Showing posts with label Esoteric Garbage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Esoteric Garbage. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

I'm Already Drunk, So Tell Me More about Your Livestock.

Worship at the alter of the Horse Gods
 Over the years I've found myself occasionally dove tailing down into the most esoteric of avenues in an attempt to mine some new territory where no one else has gone, or cares to explore. Usually it's a waste of time as I find myself just as disenchanted with the subject matter as everyone else who has avoided it like the plague; but lately I've been looking at beasts of burden in relation to Dungeons and Dragons and I'm actually fascinated by the subject. Yet this fascination does not have me ready to create a series of rules on the matter through which to torture your players ("Oh let's see, you're riding a Tennessee Walking horse? Well they can only travel fifteen miles a day before they begin to have issues so if you want to keep it healthy you'll have to double your travel time to Oklahoma City . . ."), instead I just want to talk for a few moments about the differences between horse breeds. 


Horses

One of the things that I'm learning is that each breed of horse has more benefits and disadvantages than just the color of the coat and the length of their mane. There are horses that are only for show and that can't be ridden for long distances. There are work horses who can pull tones but would fight you if you were fool enough to put a saddle on them. Then there are horses that can sense danger; that thrive in harsh environments, and some that need constant care and supervision. 

That there were such differences was surprising to me because all the horses I had ever been around didn't need any of that. A ready supply of water in the form of a pond and plenty of grazing land seemed more than enough. I've been around a dozen or so breeds so I had foolishly allowed myself to believe that all horses were so hearty. 

Then there's the war horses. By and large the majority of war horses are light breeds designed for speed and maneuverability over hulking beasts of burden that seem to dominate fantasy literature. Which only makes sense because you're not going to use the horse to run over your opponents like you would with an elephant; rather you're going to use them for the natural height advantage and for the increased speed they'll provide you. 

Granted you want something that will be able to handle all of the armor you're wearing and the bullshit you're loading them down with, but I think that's a mistake. If you look at the some of the greatest horse breeds - the Appaloosa and the Arabian for example - you'll find that they gained their greatest renown for how they were handled in combat by lightly armored, highly mobile riders. So while the game has you wanting to ride off into combat armored to the hilt like the Paladin and charging in with a Heavy Warhorse the smarter strategy is to ride a Light Warhorse and wear light armor so that you can move like a champ and gut the dork in armor.

There's a big difference between the fantasy and the reality there and I tend to like the reality better. It's more evocative of the Robert E. Howard tales that dominated my youth and that still influence how I think about combat. There's also my love affairs with the Apache, Comanche, and Mongol that push me more towards the light warhorse than his heavier counterpart. 

Arab Warriors on a Hillside by Adolf Schreyer
Mechanic wise there isn't a lot of difference. Between the Light Horse and the Heavy Horse you only have ten additional feet of movement for the Light and two additional points of strength for the Heavy. Essentially there is no real difference between the two and only your preference matters. Fuck you might as well say I like gray horses and El Cid rode an Arabian so I'll take a Light Warhorse for all the good it does you.

There's just not enough there to make any choice you make meaningful in relation between the light and heavy horses. 

Ponies

Telling all ya'll it's a Sabotage!
With ponies the game completely threw up it's hands and said, "Fuck it. We're just going to make them smaller horses for the small creatures to ride." And while that's one way to play it, they were so wrong to do that! 

There are ponies that make any horse smaller than a Clydesdale look like a chump. They're used for hauling heavy loads down narrow roads that would send trucks toppling down the cliff side. They've got breeds of ponies that survive in swamps and marshes that would break your horse's leg with their first step into the muck. There are breeds that full sized adults can ride and that are used today to help shepherds fight off rustlers.

I'm really amazed at how versatile the pony is and it kind of shocks me that they're so bland as they exist in the game. I mean you could take four breeds of pony and have enough variety to match most everything you could encounter in the game. I'm still processing a lot of this information and I find myself wondering why these two are treated so blandly in the game - well in most every game I've ever played actually. 

