Quick and Painful

Welp, the new characters died.

*sigh*  It was unfortunate for them, but they were both smart and stupid (as PCs tend to be). Turns out the giant weasel was little problem at all: despite latching onto the cleric/ranger and sucking her blood, the enormous amount of hit points afforded by that class combo (we rolled HPs and she ended up with 15), allowed her to just survive long enough to deliver a killing blow (along with the assassin's arrows). The PC then decided to skin the thing for its pelt...after healing herself, of course.

[this was un-prompted by me, though I did make note that its fur was soft and luscious under all the blood. Had the two simply made off with the skin, they would have earned more than 10 times what the witch had offered to pay them for the kobold horns as, per the MM, giant weasel pelts fetch 1000-6000 gold pieces at the open market]

[if I had to guess, my daughter's thought to become a furrier was a holdover from UK2: The Sentinel, where they dealt with a fur trader and received giant beaver pelts as a reward. They ended up spending some of their hard-earned coin having a tailor line their armor with the stuff, as well as fashioning warm cloaks]

This image scared my son.

While the ranger was at work, the assassin decided to scout ahead (alone) and, attracted to the sounds of a general hubbub, blundered his way into the large cave that acted as the tribe's common chamber...said tribe preparing the evening meal. Rather than beat a hasty retreat, he decided to draw sword and engage the creatures, while calling for aid. Needless to say, this was just a Bad Idea, made worse by the ranger also deciding to press the attack even after the assassin had been downed. 

I have seen so many TPKs at the hands (claws?) of kobolds over the years. So underestimated. 

SOooo...once again starting over. Over breakfast this morning (and on our ride to school) the kids have decided to go a different way with their next characters: both are choosing humans this time, and they're going to try their hand at spell-casting. Diego says he's decided to make a cleric, and Sofia declared she wants a wizard, so we'll see how that goes. 

The alignment issue turned out to be a non-issue, and once again I think I'll just axe it from the campaign...or, rather, ignore it for the time being. I like the idea of "supernatural evil," whether we're talking demons, vampires, or gibbering hoards of subterranean humanoids with a taste for flesh, but the cosmic distinctions feel a poor fit. At least at this level of character (more on that in a later post). 

Right now, I've got to figure out what I'm going to do for the new re-boot. I'm averse to using the same scenario, even though circumstances could still apply (Larissa the fenwitch still has need of powdered kobold horn, and still is uninterested in obtaining it herself). But if the players really are intent on playing "squishier" types, they're going to need a place where they can obtain some stout fighting men for backup...the village on the fens isn't really the place for it (part of the reason Larissa was happy to give the PCs the job). Hmm...I've got some thinks to do...

Morality & Justice

AKA What I Learned from Saint Cuthbert

Yes, another post about alignment in Dungeons & Dragons.

My last post on the subject (just reread it this morning) is a good example of just how far down the rabbit hole one can fall when one spends an inordinate amount of time theory-bashing, putting the cart before the horse when it comes to world building ("cart") and running ("horse"). NOW...well, I've been running the game for a couple-three weeks, and I just wanted to share my experience. 

When we started this up, I decided to simply ignore the entire concept of alignment until such time as it became "necessary" to the game. There were a number of reasons I made that decision, but the main one had to do with laziness: I am running Advanced Dungeons & Dragons (1E) for small children, and I didn't relish the idea of putting a 9 point alignment system in terms they could understand (i.e. in a meaningful, playable way) when the concept is A) pretty shaky anyway, and B) mechanically meaningless. Besides which, as a parent to these small children, it's already my job to instill in them a sense of right and wrong, and I don't need to confuse that message with the artificial concepts of a game...especially a game that (often) celebrates murder and robbery.

We are, after all, Christians, and the main lesson of Christ is to love everyone (including one's enemies) as much as you love yourself. I'll be honest, I've been less rigorous in my proselytizing as I probably should be (given that we haven't been to Mass since February) but I try to point out examples as they come up in daily life. And they both understand that D&D is a game and that stabbing people is a "no-no" without me needing to throw down a disclaimer at the beginning of each session.

But rather than confuse things in their mind...forcing them to shift their paradigm of thinking when we're deep in the throes of imagining and expecting them to compartmentalize...instead of that, I've simply tried to create a bit more richness to the game world and pay closer attention to the depth of choices that abound AND the consequences of those choices.

Some examples:

The players were ambushed by a half-orc (read: "mutant") thief and his mountain lion pets while conducting a raid of the old goblin fort where the mutant made his home. The players won the fight, reducing the thief to negative one hit point which (per AD&D rules) left him alive. They then ministered to his wounds so he would survive, and took him hostage...for a time. What they found was that they had little use for an NPC who bore a great deal of resentment for the party (they'd invaded his home, killed his pets, robbed the place...not to mention beating the crap out of him); any "gratitude" he might have had for sparing his life was tempered by the overriding desire for revenge on his oppressors! 

The players on the other hand, were clearly loathe to murder an unarmed captive...what to do with the guy? Enslave him? Keep feeding him like a pet? After a couple-four days at the village where the players were staying, the town Elder asked the players to resolve the situation as it was making the locals decidedly uncomfortable (for a number of reasons). So they took him to the edge of town and let him go...basically banishing him into the wilderness, charging him with keeping his nose clean. This small mercy would give them a spot of trouble later, but in the end it was a decision they could live with.

In a later game session, the players were able to end their personal feud with a certain goblin tribe through a combination of negotiation and concession, sparing additional bloodshed (on both sides) and creating the possibility of allies while somewhat mitigating a local threat AND advancing their own goals.

In Saturday night's game, the players came upon a village that had been recently devastated by a band of gnoll raiders. Literally (per the adventure) there is NO ONE LEFT ALIVE in the place, except the gnoll chieftain (and his dog) who was abandoned by his own people for being too wounded to travel/fight. The players captured him pretty easily and, after getting what info out of him they could, were discussing what to do with him. I had the henchman magic-user blow him away with her single (unused) magic missile spell. She had, after all, been hired in this very village by the PCs a month earlier...she'd known these people and enjoyed their company, and this creature had led his people here to rob and slay every single man, woman, and child in the place. Killing him was justice for an unrepentant monster (who was only bitter at being left behind).

None of this has anything to do with alignment.

The plot of the adventure module (which I still plan on blogging about, one of these days) is that one ancient artifact of "good" (The Sentinel) has a beef with another ancient artifact of "evil" and wants the players to carry it into a final confrontation. But when one examines the reality of the artifacts' histories, it is clear they were simply created by two rival nations who were at war with each other...a war that has long since ended and which was won, rather peaceably, by the "evil" side (one kingdom being subsumed into the other). The sentient "good" artifact wants to be wielded by creatures of good alignment (and uses the know alignment spell to discover the proper person)...if PCs are unwilling or unable to use the item, the adventure provides a wandering 10th level ranger lord to which they can dispose of the thing...but this part of the narrative is completely unnecessary to the scenario. All it does is penalize (i.e. "You can't go on the adventure") players who don't buy into the module's heavy handed morality. Characters of evil alignment (not to mention druids, thieves, assassins, and bards, all of whom the Sentinel ignores) need not apply.

And considering the item's raison d'etre and purpose (a mutual destruction suicide run) the alignment of the wielder has zero impact on the possible outcomes. It doesn't even mean anything as far as forcing the players down a specific railroad: the item itself has an incredible 38 personality (the sum of its intelligence and ego). To put that in perspective, the Sword of Kas only has a 34 personality, and "will certainly attempt to control whomever takes it as his or her own." (DMG161) If the Sentinel wants to force the PCs to do its bidding, it has no need to appeal to their "better natures;" it can simply seize control, in what I'd argue is a typical hazard of D&D.

