally presented (in OD&D) as having the potential for both neutrality and chaos.

The AD&D Monster Manual, as usual, expands the creature's description considerably, with special consideration given to armaments and tribal organization. However, the introduction to the entry is my main interest:

Bugbears live in loose bands, and are typically found in the same areas as are goblins. Unlike their smaller cousins, however, these hairy giant goblins operate equally well in bright daylight or great darkness (as they have infravision to 60'), so they are as likely to choose a habitation above ground as they are to select a subterranean abode.

Just what am I doing here? Well, I'll tell you. Remember this recent post of mine discussing how I've found I can get by without alignment in the game? All well and good and working just fine (still). Here's the thing though: once you remove the idea of "cosmic evil" from the game and are simply left with sentient humanoid species, you've only got a couple easy ways to go with your "fantasy races:" full on conquistador (conquering the "savages" and all of the imperialist tropes and associated awfulness), OR  create some sort of fantasy Star Trek-like utopia with all the species intermingling and elbow-rubbing one expect to find in a Roddenberry space station.

I don't like either of those options. And since my fantasy world has some established concept parameters (for example, humans dominate, cultures tend not to mingle unless sharing a species, no concrete alignments), I've got to go a different, harder route and make things work. I've got to basically make each species its own damn alien thing, that keeps the creature from adapting to humanity's ways (setting up shops in the town) while not making it a cardboard villain to be cut down.

And there are a LOT of humanoids in the game. Gnolls are basically Warhammer beastmen (uplifted, mutant animals), and orcs are simple mutants ("half-orcs" being first generation spawn of normal parents). But goblinoids...there are a LOT of goblinoids...especially if you start including the aquatic versions and variants found in later "monster manuals." 

TWO...two types of goblins are about all I can stand (which is why, when running UK2: The Sentinel I changed the blue-skinned xvarts into blue-skinned goblins). "Goblin," I've decided is just a human word for any sentient, non-allied humanoid species. Big goblins, little goblins, hairy goblins, and militaristic, jackbooted goblins (could D&D hobgoblins take their name from the hobnails they sport? Sure, why not). 

But I'm only having two species of goblin in the game, and their differences are largely that of culture and priority. Hobgoblins are to goblins as Spartans were to ancient Macedonians, and if you think I'm paying them a compliment, then you should probably read Bret Devereaux's blog. Spartans were pretty awful, in just about every way possible, and hobgoblins (in my campaign) are the same.

SO...bugbears. They are most assuredly not goblins. They're not big goblins, they're not hairy goblins, they are their own darn species. They are wookies. They can live in caves, but they prefer arboreal surroundings. They are diurnal, unlike goblins...their "infravision" is a way to model their keen sense of smell. Their armor class and high hit points represents their innate toughness; they wear little in the way of armor (hence, their increased stealth ability...which is still not as good as an unarmored elf, seeing as how freaking big they are). They are, however, tool users, and construct their own homes and weapons. They hire themselves out as mercenaries, and covet treasure both as a means of exchange with other races, and for ostentatious displays of wealth. 

They have a love for family and a cultural tradition of honor that includes life debts, ritual combat, and mating for life. Despite their mercenary ways, they hold themselves aloof from other species and tend to look down on them (for failing to share their cultural values) and they often bully smaller species. It doesn't help that their ability to communicate is hindered by limited vocalization, but they comprehend other languages -- including the common tongue -- as well as any human of equal intelligence, and other races can learn their language with a bit of patience. Still, this lack of "speech" and their intimidating stature has led some to see them as little more than primitive savages. 

They are strong workers and are prized as slaves by unscrupulous cultures. This has done nothing to improve their relationship with other races.

"Bugbear" is not a name they call themselves. In fact, they find the term derogatory and insulting, and have been known to pull the arms off those brazen enough to use it as a form of address. 

My players (i.e. my children) have not yet encountered bugbears...not in B/X or OD&D or (as of yet) AD&D. That will soon be changing. They have created new 1st level characters, ostensibly to give their other PCs "a rest" after the saga that was UK2 and UK3. This time, the plan is for them to once again journey to The Keep on the Borderlands. Yes, yes...cue the groans. I'm trying something a little different with it this time around, and I'm not just talking about using it in an AD&D game. 

I'll tell you all about it, one of these days; just not right now (sorry).

My plan is to be pretty busy over the next couple days. Hope everyone has a happy Christmas...as best we all can. Best wishes!

Rabbit Pie

This post may be a bit "all over the place," but it's better than the alternative I was contemplating yesterday (something along the lines of a personal existential crisis which seems, mercifully, to be under control at the moment...). I'll do my best to come up with a title by the end.