Why are we missing an opportunity to have some meaningful differences between these breeds? Is it because we're worried about the added complexity to our games? Seriously asking here guys.

Wednesday, March 5, 2014

Fearing What Change Does to You, I Threw Your Keys in the Garbage Disposal.

When Fourth Edition came out I bought the Player's Handbook and started working my way through it with a view screen in the hopes that I had finally found a game that I would be able to play for decades without even thinking twice about it. You see, while I started on Third and dabbled in the others, I was never very satisfied. 

I'm still not. 

So I approached Fourth with a lot of hope and took the view that I was being given the opprotunity to jump on at the beginning of the edition and would be able to buy everything new for the first time ever (at the time I had always gotten everything second hand). But working my way through that Player's Handbook I found myself becoming incredibly disinterested. 

The classes, while different, were too similar for me. A bigger detraction for me was that the variability between the classes was limited - especially when compared with Third. Then there were the powers. 

Look I know that I don't play Dungeons and Dragons like everyone else, and I've never claimed to be the same, but I don't play fighters so that I can bitch about not having magic. I don't like magic. I really don't like being forced to have a form of magic attached to my class. So imagine my delight when I found that I was going to have powers.

And then the pages of magic items with levels attached to them . . .

Generally I'm an early adopter of change when it comes to work, children, and in most phases of my life. I'm also one of the first people to alter the way things are going when I don't like the way they're working. Yet when it came to Fourth I found so much to dislike that I walked away from the edition. That was a mistake on my part as over the years I've seen others do some amazing things with that game that I never would have thought possible at the time.


My God, the Fourthcore cats knocked it out of the park! Sersa V where are you now?

Anyway I build folders in my computer where I design my house rules, handy tables, and generally reallocate my thoughts on the games I'm playing. For years before I started this blog I would sit down at my computer and work on how I wanted the game to play and where I wanted to go with it; and lately everything that I start to work on has to do with the new edition of Dungeons and Dragons. 

I'm hamstrung and feeling like I can't take the next step because I've gotten so used to sharing everything here on this blog. It's dumb but where I feel safe talking about the older editions I feel like opening my mouth too widely on the new edition is asking for trouble. 

Ah hell, it's only a four more months and then I'll be able to start running with the damned thing in publich. 

Four months is nothing.
I can stand on my head for four months.

Tuesday, February 11, 2014

So You're Picking a Race to Play?

I picked up a new player this weekend and he was wondering about the races available for play in Dungeons and Dragons. So here's a quick overview of our conversation.

Elves
From the Hippy Elf Chick Blog, read her, she rocks.
While some claim that I hate these tree loving, sheep fuckers that simply isn't true. They're the environmental, vegan, alternative medicine using free thinkers that tend to get themselves and everyone they love killed in a blood soaked dungeon.

Wait, didn't you tell me that in order to go through their entrance into Castle Greyhawk they wanted me to eat a human heart?

You really need to stop mumbling son, it's hard to understand you.

Dwarves

Cornish Miners circa turn of the century
Do you remember when you were little and sat on your front porch watching the miners come out with the billowing lime covering everything for miles around? They walked right down from the mouth of that cavernous shaft and made their way across the street to Milo's Grocery where they bought moonshine and smoked cigars until they fell asleep in the street and we all had to go around them while the cops took them over to the trailers where they could sleep until their next shift?

I honestly don't ever remember that happening.

You're basically talking about Dwarves.


Gnomes

Rodeo Clowns by Jennifer Heisler
These tiny little guys are the professional clowns of Dungeons and Dragons. They'll stand on a cliff casting an illusionary gigantic, neon, cock to distract the dragon so that everyone else can get away and then dodge the dragon's attacks for the next hour just for fun.

Do people actually play these guys?

After reading that description how could you not?