[Blackrazor's personality is only 33]

The POINT being (man, I wander) that alignment is easily removed from the adventure...and from the game...and isn't really missed. This is perhaps even more clear when one examines the second module in this series (UK3: The Gauntlet) and find the PCs in parley and allied with a lawful evil fire giant family.

But what of clerics and deities and extra-planar cosmic struggles? Because those things are often cited as reasons that alignment makes sense and should be retained (some have said that alignment ONLY makes sense because of this). But I've been thinking long and hard about clerics and religion and theisms (poly- versus mono-) lately and I had a bit of an epiphany the other day, spurred in part by a recent post at Grognardia: one does not need rival gods to have a multitude of competing temples and religions. Even in the medieval Catholic church, you have different orders, different saints, different motivations, not to mention multiple schisms, scandals and heresies.

Why do all clerical spells look the same (as opposed to water magic from sea gods and battle magic from war gods and whatnot)? Because they're all coming from the same divine source. The "lords of light" in my campaign are simply a collection of ascended saints and holy men. Saint Cuthbert, for example (if I ever decide to throw Hommlet into my world). But while a seaside fishing village may have a church dedicated to Saint Barto of the Depths (or whatever), and the people pray to him like travelers rubbing their medals to St. Christopher, everyone understands that their patron's power comes from a "higher source."

[where does this leave traditional "evil high priests" and their underlings? In the realm of demon worshippers and satanists (diabolists), I suppose, performing twisted "miracles" (reversed spells) due to the nature of their patrons. Does that make their patrons as powerful as God Almighty? Hardly. The evil cleric's magic is (for the most part) destructive in nature while the good cleric's heals, restores, and extends life. In the final race for supremacy, Good can be expected to outlast Evil]

All of which is a long-winded way of saying: I'm finding less and less need for alignment...for any reason...in my game. 

Issues like paladins' alignment restriction can be accomplished through oaths and vows; their penalties are, after all, based on behavior and actions taken. Assassins and thieves, purveyors in murder and theft respectively, need no artificial stamp of "evil" and "non-good" as their professions speak for themselves. Things like whether or not a patriarch will heal a character can be judged by what purpose such restoration will serve, regardless of what "alignment" is noted on the character sheet. Likewise, sentient magical items can decide for themselves whether or not a character's motivations fit their own.

[with regard to other magic items with effects based on alignment...a libram of silver magic versus one of ineffable damnation, for example...I think it's fine to allow use to any character, especially as no character can benefit multiple times from a work of the same type. Other items, like a talisman of pure good (or ultimate evil) are fairly self explanatory in their function, regardless of the existence of "alignment"]

In closing this post, I think it's important to consider that "heroism" may be more a matter of reputation than inherent propensity for good (or evil); heroes are known for their press releases far more than even their actions. After all, how many folks in the D&D world actually get to witness the party's fight with the dragon? Sure, sure, the PCs have the thing's head (and hoard) to show for their prowess, but tales of their battle might well be greatly exaggerated (and/or "spun") by the party itself...especially if less-than-heroic means were used to slay the beast. I am reminded greatly of Reid's Rangers, a band of NPCs from the Rifts RPG sourcebook The Vampire Kingdoms. Considered legendary heroes by the local population for their exploits in fighting blood-sucking extra-dimensional entities, they are (to a man) of evil and anarchist alignment, a group consisting of sadists, bullies, drunks, necromancers, and megalomaniacal narcissists. Still, because of their reputation they remain beloved by the people; it's one of my favorite write-ups in any RPG ever.

Removing alignment (as a system) from my game has not stripped it of meaning, nor caused players to devolve into murder-hobo lifestyle. BUT (and, yes, I want that "but" emphasized) this is mainly due to the PCs' actions having consequences in the campaign world. Behavior matters; reputation matters. Villages are not unlimited spawn points for hirelings, goods, and services...NPCs are not (all) nameless/faceless masses. Sentient monsters (like goblins) are not motive-less kills-waiting-to-be-tallied. Relationships matter, and issues of morality, justice, and honor all all tied up in those relationships.

At least, that's what I'm finding in my game.

Morality and the Cosmic Struggle

[quick note: I've decide to try moderating comments for the time being as I've been getting an excessive amount of spam lately, and it's become a real irritation]

This isn't really what I planned on writing about, but after reading Father Dave's recent post, I figured it was time to finally throw down my two cents on alignment, my (current) thoughts on the concept, and how it will apply in my game setting.

Over the years, I've gone back and forth on the subject many, many times. My current stance (which I've had for less than six months) is to use alignment in my game. Multiple reasons go into this decision that I [still] don't want to enumerate [yet]. However, I will assure the reader that NONE of those reasons stem from a personal desire to simplify the game ("Rules As Written!") nor make my DMing life easier. Finding a way to use alignment in a meaningful and effective way is actually more difficult and not a headache to be readily embraced; it certainly isn't a headache I've found terribly enjoyable.

Still, I think alignment is important to my game world, as the cosmology of the setting is at least as important as the physical geography to its overall design.

SO...having said that (and having spent the last few days going though the OD&D monsters and figuring out the IFs and HOWs needed to slot them into my setting), please indulge me a moment to talk about my personal viewpoints on evil and how it works in a game context.

Father Dave's post discusses the importance of evil as a concept for an RPG; how reducing the game setting to one of moral relativism (if I may be allowed to paraphrase) makes the struggle between selfish individuals (and the stories told of those struggles) both boring and pointless. I assume some folks would take umbrage with this statement, as "boring" can be recognized as a matter of taste (television shows that I find tedious are undoubtably stimulating to others) and "pointless" ...well, what can be more pointed than watching humans (and/or tieflings, etc.) struggle in the face of adversity? That IS the point of The Game, after all.

But I understand the good padre is writing from his stance as a Christian theologian and I respect his perspective.

[ooo...I can see the potential for this discussion to get nasty. Lots of people get LOTS of things out of D&D besides any potential "meaning" or morality lesson, people who hold the game on an equally high (or higher) pedestal. I really, really don't want to have that debate here. Please don't go down that particular road in the comments; yes, I understand D&D holds a lot of juice for a lot of people of all stripes and persuasions...]

For ME, it is important that my campaign setting is sensible; if the setting doesn't make sense to me, I will (eventually) become tired of and frustrated with the nonsensical elements until I chuck the whole thing...something that has happened many, many times to me in the past. I'd rather have a game setting that will last, oh say, a hundred years or so (enough time that it should outlive me) and my best strategy for doing so is picking an epoch in our real world past that is so far removed from today that who knows WHAT might have happened "way back then" (knowledge does tend to get lost after a few thousand years...). However, making use of our Real World means using a real world cosmology or, at least, a close approximation given the circumstances of the setting and the rules of the game; that, to me, is sensible.

So then what is "evil" as I believe it? Father Dave defines evil as the absence of God. "Goodness" is the same as God...God is the source of all goodness. The more you remove good/God from the equation the higher the degree of evil; the padre compares evil to cold, and God/goodness to warmth. Cold increases the more you remove yourself from the source of heat; add heat and cold is diminished. Easy-peasy...that's a fairly typical Christian perspective on the way the cosmos functions.