SO...I was catching up on my "adventure review" reading over at Bryce's blog and stumbled across this little gem in the pile of dross he usually digs through (meaning no offense to Bryce by the way...I find his work of buying and reviewing adventures "so you don't have to" is an invaluable service to those of us interested in adventure design).

"Little gem" is probably too complimentary, for Game of Kobolds; "interesting nugget" probably should have been the term coined. What it is: a 42 page supplement of material that fleshes out the classic adventure module The Keep on the Borderlands with specifically motivated characters and factions interlinked through a complex web of relationships, providing the basis for the type of "blood opera" one might find in George Martin's Game of Thrones.

[this was the impetus for Corbett Kirkley's design; the origin of the product is described in its introduction, which I will let the interested reader dig into, rather than relate here]

[oh, BTW...it's not a "for purchase" product; you can download a copy here if you like. I'm not a scribd user, so Bryce's link doesn't work for me]

As an idea, the thing is more than just "interesting," but its execution is a little meh. My quibbles are about the same as Bryce: definitions aren't tight enough, not enough Keep characters, the timeline/fallout parts need to be elaborated upon. Furthermore, I prefer a more xenophobic brand of humanoid interaction in D&D to this mixture of "fantasy diversity" which smacks of all the kind of [insert derogatory-term-that-isn't-too-offensive-yet-communicates-disdain] found in the most recent versions of the game.

Still, it's not a terrible idea. For one thing, the scenario presented provides plenty of motivation for players' involvement, without forcing them down a particular path. For another, it presents a more unique situation than just hunting bugbear pelts or goblin skulls for reward. For a third thing, it provides a method of interacting with B2's Caves of Chaos that (hopefully) won't result in the immediate extinction of low-level player characters that so often follows from a frontal assault. For a fourth, it also provides a (slightly wonky) justification for why there's this giant horde of rando humanoid tribes living in harmony and practically on the doorstep of this fully stocked human garrison.

Even so, the idea of running it doesn't appeal (to me) very much, nor even the idea of doing a similar supplement for a different adventure like, say, the various factions found in module I1: Dwellers of the Forbidden City. The thing is, much as I enjoy Byzantine politics and Machiavellian machinations, I consider these a particular vice/component of humanity, and would confine them as such. Bugbears and bullywugs and kobolds and orcs? No. I do not look at them as allegorical or surrogate humans. Heck, I try hard not to even look at elves and dwarves as such.

This morning, the idea that dragged my sorry ass out of bed (or, rather, kept me from returning to sleep after my beagles woke me at the crack of dawn) was this idea I have for cataloguing all the OD&D/AD&D monsters so that I cull the list for the specific creatures that function in my campaign setting, especially with regard to "sentient" species. I've pretty much decided that all "goblinoids" (including kobolds up through bugbear) are going to be a single species (of various sizes), while orcs are going to be a race that was magically created, rather than natural. Some sentients (most notably elves) I plan on categorizing as "protohumans," older variations of humanity (like neanderthals) that have since disappeared or become inseparably bonded with "normal humans" through interbreeding, but in general I really want to limit the amount of creatures with above-animal intelligence.

Still not sure what I want to do with dragons: would like to make them (mostly) a vermin-like species. But then, what's the reason for the treasure hoards? Or is that just a myth ungrounded in fact?

Giving a species the ability to reason invites identification with that creature...and I don't want that. I already intend to have multiple human cultures in my setting, each with the potentials for good, evil, and indifference and of course the various human flaws (hamartia, to borrow from Game of Kobolds) that can lead to drama, intrigue, and tragedy.  The non-humans in my campaign are NOT allegorical stand-ins for other races, ethnicities, and cultures...my intention is to create them as alien cultures based on their own biological strangeness, drives, and environments. The default alignment of these non-human cultures (as I intend to use it) will be in relationship to how harmonious they are with needs and desires of human civilization...my campaign being human-centric.

Recently I started re-reading The Hobbit (for the upteenth time), because I had this idea (brought on by my encumbrance posts) of statting out the dwarvish "pony train" that initially sets out from the Shire. Unfortunately, there's little description of their actual goods to be found, save that it is "mostly food" (as one should probably expect). However, getting to the part where their ponies were eventually lost (in the Misty Mountains) I was struck by Tolkien's description of the goblins as a species, in his initial introduction of the creature. He writes in part:

"Now goblins are cruel, wicked, and hard-hearted. They make no beautiful things, but they do make clever many clever ones. They can tunnel and mine as well as any but the most skilled dwarves, when they take the trouble, though they are usually untidy and dirty. Hammers, axes, swords, daggers, pickaxes, tongs, and other instruments of torture, they make very well, or get other people to make to their design, prisoners and slaves that have to work till they die for want of air and light...they did not hate dwarves especially, no more than they hated everybody and everything, and particularly the orderly and prosperous; in some parts wicked dwarves had even made alliances with them. But they had a special grudge against Thorin's people, because of the war which you heard mentioned..."