Half-elves

New York Dolls by Yoni Goldberg
The belligerent, half-breed children a kinder god would never have allowed to be brought into this world. Hated by the elvish kin and distrusted by their human relatives; these poor bastards wonder the world over creating their own place in it. If they're lucky they make it to old age, but far more likely is the dark truth that they'll die alone in some forgotten shit hole far from anyone they know and love.

So I shouldn't play them?

It's up to you.

Halflings

From the tumbler From Greece to Anarchy

A fool will tell you that halflings are nothing more than a cheep knock-off of J.R.R. Tolkien's hobbits, but listen to me and know that these bastards danced on the embers of falling civilizations and ground the hopes and dreams of millions under their boots. They come out of the darkness and perform their weird rituals and mad dances while the rest of the world cowers within their homes, under the covers and praying to unresponsive gods.

Am I supposed to want to play these guys or kill them?

Play them of course, they're not Kinder for god's sake.

What?


Half-orcs

Chosen Few History by Elliot Gold
Half-orcs are the hard fighting, motorcycle riding, outlaws of the world. Too savage to be civilized and too crazed to be anything but a savage misstep in the evolutionary history of the world.  They're brought into this world through compromise and improvisation but stare it down with hatred and an uncompromising viciousness that's shunned by the rest of the world.

I recommend playing them only after you've finished your drink.

You just poured me a glass of antifreeze. What the fuck kind of game is this?

Humans

From this year's Burning Man
Some say they're just waiting around for the massive implosion that's bound to happen sooner or later; while others say they're just looking for a good time aided by unbridled pharmaceutical enthusiasm. Either way, lately they've been burning a lot of shit in the desert and picking fights with every authority figure on the planet.

A good time to play one, don't you think?

Monday, February 3, 2014

Summoning Magic, Part 3: Unleashing the Elemental Swarm

Elemental Swarm
Conjuration (Summoning) [see text]
Level: Air 9, Drd 9, Earth 9, Fire 9, Water 9
Components: V, S
Casting Time: 10 minutes
Range: Medium (100 ft. + 10 ft./level)
Effect: Two or more summoned creatures, no two of which can be more than 30 ft. apart
Duration: 10 min./level (D)
Saving Throw: None
Spell Resistance: No

This spell opens a portal to an Elemental Plane and summons elementals from it. A druid can choose the plane (Air, Earth, Fire, or Water); a cleric opens a portal to the plane matching his domain.

When the spell is complete, 2d4 Large elementals appear. Ten minutes later, 1d4 Huge elementals appear. Ten minutes after that, one greater elemental appears. Each elemental has maximum hit points per HD. Once these creatures appear, they serve you for the duration of the spell.

The elementals obey you explicitly and never attack you, even if someone else manages to gain control over them. You do not need to concentrate to maintain control over the elementals. You can dismiss them singly or in groups at any time.

When you use a summoning spell to summon an air, earth, fire, or water creature, it is a spell of that type. (Wizards of the Coast, 3.5 SRD, Spells D-E).
Unlike the spell Creeping Doom (see Summoning Magic, Part 2: the Creeping Doom for more on this spell) there is no need for us to invent a third party intermediary for use in making Elemental Swarm functional in relation to how summoning magic works. Yet there is a rather large variable in how many elementals heed your summoning.

Now why is that?

According to our understanding of summoning magic (see Summoning Magic for more on this topic) our magic user has a connection to the summoned creatures that allows them only to pull a single creature – that we are magically bound to - of any given type into this world. Yet here we are presented with a variable amount of elementals that come to us when we summon them. Why?

While it is entirely possible that our magic user is able to make multiple connections to different elementals, binding each to them as they do so, we are still left with the question of variablity. Namely, if we have bound these elementals to our service in such a way that they can be summoned into this reality, then why are some of them able to defy our call?

Two answers come to mind. 

On the one hand we could determine that the reason for variability comes from the elemental’s innate nature which allows them to defy our summons at times, while at others they must heed us. Yet, on the other hand, we could say that our binding is to a single, powerful elemental, who heeds our call by sending his subordinates in his stead. This would explain the variability and hold to our original understanding of summoning magic with out introducing a needless check for determining the elemental's resistance to our summoning.