My own take is a little more New Age-y (I'm not the world's greatest Christian by any stretch): God is All; All is One. "Evil" comes from denying this fact...by separating ourselves (through thought and/or action) from the truth (or Truth) that All is One. Forgetting our place and our purpose as "higher beings," parts of God's whole, destined and designed to do God's will because we are one with God. Forgetting our higher purpose...or ignoring it, or working against it...results in the only "sin" that matters: selfishly separating ourselves from God. This causes suffering in the whole (for All is One)...it is a sin against God, against ourselves, and against our fellows for we are all part of a single whole.

But why does such sin (or the possibility of it) exist? Here, I'll take a page from Tolkien and draw the analogy that Eternity is like a grand symphony, composed of many notes, chords, rhythms, and movements. Only with an omniscient understanding can its whole be observed at once; only with the perspective of God can it be seen how one part leads to the next, how each portion is necessary to the whole. The struggles and challenges of those humans residing on our planet may seem terrible and terrifying...or petty and sordid...when viewed with only a limited ability to perceive. But that limitation, too, is part of the overall scheme and design of the composition.

Putting that into D&D language: I am using the three-point alignment system of Law, Neutrality, and Chaos in my setting. A Lawful person is one who actively does God's will (purposefully, though regardless of whether or not there exists understanding). "Persons" mean creatures with a level of intelligence rising to the level of sentience; "God's will" generally means living in harmony (with others and with nature), and generally promoting the same. There are very few species in my game that are (culturally) of the Lawful disposition; most are angelic beings.

By my definitions, anyone NOT actively doing God's will would be in the "evil" category (to greater or lesser degree), but the difference between Neutrality and Chaotic is a preferred distinction for my setting. While there are certainly selfish people out there who are more interested in their personal  desires than following the Law of One, not all are so wicked as to actively be working AGAINST the cosmic design (i.e. trying to create MORE separation from God). This, then, is the distinction: a Neutral person is not working to create a closer bond with God, nor are they working to undermine oneness (and, generally due to ignorance and disinterest, these may perform deeds at various times that move the needle one way or the other: helping an individual in need one day, while cheating someone else another). These maintain the "status quo" of life on Earth, perpetuating its cycles, and maintaining the possibility to join one side or the other. In contrast, the Chaotic person, by thought and deed, continuously pushes to destroy One-ness through selfish aggrandizement, exploitation of others, and general awfulness.

Regarding non-sentient beings: most are of the Neutral alignment (all "natural" creatures, for example) unless their very nature is an offense to the natural order: undead creatures, for example, or certain magical abominations created by stray and terrible magics (like trolls). "Demons" are not "fallen angels" in the Milton sense, but there are certain ethereal beings whose interaction with humans usually take a malignant turn (for the humans), much the same way that interacting with other "forces" (fire, gravity, etc.) have the potential to cause harm to the unwary; such forces are labeled as "Chaotic" due to the danger their interference poses to humans attempting to follow God's will. Such creatures (and those who harness them as tools in their quest for personal power) provide a steady source of conflict in the setting.

Hope that all makes sense.

This, by the way, has brought up other headaches...er, "interesting challenges"...with regard to the design of the campaign's mega-dungeon. Licancabur is a natural formation, one that in recent centuries has been sacred and holy to the people of the region, much as such sites (Olympus, Rainier, Danali) have been sacred to other peoples throughout history. Moreover, nature may be aloof and uncaring to the wants and needs of human beings, but that doesn't make it evil...merely dangerous. So what "lawful" reason could there be for adventurers to delve its ancient depths, explore its hollowed out volcanic tubes, slay its denizens, and pillage its treasures? If Licancabur is not some sort of gateway to hell, what gives them the right to ravish it, sword in hand?

Corruption. Perversion. The temple has become a den of inequity. The hallowed halls are defiled with mutants and monsters of the vilest sort. Something must be done to return the place to a state of grace, though it may take years, and the blood of many would-be heroes, to do so.

And, for now, that's enough to kick-off a campaign. Because my setting takes place some 9000 years before the time of Christ, there are no Judeo-Christian-Islamic religions in the game, but there are religious orders and clerics. The line between magic-users and clerics is very thin, in my setting, the difference being mainly one of perspective and mission. Only followers of the Law of One have access to the full range of healing powers; worshippers of false gods and natural powers are little more than hedge wizards, and idolatrous demon-worshippers have no access to healing magic at all, being only capable of harnessing the powers of malice and harm for their personal "benefit."

Magic-users as a class hold themselves aloof from matters of the spirit and worship, but they are aware of the way the cosmos works, and ignore it at their own peril. Many wizards, lacking wisdom or lost in their pursuit of knowledge and power, will tread the path of chaos. Bad things undoubtably await them (in this life or in the next), but such a road will not curtail their progression.

My use of alignment in D&D isn't meant to dictate behavior, neither with regard to players, nor their characters. With regard to player characters, alignment is a stamp and statement of where their souls lie in terms of the cosmic struggle. There is no requirement to "act one's alignment:" presumably, a character's actions will stem from a [Lawful/Neutral/Chaotic] motivation, and even if not, so what? Individuals slip up, make mistakes, and act against type. Lancelot sleeps with the wife of his friend and liege. Hercules gets drunk and kills his family. Darth Vader decides he'd rather go out a hero than watch his son be murdered. Do such deeds make up for a lifetime of goodness/badness? Maybe, maybe not...the player is free to discuss a possible alignment change with the DM (me) if she wants to entertain that possibility.

Regardless, I'll assume that the character is doing plenty of acts "off-screen" that readily bolster and justify the alignment chosen.

Actions have consequences...all sorts of consequences. Kill all the lizard men in the local swamp and you have no lizard men. In some ways, this is a good thing: fewer dangers in the swamp (if the lizard men were apt to ambush unwary travelers), perhaps more game to be found by the locals (since the lizard men aren't hunting it). Perhaps, though, the lizard men acted as a natural "buffer zone" between the local village and a different threat of some sort, a more dangerous tribe of creatures that will now take their place. Perhaps the lizard folk worshipped a black dragon and their occasional "sacrifices" kept the thing from looking for prey elsewhere. Perhaps they hunted a particular type of animal that is difficult for a non-scaly hunter to eradicate, and now the unchecked pest threatens to overrun the swamp...maybe some sort of giant spider whose venom was ineffective against the lizard people (but is fatal to humans).

The point is: the genocide of the lizard people isn't necessarily evil...it may have been an expedient solution to a very real problem. But actions have consequences, and there may have been more than one solution to "the lizard man question." Finding a harmonious approach is, generally, the Lawful way, as I'm defining the term...but sometimes, stamping out a Chaotic threat IS the "Lawful" method needed.

But that isn't to say my world is one of moral relativism; I personally don't believe in moral relativism, and since my setting is my own, personal creation, I get to determine the truth of the matter. So there are absolutes of good and evil, right and wrong, broadly defined as moving in alignment with God or against God. And unfortunately, for most humans trapped in a fallible bodies of limited perception, having actual knowledge of what is God's will is pretty much impossible to fathom. Which is why we rely on the wisdom of priests and the teachings of religions for guidance. It's only too bad that the priesthood and writers of religious tracts are (mostly) composed of fallible humans of limited perception.

*ahem* Anyway, having a system of alignment allows me to shape the scope of my setting in (morally) absolute terms: these creatures are an abomination, these magic items are designed for the use of Law, these spells can only be used in the service of Chaos, etc. Alignment allows me to steer the tone of the game and provides a convenient shorthand for defining the nature of the cosmic struggle in my own morally absolute terms. It provides another layer to the physics of the game world, an extra dimension of challenge to be navigated, an additional meaning to the experience of play.