There are two things of especial note (to me) in this description. The first is that these are fairytale creatures, more or less a shadowy version of dwarves, and not analogous to any particular human ethnicity (I left out the part about goblins taking delight in engines and explosions and ingenious machines for killing large numbers of people: inventions pioneered for the most part by Western European cultures).  The second is that despite their brutality, they are not above dealing with other races, including dwarves, with whom (in D&D literature and elsewhere) they are generally portrayed as having an entirely genocidal attitude. In fact, it is only Thorin's people in particular with whom they have an issue, due to a previous war/feud, not any fundamental inter-species hatred.

And this is born out later in the interaction between Thorin and the Great Goblin. The proud dwarf is far more humble and polite with goblin chief than in any of his interaction (later in the book) with the king of the wood elves, with whom he has no family quarrel. Of course, a conciliatory tone might be expected after being beaten and chained and at the mercy of one's captors...but the elves treat Thorin nearly as rough as he still has the gall to give the elf king snark. I personally find this fascinating.

The conversation started
politely enough.

But fascinating as it may be, it doesn't change my outlook: these are two alien species, not "fantasy human cultures." If dwarves have some type of kinship with goblins, it is due (in my world at least) due to their shared, subterranean physiology and culture, not any kind of human-like empathy and compassion for each other as fellow sentients. And with regard to the sea of humanity swimming around the foothills of these creatures mountain homes, they are BOTH a strange and eerie species...however, one rates as "lawful" for being interested in crafting useful items and doing honest trade with surface dwellers, while the other (perhaps because of their shorter lifespan and, thus, perspective) are judged "chaotic" for their raiding, slave-taking, and violent methods. And neither species has any interest in human politics except so much as it might further their (inhuman) interests.

My campaign setting isn't about creating understanding between different sentient species. It's about survival. And I already know which species will (eventually) come out on top, because my setting is 10,000 years ago in Earth's past. The individual actions of player characters can be judged for themselves, but I'm not interested in "decolonizing" my D&D game by humanizing the non-humans. If anything, I want to make sure they are MORE "othered" than recent editions would have them be, standing in for diversity against a homogeneity of Euro-type humanity.

That's not to say that I intend my setting to be all Incan and Charrua and Mayan with cloth armor and atlatl and whatnot. There's a reason I'm using a setting of 9,000 BCE and not 1550. But even within a single region, you can have a number of nations of diverse peoples with various cultures, languages, and ways of life, even with a shared "group identity." I've been watching Padma Lakshmi's Taste the Nation the last week or so and found it to be a fascinating look at my own country and the plethora of cultures sharing an "American" identity. I intend the humanity of my setting to be something like that: a society composed of many different peoples, cooperating as best they can (though sometimes failing due to past wrongs and grievances) for survival of their species.

There will be very, very few monsters (i.e. non-humans) that carry a Lawful alignment.

SO...I've come to the end of my rambling post, and I have no idea what to title it. I guess I'll go with "non-existential crisis" since that's the subject these meandering thoughts ended up supplanting. Or I could call it "rabbit pie" (which would make as much sense), as that's what I plan on baking for lunch. Ooo, I feel like Farmer MacGregor this morning.

Hope everyone's having a good week. Today's pretty sunny here in Seattle.

Staycation

Welp, it's not quite martial law out here in the ol' Pacific Northwest, but things aren't all sunny and roses either. And if you're talking about the local economy, things are looking downright grim. Well, probably not for Amazon (I'm sure business is booming with the on-line shopping economy), but for retail and restaurants? Oh, boy.

It's enough to make me wish I hadn't given up alcohol for Lent...how can I do my part when I can't even spend money on beer?

To the kids, being out of school till the end of April just feels like an extended "staycation" rather than house arrest (though we will be starting remote learning next week). I won't be getting much time to myself (we'll see how that grump-ifies my already grumpy demeanor), but it perhaps helps that we'll be saving on gas and driving time (baseball, basketball, and soccer have all been cancelled for the foreseeable future). Hell, the Archdiocese has even suspended Mass and Friday stations of the Cross (what this means for Easter, I don't know...). Thank goodness the Fred Meyer across the street is still open and stocked (of everything except disinfecting wipes). We're not living The Stand, yet.