As this spell is a ninth level spell and would only be used by the most powerful of magic users it seems reasonable to assume that our magic user would be bonded to a powerful entity - one that might be able to pull on the magic user as well. 

My natural inclination is to have the magic user bonding themselves to the Elder Elementals. Perhaps without fully realizing the danger inherent in using these powerful beings early on, but with a growing understanding of the deadly potential this relationship represents for them. Maybe something similar to the way that characters in H.P. Lovecraft's stories slowly become aware of the corrupting nature of the forces their wielding . . .

I'll need to give this idea more time to marinate. More later.

Sunday, February 2, 2014

Is Dungeons and Dragons is a Race Fueled, Hate Machine?

There is a segment of this hobby that believes that the Dungeons and Dragons game is a racist, colonial extension of the American mindset drawing on our racially charged history to further propagate the idea that certain races are, by their very natures, somehow less than others. In order to further their assertion the proponents of this theory tend to focus on two avenues: the language used in the game; and the way that other, non-playable, races are treated by gaming materials through the use of racial alignments and the de-humanization of these creatures into moral caricatures.

I find this theory reprehensible and about as intellectually honest as those who proffer the Hollow Earth “truth.”[1] So as is my way I’m going to be working through each of these points and demonstrating how they’re built on false premises and draw incorrect conclusions based on the preconceived notions of their authors.

Language as Root Cause

One of the core precepts of this theory is that the language we use to describe our non-player races has a negative connotation designed to show these other races as lesser beings than the more complex and fully realized player characters. At times the other races are described as Savage. They travel in bands, and tribes; and exist as nomadic wanderers plaguing the civilized world. The problem with finding these terms objectionable occurs when you put them into the context they’re used as opposed to plucking them out of the text and proffering them to the world as proof of your own preconceived notions. The monstrous humanoids are called savage because of their “fierce and untamed nature,”[2] and not because they are some form of primitive that needs to be brought the light of civilization (see Dungeons and Dragons is Way More Racist than You Realize by Mark T. Hirsho for more).

“O ho!” I hear some of these supporters say, “but we don’t describe elves and dwarves as being grouped in bands and tribes. Clearly we do so with the monstrous humanoids to differentiate them as primitive tribes looking for the light of civilization!”

You betray more of your own prejudices by making such claims than do you articulate an argument in favor of your position. Bringing civilization to the wilds is not an activity inherently present in Dungeons and Dragons and if you encounter it in the game it is because you put it there.

Dungeons and Dragons is about exploring the wild places left in the world, finding long forgotten ruins, and returning to the safety of home richer and more experienced for the whole affair. We fight, we negotiate, we run from the monsters we encounter and we spend years developing complex strategies for dealing with the worlds we explore. We battle Slavers and turn back the vile machinations of mad demi-gods who would destroy the world. That’s Dungeons and Dragons; and the idea that all of that leads to colonialism is to misunderstand both the game and what happened during the colonial period.

The De-humanization of Non-human Races

It’s been argued that Dungeons and Dragons does nothing to encourage an understanding of the non-human races and instead goes out of its way to de-humanize them. Furthermore, this de-humanization is a direct result of our racism as we substitute the Other for the non-human races and allow ourselves to devolve in the worst manner possible (see Dungeons and Dragons and Racism by the Main Event, from the website Critical Hits for more).

This complaint is a modern dissatisfaction with the game manufactured by people who have little, to nothing, to do.

Without a doubt, we live in a world where morality is constantly in flux and it is hard to determine the motives of those around us. Every person we meet in this life has their own concerns, moral certainties, and stories. This is not the case for Dungeons and Dragons.