Again: its purpose is not an edict of player (or character) behavior.

That being said, it would probably be strange to have both Lawful and Chaotic characters in the same adventuring party.

Race, Racism, Alignment, and Evil

Apologies in advance: I should probably break this down into a number of separate posts. But I'd rather just lance the whole topic in one shot rather than prolonging the suffering.

Let's start with the basics: I'm about 10 seconds away from cutting alignment out of my D&D game. Yes, this is something that some folks (like the much esteemed Alexis Smolensk) has been advocating for years...blogging about it as recently as last week. But it's not Alexis who finally broke my back on the subject (even if he did lay a lot of the initial groundwork); rather, it was G.A. Barber's recent posts on decolonization, integration, and racist tropes in D&D.

And orcs. Thinking about orcs. Really just...orcs.

We're going to bring this around to the Icespire Peak thing in a second (that's a factor), but let's start with the orc thing first. I wrote a rather long comment/response on Barber's post that was either eaten by the internet or hasn't been approved. Doesn't matter either way because it was kind of dumb. But here's the summarized thought (refined a tad):

- While I understand the tropeyness of monocultures (an "elf nation," "orc nation," etc.) is both banal and uncomfortably similar to racist stereotypes (e.g. "all African nations are the same"), it's tough to separate from this when I want non-humans to represent a small segment of the world's sentient population (in comparison to humans, who are prolific and diverse). I'm more inclined to handle these monocultures as Gygax does the Drow in module D3: have a variety of internal factions, conflicting political/religious groups, and rogue independents within the monoculture. Another example might be the dwarves of Krynn as presented in the novel War of the Twins.

- That being said, there's an additional challenge: I like my tropey evil species. I like dragons that are greedy. I like goblins that are sneaky gits. And I like orcs to be scourges on the civilized species, whether because of some genetic curse or their innate subservience to some Dark Lord (Sauron, etc.). I understand this is a callback to European views of the Mongols or Huns (did Eastern nations view Alexander in the same fashion? Maybe) and, admittedly, lazy as far as world building. But what's the alternative? Feeling bad about killing orcs and taking their stuff? When we could be building bridges with and finding empathy for another sentient, misunderstood species?

[this is still D&D we're playing, right? A certain type of escapist fantasy that allows us to expediently resolve conflict with swords and spells, unlike the real world. Superhero fantasy (where conflicts are resolved with mighty fists instead of thoughtful dialogue) is similarly lazy and escapist, but sometimes we want that, right? Or not?]

- But even saying I go partway here towards "understanding orcs" (at least understanding that they are a group of homocidal, unreasoning inhuman humanoids), we can start to say HEY there's really no such thing as "evil races" and "good races" only SELF-INTERESTED peoples. Just like real life nations. Dwarves (or elves or orcs or whoever) might appear stand-offish to outsiders, but if your interests align with theirs, they're happy to become helpful, friendly allies. On the other hand, when your interests and theirs conflict, they're similarly likely to become enemies at the gate. And unfortunately for the orcs, the ethics and values of their particular "society" (such as it is) is quite likely to be at odds with those of (most) human communities.

[side note: I think it was the 2nd or 3rd edition of Warhammer 40,000 that suggested or implied that orcs were a plant-like species: the green skin/blood being related to chlorophyll, their seeming indifference to pain or lost limbs, their driving motivation to compete and expand like a hostile plant being introduced into an unprepared ecosystem. I do kind of like this idea, but D&D already has vegepygmies]

[hmmm...are vegepygmies kind of racist?]

Moving on from Barber's post (and my comments), this idea of "self-interest" echoes back to my thoughts on the nature of capital-E EVIL in D&D (advanced or otherwise). I wrote about this waaaaay back in 2010, when I realized there really shouldn't be a separate "holy" and "unholy" version of spells, water, and symbols. To the priest of Satan (or whoever), her symbols, spells, and special ointments are all "holy," and the implements of different faiths/religions are "unholy" or "blasphemous." Our perceptions are colored by our own values and self-interests, especially as ingrained in us by our parents/family/elders/teachers/society.

That doesn't mean everyone is a SELFISH BASTARD! There are still people in the fantasy world that are taking actions that enlightened 21st century (and, in my case, Christian) folks would consider "good" or "altruistic." Self-interest doesn't preclude acts of charity and kindness, if those things are of value to the particular fantasy being in question. Orcs, however, may not have those values by definition of their "particular society." A few outliers aside (as always).

Back to the Dragon of Icespire Peak adventure: the adventure background concerns a white dragon moving into the territory and setting up shop. This sets in motion a number of events, including the forcing of orcs (the dragon's convenient prey) out of their usual territory, forcing them into conflict with the nearby human settlers. Again, I will say this isn't a terrible premise for an adventure...it is in fact, a very reasonable, realistic scenario. In a fantasy world of monsters eating and enslaving other monsters, it's only natural that such a chain of events would occur (the dragon in the adventure is youngish and was forced out of its territory by other, more powerful dragons...similar to a young lion being forced from the pride by the alpha male). The problematic part of the adventure is the execution of the scenario: kill encroaching monsters (orcs or otherwise), level up, kill dragon, yay...all for little or no reward.

Do I want to take out the orc fights? No, not necessarily. Do I want the PCs to peaceably "integrate" the orcs into their society? No. Even if they were re-skinned as "barbarous hillmen" (or something) I want to retain the cultural differences and conflict. I do not want my Dothraki walking around and enjoying the culture of King's Landing in some fantasy version of Renaissance Venice, okay? Keep that shit to the final episode...er, session of the campaign when you're done with "adventuring."

But do you see where I'm going with this line of thought? There's no need for alignments...especially monster/species designated alignment...in a campaign world based on thoughtful self-interest and reasonable motivations. THAT is why I'm finally, finally willing to take a hard look at axing alignment from my game, after years of resisting the idea. In B/X this isn't difficult: "evil" (for purposes of detect evil, protection from evil, etc.) is only limited to supernatural evil of the undead or demonic variety, with "evil" being defined as "contrary to the natural order of the world." Here are the only other considerations, as far as I can recall:

Alignment language: I don't use it anyway.
Intelligent magic weapons: even without alignment, such items have an ego and an agenda, and will attempt to control a character. I see little reason to do the "gotcha" damage from picking up a weapon of different alignment; being mind controlled by an intelligent sword is "gotcha" enough.
Alignment changing magic items: there are better, more interesting cursed items to include in a campaign world.
"Good" alignment play for adjusting XP acquisition: No.
Alignment restrictions based on class: I'd address this on a case-by-case basis.
- Assassins: originally required alignment was "neutral." Evil is as evil does: no restrictions.
- Bards: requiring "some sort of neutral" is the same as no requirements. Duh.
- Cavaliers: PHB only, please.
- Clerics and Druids: see the bit about holy symbols above. Priestly types are expected to follow the tenets of their particular faith in order to produce magical effects. Failure to do so might result in loss of abilities.
- Monks: have you not seen Iron Monkey? Look at the main villain.
- Rangers: I'm not running a Middle Earth campaign. These are outdoorsy hunter dudes, and that doesn't require a "good" alignment. Other restrictions certainly apply!
- Thieves: plenty of examples in fiction of "heart-o-gold" thieves; see Grey Mouser. Not sure why there was ever such a restriction (I think, back in the day, we house ruled this to "non lawful" instead of non-good).
- Paladins: the most problematic of the bunch, and my main impetus for years for keeping alignment (even when not playing AD&D!). I know that I still want "behavioral restrictions," but I don't want to tie them to DM fiat of what is or isn't being "true" to the lawful good alignment. Are the paladin's abilities supernatural? Yes. So then, as with other spell-casters, they are tied to their beliefs as self-imposed strictures (like a wizard's taboos against weapons). As such, I'd probably set a number of tenets/laws (similar to the cavalier's "code of conduct" in the UA) that such a character would not be able to transgress without the loss of her abilities.