[will the Baranof survive the sudden loss in business? The place has been unsinkable for decades. But even with the anxiety-fueled need to drink, are people still willing to part with their petty cash in a time of possible economic crisis? We'll see...]

At least I have Dungeons & Dragons. Our game yesterday (new player) went quite well. Another foray into The Keep on the Borderlands (my son's first) as well as a gruesome character death (my son's first). The rather short adventure went something like this:

"Dave" (1st level fighter with huge strength and a tremendous amount of gold) paired up with "Azina" the 1st level elf. Caro decided to penny pinch a bit, buying only leather armor and a shield (ballsy move) and chose ventriloquism as her starting spell (after also considering protection from evil). This is the first time I've ever seen a person choose that spell.

While there were three mercenaries available at the Keep's tavern, Dave decided that the price to hire them (one gold piece per day each) was too expensive for their operation (he was sitting on 41 extra coins). Azina was looking for female hirelings, and random dice produced a 2nd level elf who was willing to join the party for a 25% share of any treasure found (per the module). After some debate over the NPC's name, we settled on calling her "Ari."

At the Caves of Chaos, Azina was hesitant to do any exploration until they'd set up a decent camp and secured a good quantity of dead wood and "other resources;" Dave, on the other hand, was anxious to get down to spelunking and treasure hunting. Choosing one of the lower caves, they lassoed a still living tree branch and climbed the sloping canyon wall to its entrance.

Lantern light revealed what appeared to be a sleeping bear and the party members cautiously sneaked up to it and stabbed it with their swords, only to find it was a skinned carcass stretched over a pile of branches and debris.

It was at this point that an argument arose over the fact that no one had bothered to bring a bow and that maybe they should have at least purchased a crossbow, as Azina started feeling nervous about the prospect of engaging everything in hand-to-hand combat. Talks of returning to the Keep broke down when no agreement could be reached on who would be doing the actual purchase of a missile weapon and while the players were dissuaded (by the DM) from attacking one another, the party decided to split: Dave was determined to press on, and Azina would return to the camp below. As Ari had signed up for a share of treasure found "and 25% of nothing is nothing" she decided to follow Dave in his exploration.

A short tunnel opened into a second cavern, where a hulking form gnawed at a huge leg of mutton. Neither group was surprised and the creature asked (in goblin, the lingua franca of the region) "What the heck are you doing in my house?" Dave's answer was to shout a few pointed barbs (he spoke goblin) and charge with his two-handed sword.

Whereupon he was clubbed to death with a single swipe of the ogre's dinner (11 points of damage). Initiative had been automatically lost due to his use of a two-handed weapon (B/X).

Weapon

Ari broke morale and fled, though she was struck from behind as she tried to escape. Scrambling down the rope she yelled frantically for help as the ogre pursued. She was about halfway down when the monster kicked the tree branch loose with a mighty stomp and she fell the last ten feet to the ground, only narrowly avoiding death. "And stay out!" he yelled before returning to his cave.

Azina, having observed this from the base of the cliff, quickly moved to help the wounded elf, then decided it was her duty to try and retrieve Dave (if alive) or recover his body (if not). Using her own rope to lasso a stone outcropping (that had been established previously) she climbed up to the mouth of the cave. Once there, and before entering, she used her ventriloquism spell to throw her own voice from deeper inside the cave, saying "Hey, I'm still alive! Come get me!" in goblin language (which the elf also spoke).

She thus drew off the ogre, deeper into his own lair, using no light source to give away her position and simply following him (slowly). Eventually, she heard a grinding of stone on stone as the ogre, confused and curious, decided to move the boulder to his secret exit in pursuit of the phantom voice, thinking it must be coming from the goblin caves. Azina was then able to recover both Dave's corpse and the ogre's great leather bag (which held his treasure), dragging both to the entrance and dropping them over the edge. The elf then tugged the rope until it released, and joined the wounded Ari in camp.

The next morning Azina buried Dave's body, perused the ogre's treasure, and cooked breakfast for herself and her companion (using rations and a healthy amount of the ogre's wheel of cheese) before studying her spell book to regain her ventriloquism spell. The two remaining party members then crafted a litter from the dead wood gathered previously, so that they could drag the huge sack of treasure back to the Keep. While Ari went to the chapel in search of healing, Azina (delighted in her new wealth) purchased a riding horse, tack and saddle, and saddle bags for herself.

Needless to say, Caro had a lot of fun and now wants to try her hand at being a dungeon master.
: )