Gary Gygax once wrote “. . . This is a fantasy RPG predicated on the assumption that the human race, by and large, is made up of good people. Humans, with the help of their demi-human allies (dwarfs, elves, gnomes, etc.), are and should remain the predominant force in the world. They have achieved and continue to hold on to this status, despite the ever-present threat of evil, mainly because of the dedication, honor, and unselfishness of the most heroic humans and demi-humans-the characters whose roles are taken by the players of the game. Although players can take the roles of “bad guys” if they so choose, and if the game master allows it, evil exists in the game primarily as an obstacle for player characters to overcome. If they succeed in doing this, as time goes on, player characters become more experienced and more powerful - which enables them to contest successfully against increasingly stronger evil adversaries . . .”[3].

Let me put this another way.

The monsters are not stand-ins for the Other, but are designed as antagonists in the game that our players must overcome in order to progress. They are designated as evil creatures not because they stand in place of the Jew, Moslem, Black, or White but because it is the fundamental truth of the game that human beings – the people playing this game – are by and large good people. They are our contrast and our opponents; and without the conflict created by trying to overcome them there would be no game.

Your thoughts?


----------------------------------------------------
Notes

[1] While this theory has fallen to the wayside in recent years there is a small, but vocal group who continue to proselytize the idea that the world is actually hollow and that there is another, far better world inside. If you’re interested in finding out more about this try www.ourhollowearth.com

[2] The primary definition for savage as according to Webster’s New World dictionary (pg. 572).

[3] Gygax, Gary. Role-playing Mastery. New York. Perigee Books, 1987: 26 - 27.

Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Summoning Magic.

Over the course of the last few sessions of the Dyvers campaign my lovely wife has begun to develop here Sorceress into a pretty potent Summoning Mage. Which has been producing some really enjoyable results from my perspective; but I have a confession: I don’t know hardly anything about Summoning Magic.

In the nearly ten years that I’ve been running I’ve only had a handful of occasions when the magic user in my games has decided to Summon – which meant that most everyone else was as unfamiliar with the process as me – so I’ve always been able to just fudge the mechanics. However, with my wife getting really into this process it’s time for me to get off my rear and actually learn about this spell.

So that’s what we’re doing today.
“Summoning: A summoning spell instantly brings a creature or object to a place you designate. When the spell ends or is dispelled, a summoned creature is instantly sent back to where it came from, but a summoned object is not sent back unless the spell description specifically indicates this. A summoned creature also goes away if it is killed or if its hit points drop to 0 or lower. It is not really dead. It takes 24 hours for the creature to reform, during which time it can’t be summoned again.

“When the spell that summoned a creature ends and the creature disappears, all the spells it has cast expire. A summoned creature cannot use any innate summoning abilities it may have, and it refuses to cast any spells that would cost it XP, or to use any spell-like abilities that would cost XP if they were spells.” (Wizards of the Coast, 3.5 SRD, Magic Overview)
Let’s breakdown the salient points from this description of the Summoning Spell. (1.) the object or creature summoned appears in a place of your designation; summoned objects remain after the spell’s end but creatures do not; (3.) you can only summon one of any type of creature and if it dies under your summoning then you cannot re-summon it for 24 hours; summoned creatures will not use spells or spell-like abilities that cost XP; summoned creatures cannot hold any spells once they disappear.

There are some questions about these points that I need to address, though, before we move on to the actual spells.

Summoned Creatures and Their Possessions

According to the descriptor for Summoning magic creatures disappear when the spell ends but objects do not. Does this then mean that if a creature is summoned carrying an item that it will remain after the summons ends?

Not so much.

In the May 5, 2007 Sage Advice column this very question was asked. The Sage (who I believe was still Skip Williams at this time) replied “When a summoned creature goes away, so does everything it came with.

“If it’s holding or wearing something it didn’t appear with, that item drops to the ground in the creature’s space after it disappears . . .” (Source).

Now the interesting idea, at least to my mind, is that as a Summoner you can have your summoned compatriot retrieve most anything in the world, telling them any number of glorious lies, and then watch them disappear leaving it with you. Yet as appealing as that idea might be, the far more compelling idea is that the creature you brought into our world will take your most prized possession, hide it away, and then disappear into another realm where they then guard themselves from your re-summoning them to this realm.