All right. I think that's about all I want to say on the subject. Next post will be shorter (I think) and address the "vanilla fantasy" setting that is the Forgotten Realms.

Not all orcs are alike.

The Fall of Gondolin

I have three fat hardcovers sitting on my nightstand ("bedside table") at the moment: The New Urban Crisis (by Richard Florida), Crude Volatility (by Robert McNally), and The Fall of Gondolin (Tolkien, compiled and edited by his son Chris). Two of these were procured from my public library, the third was purchased new from the local Barnes and Noble.

Guess which one I chose to own.

I've been wanting to write a post for a while about fallen "lost kingdoms" in the fantasy setting...not only the ubiquitousness of the trope (going all the way back to Plato's Atlantis), but the absolute usefulness of such for your fantasy adventure game (or literature, for that matter). Having an Atlantis (or Lemuria or Numenor or Valeria or whatever) can be used to EXPLAIN so many things in your setting...like, where did these weird monsters come from, who invented magic, why are there dungeons dotting the wilderness, etc. Not only that, but with enough time having passed between the fall of the ancient empire and the "present day," there's plenty of excuse for a DM to change meanings/explanations with "new revelations," as warranted by situation and circumstance.

[plus, I have to say that I love...and am happy to steal...certain concepts that come out of these fallen empire tales. I think Martin's "Valerian steel" makes a great justification for a +2 magic blades, for example (+1 blades being of the "castle-forged" variety) and I once did a whole magic system based on MZB's Fall of Atlantis book]

But Gondolin is a little different.

I've long been fascinated with Gondolin. Really. I purchased my copy of The Silmarillion probably in the early 2000s (before I started this blog, but not long before) mainly to read about this place (Gondolin) that I'd only heard of...anecdotally...in Tolkien's more famous novels (though wasn't I glad to find all the other juicy fantasy goodness therein!). I'm almost positive my first exposure to "Gondolin" as a concept was during my reading of The Hobbit (sometime in elementary school) when Elrond informs the protagonists that their swords were made in Gondolin for "the Goblin Wars" and that Glamdring had once been worn by the king of Gondolin.

And I'm sure that I probably confused Gondor with Gondolin the first time I started reading The Lord of the Rings (around middle school)...though by the time I finished the trilogy (late in high school) I managed to figure out these were two VERY different things in Middle Earth, in terms of both place and history.

The Fall of Gondolin book is new, a compilation of all the tales written of Tuor (a human transplant to the elven stronghold) and the final days of the city-state, plus commentary and history provided by Chris Tolkien. It is not a single tale, but a record of the many times Tolkien sat down and rewrote the thing. After all, it was the first of his (written) stories of "Middle Earth." For those who haven't read it, I'll provide am all-too-brief synopsis:

Tuor a pseudo-neanderthal hobo wanders the wild coastline for many years, wishing he had a boat. One day a god rises from the sea and gives him a message to deliver to Gondolin, along with an elven Sancho Panza sidekick to show him the secret entrance to the city, which is hidden inside this circle of mountains. The message: the elves of Gondolin need to stop sitting on their duffs and take the fight to Melko (later Morgoth, AKA Satan) or their city will fall. High King Turgon likes the young man but has zero intention of marching to war when he's spent centuries building up his arsenal behind the most siege-resistant city that ever existed. Tuor quickly gives up his task, partly because he prefers civilization but mostly because he's smitten with Idril, the king's daughter. Once he's shaved and groomed, she likes him, too, and they get married.

Unfortunately, there's another elf, Maeglin (cf. Iago) who's not thrilled with Tuor's arrival, and doubly irritated with his marriage into the royal family (something he hoped for himself). While wandering in the mountains, he's captured by Melko's minions and turns coat, agreeing to aid in taking the city. Melko starts kitting out his army in plans for a sneak attack.

Meanwhile, Idril has a premonition/dream that things are about to fall apart and tells Tuor that he needs to gather some loyal henchmen, dig a secret escape tunnel out of the wine cellar, and  don't tell Maeglin anything. Fortunately, Tuor is like most of us and has an easier time following directions when they come from his wife than when they come from God. When the sneak attack arrives during a city-wide holiday party he's not totally unprepared and is able to muster the city's defenses (as much as can be managed against a combined force of balrogs, metal-plated fire-wyrms, and more orcs than the world has ever seen). It's a lost cause and a lot of heroes die heroically, but Tuor is able to escape the final sack of the city...along with his wife, child, and a few hundred followers...and make it back to the safety of the wilderness. The End.

[Maeglin, in case anyone was wondering, gets thrown off a building (by Sancho, I think)]

It's a nifty little tale, both vivid and gripping, and I find it fascinating that Tolkien wrote it in 1917 while recovering from trench fever during the Great War (i.e. World War I). It was the first story he wrote of his Middle Earth "mythos," long before his children were born and he started telling them hobbit stories at bedtime. It was based in large part on his experience with a mind-shattering war, and it is the foundational piece around which he had to fit all his other later stories (the Simarils, the War of the Ring, etc.). He attempted re-writes of the thing multiple times over the course of his life, but only his first draft was ever completed...though for me, despite its flaws, it reads with the kind of mythic majesty that one only finds in the fiery inspiration that first births such creations.

[I'm not really trying to be "poetic" with that last sentence...I'm trying to sum up my feeling on the subject in a single thought. I've had similar experiences with my own writing (at times); I've known other artists who had similar experiences with their works of art...not just writing, but visual, or musical. Sometimes some raw creativity gets lost in later attempts at refinement. Perhaps that's one of the reasons that we tend to hold the works of young artistic geniuses in high esteem, as over time the fire dims and one's accomplishment shifts to longevity and quantity of output from actual, creative quality. Maybe...but I digress]

Anyway, for a D&D setting, such an event can serve some of the same purposes as any other "fallen kingdom" story. It can explain why a people (elves, in this case) are scattered and few and don't build cities or particularly large communities. It can explain why certain magic artifacts have been scattered about (looting, refugees). It can provide a large adventure-site for exploration (if you can find one of the secret ways that lead to its ruins)...one somewhat easier to get to than a sunken island.

For me, I also look at the tale as one with a lesson to be learned regarding good and evil. Well, maybe more of a reminder than a "lesson." It's a reminder that when there's evil in world, evil that we're aware of, we need to find the courage to confront it, rather than sit in our comfortable, protected strongholds...especially if you have the power to do so. Turgon was given a great gift in Gondolin: a place to build his city in peace and security, a place to grow his people, a place with the time and resources to equip them with the tools needed to wage war against a real force of evil in the world (Melko). And then he sat on them. And did nothing. And a god sent a messenger to tell him to get it in gear. And he still sat, comfortable and complacent and secure.

And while he did that, evil bided its time, and found a way to destroy everything Turgon had created.

Maeglin was a bad actor who helped bring down Gondolin, but there are always bad actors. Appease one...or exile him or make him a "non-person"...and another one will probably, eventually show up to spoil your applecart. Even if Maeglin had not been tempted by evil left unchecked, someone would have. That is what evil does: it sways us to its side and corrupts us, makes us forget our better, higher purpose. Tolkien's allegory is often blunt in this regard (orcs being corrupted elves, balrogs being corrupted angels, etc.), but Maeglin is a far more subtle one...and just as true.

We live in an imperfect world, and we are imperfect people. It makes for a good testing ground for us, a place to develop our souls...it also (to use Tolkien's creation allegory) makes for a rather amazing symphony of divine music, when one can see it from a "higher perspective," filled with dazzling notes of touching beauty. But that development of our souls requires struggle...painful struggle at times. No, we can't ever achieve "total victory" over capital-E evil, no more than we can ever file off all the flaws that lurk in the shadows of our own hearts. But then, "victory over evil" isn't really the point...it is the struggle, the fact that you have the courage to try, and the conviction to endure the test...to strive against that which we know is wrong IS the point. The striving is what matters.

Failing to stand against evil may buy you some time, but it always, eventually leads to ruin.

Nothing lasts forever.

Comparing DMGs (P. 3a)

As we continue our comparison of the original (AD&D) Dungeon Masters Guide and the 5th edition version, we leap into the nitty gritty of "what it's all about," i.e. adventure creation. Without adventures, there's really no game play, and creation of adventures is the main responsibility of all Dungeon Masters. Well, unless you just want to run pre-packaged adventures all the time (but then, what are you getting out of being a DM? Free beer?).

Starting with the DMG5, we come to the largest section of the book: Masters of Adventure (Part 2), consisting of five chapters (Creating Adventures, Creating NPCs, Adventure Environments, Between Adventures, and Treasure). After reading the first three posts of this series, folks are probably expecting me to rant even more about how much 5E sucks (in and of itself, or in comparison to older editions). Au contraire, mon frere! There's actually a lot of good stuff in this section of the DMG5, and some of it that I quite like. 

That being said, it's still something of a mixed bag, and (for me, anyway) gets off to a rocky start. I'm an old school D&D player from way back (by which I just mean "I'm old" and have been playing the game since before the TSR overhaul of '83), so I take some umbrage with the idea that D&D adventures are "stories," at least in the same way as a TV show, novel, or film. For me, D&D adventures are stories in the sense of a horrific weekend camping trip: something you can talk about, complain about, laugh about, and have fun embellishing once you're back, safe and sound in your "normal" environment (home, office, etc.). Some camping stories are so memorable that they'll be brought up and discussed years later...some are only have enough pizazz for the Monday morning water cooler talk. They are "war stories" for people who don't actually go to war...that's kind of how I look at them. The "story" that's told is simply of the experience...an experience that was exciting and/or traumatic at the time, but really just an excursion, an escape from the usual "daily life."

No, no: D&D adventures (for me) are not formulaic stories. They don't involve heavy use of theme, they don't have rising action, twists, climax, and denouement except and unless such is provided by the characters' actions and the random fall of the dice. Certainly such things shouldn't be scripted like a film or TV show, nor should there be written dialogue or narration to perform. Fantasy gaming is fiction, but we are not creating a work of fiction in the literary sense.

[by the way, I'm only talking about D&D here; there ARE role-playing games designed for creating stories, addressing premise, etc. and I appreciate and enjoy those on occasion. They are a different type of RPG from D&D and have different elements of design that facilitate their objectives and style of play. Those DO create something like a work of fiction through the shared experience of role-playing...that is their purpose. But I'm talking about D&D gaming in this series, okay?]

So the introduction to this section of the DMG5 isn't great when it states that adventures are fundamentally stories and compares them to works of fiction. However, it follows with Elements of a Great Adventure, all of which are good (except for the Something For All Players portion...I disagree strongly with their "three pillars" bullshit), and seems to fly in the face of their "adventures are stories" statement (see the Heroes Who Matter paragraph). There's good, actual guidance here. But then it gets back to this "story" concept (after a rather large section justifying why you should buy published adventures...Gygax might write a sentence or two in passing suggesting you check out a published TSR module, but 5E will fill a third of a page to sell you on the idea), and how to structure your adventure like a story, with a beginning, middle, and end that just smacks of leading down the road to railroad style play, even if the authors are fairly explicit in advising DMs against railroading.

After that is 9-10 pages of tripe (random tables of "ideas" to create your adventure "story") before we get to what is arguably the most important part of the DMG5: Creating Encounters. Here's the section that finally tells us how we DMs are going to bestow rewards that lead to that improvement of character every player salivates for. First there's the obligatory braindead section entitled Character Objectives that seems completely out-of-place with everything that follows (especially as there are no guidelines presented as to how to reward non-combat character objectives like those suggested. Yes, players will want their characters to do things other than fight...why do you need to list "some of those things here" when they're not pertinent to the rules being presented? Just let them do stuff...STOP FILLING YOUR PAGE COUNT). Then we get to the nitty-gritty of Creating Combat Encounters. And even though I dislike and disagree with the method of earning XP in these later editions of D&D, this isn't a bad section and seems fairly good at estimating challenge level based on the few numbers I ran.

For example, I applied their number schemes to the old tournament portion of I1:Dwellers of the Forbidden City (after converting monsters to those of the 5E MM), and found the challenges appropriate for the 6-person, tournament party with a good mix of all four difficulty levels. I don't know how well their math holds up for their "Adventuring Day" chart, but at least I could follow their instructions...here, where there are actual rules, the DMG5 does a good job explaining a complex concept. Likewise, much of the "advice" section here is good (even in the Random Encounters section...though I dislike scaling random world encounters based on PC level). One thing seems clear: after making D&D all about the combat the last 15 years, they've gotten pretty good about the balancing act of challenging player characters.

Mmm...looks like I'm going to have to break this post up like the last one. Chapter 4: Creating Non-Player Characters is on par with the random tables provided in the original DMG; however, the latter book does more with less (managing to include detailed examples of NPC organizations/reactions, how interactions vary based on type of NPC, costs for spell-casters' services, hiring of non-human troops and how they get along). This section really needs to be used in conjunction with the spot NPC write-ups in the MM5 and the hireling section of the PHB5. While I like the villain options, I dislike them being here...if they are player options, put them in the PHB. Make a decision, take a stand: are evil player characters an option? Or are you going to go the "heroic" way of 2nd Edition? In the latter case, throw death clerics and anti-paladins in the MM and be done with it. Oh, and find a rogue archetype to replace the assassin while you're at it (how about a mountebank?). Why is there an assassin option in the PHB5, but the Death domain and Oath-Breakers are in the DMG? Because assassins are Sooo Heroic, right Assassins Creed lovers? Jesus H.

Okay, the last three chapters of this section are all good, mostly good, or excellent. I'll deal with Treasure first (even though it is the last chapter of the section). I'm not going to comment on the actual treasures or the new way of distribution: they're the same old-same old for a different edition that has its own system of parceling 'em out. What's great here is the Other Rewards section, which nicely consolidates a lot of different prizes adventurers might achieve: land grants and titles, blessings and charms, strongholds and medals and special training. A lot of good ideas here (many new) for carrots to dangle in front of the noses of players. And since 5E doesn't award XP for gold, this is a good way to make rewards mean something, as well as provide incentives for adventure.