The One True Celestial Dog

There is an interesting subplot working through these spells that had never occurred to me prior to reading the Summoning entry above: that for each of our characters there is only one creature that is ever summoned.

In the text above we’re told that a “. . . summoned creature also goes away if it is killed or if its hit points drop to 0 or lower. It is not really dead. It takes 24 hours for the creature to reform, during which time it can’t be summoned again . . .” (Wizards of the Coast, 3.5 SRD, Magic Overview). Which leads me to infer that for each magic user who summons a devil to do their bidding that there is only one such devil that they can contact.

In the terms of Third Edition this means that each magic user has a magical connection to one, individual, Celestial Dog and that only that single creature can be summoned when attempting to bring in that beast. In other words, though there may be hundreds of thousands of Celestial Dogs roaming about the planes only one of them is connected to your magic user and may be summoned by them.

That is a thoroughly interesting change in how the summoning spells should be thought about. Previously, I had always assumed that when you call on a Celestial Dog that you just happened to pull one from the ether to your side; but by this understanding of the spell you’re pulling the same Celestial Dog each and every time that you summon the creature. So doesn’t that mean you should know his name?

More later.

Tuesday, January 14, 2014

On Being a Hero, and the Illusion of Choice.

Over the last few months I’ve been reading a lot of archives, as you can imagine with the Great Blog Roll Call, and I’ve noticed that many of the bloggers I have read have come to the conclusion that while roguish characters are able to do anything they want and to exist in a fully free-form environment; heroes, on the other hand, exist in a limited environment where their freedom of choice is essentially illusionary.

Let’s look at an example:
A GM somewhere writes out the city of Metropolis and the city of Gotham and the rest of the world of DC Comics in excruciating detail. The train lines, the shop fronts, which hot dog store owners are secretly sharkmen, every inch of it. It's all ready to go.

Now here comes a PC playing Superman, into this sandbox.

"So what do you want to do today, Supes?"

"Uh, I guess I'll go on patrol."

Off he flies.

"Do I see any crime?"

"Umm, nope, not much, Metropolis is a f ully-f unctioning independent world going about its business."

"Ok, I keep going. Now do I see any crime?"

"Ok, some jamoke is robbing a bank."

"Well then I stop him!"

Now, what I want to say here is that this isn't really a sandbox. Why? Because Superman doesn't have any strategic choices here, really. He could decide to patrol (say) the docks instead of (say) the south side of town, but that's not a meaningful choice--i.e. it's like arbitrarily deciding "left or right"?

If nothing much is obviously going on, he keeps looking. If there's a crime, no matter how small, he has to stop it, because he's an Upright Hero. If there's a bigger crime, he has to stop that one first, because he's an Upright Hero.

While he has many interesting strategic and tactical choices about how to stop a crime, he doesn't have choices about which adventure to go on. ("Adventure" in the traditional sense--on his day off he could choose to stay home and read or curl up with Lois by the fire, but you get the point.)

Now let's say we have this same sandbox but the player is playing Lex Luthor.

"What'll we do this morning Lex?"

"Hmm...I say we send out some drones and look f or weak spots in the worldwide nuclear security apparatus."

"Do you have drones?"

"I'll roll on my Drone-Making. Oh, also, I want to blackmail the president, did I already say that? And then, hmm, I notice on this geological map that a mound of Fuckeverythingupium is just lying there underneath a mountain in Madagascar, I'll want some of that, and..."

In other words, whereas a villain confronted with a sandbox world will immediately start generating ideas, Upright Heroes (typical heroes) need a plot. Without the bank robbery, Superman would just endlessly circle Metropolis, then go to work at the Daily Planet. Without the whole problem with the Ring, Frodo would just sit and hang out in the Shire forever being wholesome and loyal and sipping tea. Without fires, firemen just hang out in their firehouse, Ever Vigilant, playing cards.