Backing up, Chapter 5: Adventure Environments is the true "Creating Adventures" chapter, not that earlier, rollin-random-table-to-find-arch-villain-motivation thing. There's still a bunch of filler random tables that are high on my dumb-dumb scale (ah, yes...this dungeon, found beneath a farmhouse, was created by a lawful good beholder (without hands) to serve as his tomb until it was conquered by invaders...). After THAT, however, you get good sections on dungeon inhabitants and factions, dungeon ecology, MAPPING the dungeon, standard features (doors, secret doors, etc.), lighting, air quality, and hazards (molds, slimes, webs...what, no bottomless crevasse?). These are real rules and guidance, not random tables of ideas. This is followed by the WILDERNESS section, which is also good, detailing travel, mapping (finally those different scales from Chapter 1 become important!), movement, weather, environmental hazards (including high altitude and slippery ice...nice!), foraging, and random settlements...the latter of which is actually pretty cool and the most useful set of random tables in the whole book. This is followed by information on how to map a settlement, urban encounters, and law and order...a short, pointed, and useful section. After this is Underwater and Sky environments (both good and more streamlined than their AD&D counterparts), before (strangely) ending the chapter with Traps which, despite its strange placement, is good section, short with specific rules, and a tidy selection of sample traps (and no random table in sight? Was this part written by a different author?). This chapter (minus the beginning) plus the Elements of a Great Adventure and Creating Challenges (minus the "character objectives") sections from Chapter 3 could have been combined to create a real, useful tutorial in D&D adventure creation for 5th Edition.

Finally, we have Chapter 6: Between Adventures, which has a great compilation of downtime activities with real rules and no random "filler" tables. I'd skip the part about story arcs and such, but adventure seeding isn't bad and the campaign tracking section is much more in line with Gygax's notions of time...again, was this written by a different person than the one who gave us the sample calendar in Chapter 1? A list of maintenance/upkeep costs (including hirelings), simple stronghold construction and magic item crafting, plus rules for running businesses and finding buyers of magic items (not as easy as prior editions) are all great, simple systems, nicely compiled. The carousing table is a good one, though I'm not sure why higher level characters are more likely to be better gamblers...I'd probably make the last entry the "Makes an Enemy" option, instead. From my point of view, this was the most interesting and useful chapter through the first two sections.

Okay...I'll write my comparison with the original DMG's take on adventure creation in my next post.

Fear and Rage

I read the other day that John Cusack has been training in kickboxing for more than 20 years and is a 6th degree black belt. That's just...weird. I mean, Cusack is not a guy I think of as being a lethal weapon with "feet of fury." On the other hand, I've known several individuals over the year who were master martial artists (people who'd not only been practicing, but teaching others for decades) who were very unimposing figures. Bank clerks and social workers and bookkeepers. People I met from our day jobs (many MA instructors do other stuff to make ends meet). Certainly none of them were aggressive, prone to violence, or giving off a vibe of being "dangerous" in any way. Nor were they Yoda-like, masters of zazen calm and enlightenment...they could still exhibit plenty of stress, were capable of incompetence and insecurity, and in need of mentoring (at least two of these folks were under my supervision, at different gigs).

Thinking about kicking your ass.

If I myself had kept up with my martial arts (tae kwon do and hwa rang do) I'd be going on...(calculating)...27 years of practice. There was a time when I was training three hours a day, five days a week, and cross-training on the weekends. Then I met my wife and decided I had better things to do with my free time.

[she often complains to me (these days) that she lost the "skinny man" she met so many years ago (seventeen), but she's never suggested I get back into it. She prefers me to be at home...just wishes I'd do some sit-ups or something...]

Anyway, even so, I was never a "dangerous man." At least, not what I think of as "dangerous." I could do some neat things, and would certainly hold up better in a fight than people who have never trained in any sort of fighting (this I know from some MINOR experiences). I used to enjoy competition, even. But enjoying a sport, even a "fighting" sport, doesn't make someone dangerous in my book.

Dangerous people are guys (and gals) who are spoiling for a fight. Individuals who are looking to mix it up. For a dangerous person, it's not about competition, or displaying prowess, and it certainly isn't about exercise. It's about wanting to hurt someone, pure and simple.

Fortunately for everyone, there aren't a whole lot of people that fit that description. I'd imagine that even among professional fighters there are those who aren't especially "dangerous" outside the ring. Outside of psychopaths who lack empathy for their fellow humans (these tend to be the people who become murderers), most of us are fairly conditioned NOT to hurt others. And it starts from a young age...I am constantly telling my child not to punch, not to hit, not to push others (especially his sister), explaining how it's not nice to hurt, it's not good to hurt people. And he's fairly good about it (except when he gets excited and punches papa in the crotch)...on the playground he's been very good about not retaliating after altercations, and he's helpful to other children who get knocked down.

I was taught in the same way by my parents. Having a younger brother who enjoyed tormenting me, I would take great pains to beat the hell out of him, and would often suffer the consequences. It was a mantra that I learned (eventually)...that you just don't hurt folks. It's ingrained in my psyche. And I imagine it is for most folks these days. I've heard that the military has to do a lot of re-conditioning to get soldiers trained up to fight, because so much of their lives they've been taught (by parents, schools) that hurting people is a bad thing. Without this training, it's hard to get people to fight to kill.

For those of us who aren't psychopaths and who haven't received the conditioning to kill, there's only two things I can think of that can get folks to enter mortal combat; things that can drive a normal, empathetic person to attempt the slaying of a sentient being: fear and rage. People can be driven to extreme actions by these emotions, even the act of taking another person's life. Fear doesn't have to be for one's own self-preservation...it can be for the lives of one's family or loved ones, as well. And rage, likewise, need not be a personal affront (though it usually is, at least in the mind of the enraged)...it only need be directed, to enable a person to attack to kill.

I've been reading up on the lives of famous Native Americans this morning: Crazy Horse, Chief Joseph (of the Nez Perce), Cochise, Geronimo. For the most part, their fame comes from their fights against soldiers and settlers who were bent on creating a new type of American continent. For the most part, their wars against the "new Americans" were fueled by rage, rage at atrocities committed against their peoples and families. And there was probably fear there as well. Their rage, which led to the killing of many people in raids of murder, is the kind that most people can understand. If you come home one day and find your wife, three children, and mother slain (as happened to Geronimo), wouldn't you be angry enough to go kill some people?

Like The Punisher

[I'm not saying killing is justified or "right," by the way; I'm just saying I can understand the sentiment and emotional reaction. And in such an emotional frame of mind, it would be hard to look at any option with anything resembling rational, detached judgment]

Now consider your average adventuring party in D&D, and just what the hell they're doing.

What is it that drives a group of adventurers into mortal combat, time and again, most often with thinking, feeling sentient beings. A dragon may not be humanoid, but it's certainly sapient...it has thoughts, can be spoken to, bargained with. It probably has stern objections to being hunted like an elk. "I am not a piñata to be beaten until gold coins fall out!" I'm sure this sentiment could be shared by other sentient creatures of the Underdark: goblins, Drow, giants, troglodytes, aboleths, yuan-ti, etc.

Sure, fighters have probably have the discipline and conditioning to kill in the most expedient fashion possible...they are, after all, "veterans" from level 1. And I suppose that at least some of the player characters (certainly the ones of "evil" alignment) fall in the category of unfeeling psychopath: individuals willing to slay whomever stands in their way of a fat payday. But what about the others? What drives adventurers into mortal combat? What drives them to kill?

Is it fear? They weren't expecting to run into any opposition and now that they have they are forced to defend themselves so they aren't killed? Is it rage? They're invading this dungeon environment with the objective of getting some payback for all the hurt its denizens have visited on their kinfolk?