Now I don't actually want to talk about playing villains, I want to talk about playing Roguish Heroes. Grey Mouser, Conan, Cugel, Han Solo, and the stereotypically larcenous Old School D&D PC.

Now a Roguish Hero is not the same as a villain, and I am not saying everybody should play Lex Luthor but, functionally, pulpy roguish protagonists and villains have an important thing in common: they want something from the world. Gold, power, the admiration of attractive members of the opposite sex--something. The Upright Hero doesn't really want anything--or at least not anything that would bring him/her into violent conflict with the world as-is. The Upright Hero is not usually proactive, s/he waits until s/he sees injustice (even if it was an injustice that was there all along). Sandboxes And The Roguish Work Ethic by Zak S.
The goal of this example was to demonstrate that while each character had choices in how they acted during their time playing, only the Roguish character had true freedom of choice - while the Upright character only had the illusion of freedom of choice. Which would work if there wasn’t a false assumption involved in the example.

The false assumption in this example is that the Upright character is reactive, while the Roguish character is proactive. In other words, the Upright character only has the illusion of choice as he will always be reacting to the stimuli of the world by moving from location to location and acting based on what he encounters. By contrast, the Roguish character has actual freedom of choice as his actions are chosen not by reacting to the stimuli in each location but by proactively interacting with the world and creating the situations he encounters.

Which is a load of bunk.

At the start of play each character is presented a fully realized world. Then they are each asked the same question, “What are you going to do today?”

It is their answers to that question that dictates everything that comes after. Superman does not have be reactive by choosing to go on patrol. Instead he could be proactive and build himself a protective suit so that he can then fly about and eliminate all the kryptonite in the world; or he could choose to take Lois to Paris and screw until the world burns; or he could fly into Lex Luthor’s mansion and lobotomize him before he can cause real harm to the world. He has that freedom to proactively create the adventure he wants instead of reacting to the adventure he finds.

Once we dismiss the false assumption we’re left with a question: why do some players choose to be proactive and create the adventure they find, while others choose to become reactive and plod along in the adventures that finds them?

The answer comes down to the player’s motivation in the game. 

If you’re only looking to kill a bunch of stuff and take its loot then you’re not going to be waiting around for the plot to come find you. You’re going to actively seek out dangerous locations where treasure might be found and kill anything that’s rumored to have two coins to rub together – whether it’s the High Muckety Muck of St. Petersburg or the dragon that lives in Mt. Doom. But, if you’re looking for a world with a rich and detailed plot from the beginning of the game you’re going to be reactive to the world just like the Uptight character in the example I pulled from Zak S.

Let’s say that the problem in choice limitation isn’t based around the style of play adopted by each character, but by the moral limitations they place on themselves.

In this situation the Uptight character is compelled to react to the stimuli of the world because he cannot allow the bad acts of the villains to go unchallenged. In other words, he’s morally stupid and living in a black and white dystopia that will eventually drive him mad. The Roguish character, by contrast, is able to be proactive in relation to the world because his morals are assigned to a personal valuation. Therefore he is morally selfish and living a world where what the good is determined by how it benefits him and the bad by how it negatively affects him.

The problem is that the Uptight character doesn’t have to be morally stupid, just as he doesn’t have to be reactive. Instead he can choose to be a moral utilitarian or a moral pragmatist. As a moral utilitarian he will determine what is good as that which is best, by his own valuation, for the most people. So if killing the High Orc King of Mt. Tiny will save the people of his city, he’ll choose to do that. He’ll also choose to sacrifice a hundred lives to save the rest of the city - every time. But as a moral pragmatist the Uptight character will determine what is good as whatever is the best choice in his valuation given the present circumstances. So if charging down the stegosaurs saves his friends and family he’ll do it every time. He’ll also sack a temple of a false faith without thinking twice about it – after all, they should have chosen the right god to begin with. In each case the Uptight character will be able to exercise just as much freedom of choice as the Roguish character. 

Your thoughts?

Monday, January 13, 2014

Following Footsteps and Casting Shadows

This morning I was reading the article Resurgence of Gonzo by Norman Harman, from the blog Troll and Flame and it got me thinking about how there really isn't much of a chance for any of us to be wholly original. 

I should explain myself here. 

By that statement I do not mean that you cannot create an experience that is unique to you and your gaming group or that you cannot create a new thing that expresses your own unique view on the world and its influences on you; but, I do mean that there is nothing you can create that is without an outside influence that may be traced back to some earlier idea or thing you encountered previously. In simpler words, if you create a race of hillbilly dwarves it will be easy to demonstrate the influence of the trope and to point to similar works that occurred prior to your own creation as precursors. 

This is a fact of life: we are the culmination of our unique experiences and how we view, and interact, with the world at large is a result of those experiences. So being influenced by J.R.R. Tolkien or Jack L. Chalker and having our fantasy games take elements from those precursors is a natural extension of being human. That doesn't mean that it's okay to steal whole cloth from them and claim it as your own original idea, but you can take elements of their work and adjust it to fall in line with your own internal vision and sensibilities.

For example, I love the dwarves found in Terry Brooks' Sword of Shanara book. They're essentially a shorter stock of humanity that broke away from the more dominant branch after the fall of the old world - and naturally they tend to be miners. So for my games I'm going to make the dwarves a separate branch of humanity but rather than having them become shorter due to their time underground and the fall of the old world I'm going to have them being specially bred by a self-important corporation for use as engineers on galactic space freighters. 

Even in this idea, that I really enjoy, you can see influences that have shaped my internal vision. Not only can you see elements of Terry Brooks but there are also bits from William King's Gotrik and Felix novels, Jack L. Chalker's Midnight at the Well of Souls novel, Hewlitt and Martin's Tank Girl comics, and my own deep mistrust of corporations - which has more influences than I care to go into at this point. 

Now the dwarves I've created are original to me, but there is a clear line of influences in their creation. Does that mean that I shouldn't bring them into a game of Metamorphosis Alpha because they're the cumulative work of my experiences? 

Of course not.

If you were to eliminate all the races, settings, and games that were derivative works based on the efforts of those who came before them then you'd never play anything at all.

Wednesday, January 8, 2014

Getting the Most from Your Dice

When you roll the die it's important to remember that your form matters. Like the grip of a golfer how you manipulate the die before it's cast will determine success or failure. So let's look at the three keys to a good roll. 

The Three Keys to Success

1. Ensure that your dice are properly cared for. If you're going to be rolling a die ten, twenty, thirty times a night then you have to ensure that it's in good condition. Chips, bits of dirt, and even saliva from that foul girlfriend of yours can cause the die to fail a true roll. So before each game be sure to wash your dice with a coarse cloth and cool, soapy water. Then rinse it completely under warm water. Make sure that there's plenty of time for them to dry or your rolls will fail to provide you with your desired result.

2. Always use proper form when rolling. At the table you'll find different techniques for rolling and I cannot stress this enough: most of them are wrong. A proper roll begins with the die placed in the center of your palm. Next you should lay your pinky flat against your palm and each of your remaining fingers should be loosely laid on top in a stair like fashion. Now gently shake the dice in your hand four times to ensure that it has begun to move in a random, yet controlled, manner. On the fourth shake, release the die onto the table allowing it to come to a rest. If done correctly this should produce the desired results nine out of every ten casts. 

3. Check the level and cleanliness of the table. Just as your dice should be clean to ensure a true roll so too should the table. If it's littered with the remnants of food, ejaculate, and other ephemera then you can not possibly hope for a true result. So be sure to clean it with a soft cloth and a hot, soapy water.

The Trouble with War

 Recently I introduced a war into my home game. Two factions aligned against each other and they began fighting in the capital of Bissel, Th...