I am suddenly reminded of a scene from the first Indiana Jones film, Raiders of the Lost Ark. Indy is getting ready to go off on another adventure, and as he packs his weapons (a whip and a handgun) he remarks to his amigo, "You know what a cautious guy I am." Indy is not looking for trouble, but he's grown to expect the unexpected incident of danger, and he's prepared for it. I suppose D&D adventurers might be prepared (with their weapons and armor) in the same fashion.

Except that I don't recall Indy ever initiating a fight. When he gets the drop on the Nazis in Marion's bar, he covers them with a pistol and asks them to let her go. When he does use his gun, it's in self-defense (after the bad guys have started shooting at him). For the most part, D&D characters ain't like that. "We attack!" is usually the first words that come out of their mouths upon happening upon a group of bugbears, preferably bushwhacking 'em (with surprise). When you get right down to it, it's the PCs who are doing the trespassing/home invasion...it's the monsters who should be filled with rage and fear and justified in defending themselves.

[not that any sane person wouldn't fear a brain-eating mind flayer, and strike to kill it as quickly and viciously as possible...I sure would!]

Maybe, it really comes down to that terrible human trait of dehumanizing the "other" with whom we have conflict. They are not like us, they are different, they are wrong. Killing them is okay, because they don't think and feel and act like us (even though they are thinking, tool-using creatures and therefore must at least have some capability for reasoning). The slaughter of such "others" is justified in the way they don't represent the lawful, civilized society from which the adventurers hail...the typical imperialistic perspective we've seen historically. But does a half-orc feel the same way about orcs encountered that the other party members do? They might be distant relations!

Stone Cold Killer

Anyway, I'm not musing over all this to be contrarian. I'm just trying to get away from the video game-y mentality for a moment. Combat (in games) is fun, it is an exciting part of the game experience and, well, there are fighters, after all...certainly they (fighters) would have no hesitance over spilling blood, and would feel no need to justify their actions. But should all characters be as callous about killing as fighters? Or (and here's the real question): does allowing ALL characters to be unfeeling, death-dealing machines detract from the immersion of the gaming experience? Would players be more engaged in a game world where such issues weren't hand-waved?

I'm just thinking about it, that's all. My base inclination these days is to treat Chaotic-type creatures as "profoundly evil" (like a plague that needs to be stamped out). But then, my games don't feature monster races (like half-orcs or "tieflings" or whatever) as player character races. If they did, I'd think there'd need to be some serious questions asked about the nature of evil and murder.

More Evil

I've blogged about evil before. But Alexis had a good post yesterday that gives an excellent description of the difference between what he calls "Disney evil" and "ordinary evil" (the latter being the type of evil you find with disappointing frequency in our own, real world), and the benefit of injecting a bit of the latter into your gaming. It's part of his ongoing series on introducing adventures and motivating players, and its well worth a read.

Just FYI: the new heartbreaker I'm working on features evil of a "fantasy evil," which is somewhere in between, though closer perhaps to "Disney evil." Its atrocities are things like turning people into monsters and undermining civilization and making the world into a playground for the forces of Darkness. It's non-ordinary stuff, for sure.
; )

Cacodemon

What do you think of, what image comes to mind, when you hear the word "wizard?"

Is there some iconic character of the silver screen pops into your head? A classic illustration of some sort? Merlin? Gandalf? A video game persona you've been running on your favorite MMORPG? A medieval woodcut?

I wouldn’t be surprised to find that more than a few of my readers have their images of the “magic user” informed by RPG art, especially that of Dungeons & Dragons. Depending on how young you were when you were introduced to the concept of D&D, it’s quite possible that much of your mental pictures of “fantasy” were informed by D&D…or informed by art inspired by D&D.

My iconic wizard.

My own mental image goes back to something different, though. I usually picture the wizard off the cover of the Time Life Book, Wizards and Witches, which was one of my favorites as a child…despite not owning it.

[I don’t know if Time Life Books still publishes these types of series books. They used to be advertised in TV infomercials all the time…volumes on the Old West or WW2, for example. I knew a couple people who collected the “fantasy” series growing up and had a chance to peruse these books…later on, I was fortunate enough to pick up Wizards and Witches, the first volume of the series, in a used book store]

Wizards and Witches provides a lot of good, fun information on the magic users of folklore and mythology, collecting a number of stories from different cultures, not to mention containing many beautiful illustrations. Published circa 1983, this was the first place I discovered Baba Yaga and Vainamoinen and Faust, despite being a (young) veteran of D&D. But then, I was always drawn towards fairy tales as a child (even before D&D) and stories of knights and dragons and wizards and unicorns, etc. would get me amped up faster than a two-liter bottle of Coke. It’s probably why I read so much as a child…back then, books were the main place (or only place) to find such stories, which I devoured when I could get my hands on ‘em.

Anyway, wizards (as depicted in W&W) were pretty much always shown as older gentlemen with long beards and fantastic headgear…miracle workers, with a penchant for flamboyant garb, if an otherwise, respectable and learned “elder” air about them. And I daresay that one will find a similar theme running through the illustrations of the older D&D editions. Whether you’re talking Easley’s painting of “Ringlerun” on the re-vamped PHB (my go-to book for many years) or the Otus drawing on the cover of the Cook Expert set, the robe-and-beard chic instantly identifies an image as a person of sorcery.

Who are these geezers?

THIS is Dungeons & Dragons.

Take a look at the original cover of the AD&D PHB…beautiful and iconic and probably the best depiction of “what D&D is all about” just in terms of the action portrayed. Yes, we have a number of adventurers depicted doing “adventurous stuff.” Can you spot the wizard in the illo? My guess is you’d be drawn to this geezer here:

Withered much?

Now tell me: exactly what retirement home did the party knock over to get this guy on the team?

In my D&D games, I can’t ever recall seeing an “old” wizard. After all, nothing in the rules requires you to create a character that is anything other than a young adventurer in the prime of life…and considering the fact that most campaigns will see you starting at a low level (i.e. “with little magical knowledge”), who would want to play an old coot that’s still “learning the ropes?”

Even if you use the aging tables in the 1^st edition AD&D DMG (we always did, back in the day), a first level magic-user has a maximum starting age of 40, and an average age of 30 or so. The guys on the cover of the PHB seem to about the right age for a group of adventures (20s and 30s that is)…except for the geezer with the staff and the long beard. How is that representative of D&D?

Answer: it’s not. But it IS representative of the iconic figure of the “old, bearded wizard.”

But those iconic wizards with the bent back and long beard are also miracle workers, full of might and power...or at least well versed in magical knowledge. If anything, the rules of D&D allow you to create a young magician and tell the story of how exactly he got to the old age, long beard, and powerful wisdom so often depicted in images and folklore.

Except to do so would make the other heroes likewise old and decrepit. Heroic adventurers (other than wizards) are supposed to be hale and hearty individuals in the prime of their lives…and unless there’s some sort of carry-over from campaign-to-campaign (with old, high-level wizards being “grandfathered in,” no pun intended) you’re never going to see that stereotypical geezer hanging with the young Turks. Well, maybe after an unfortunate run-in with a ghost.

But, okay, let’s forget the whole “geezer deficit” thing for a moment. Let’s ask WHY the archetype is typically portrayed in this way?

My guess (or theory or whatever) is that it has something to do with these individuals being wise and learned individuals. Knowledge and lore is, for the most part, only acquired with time and experience and wizards, having excessive amounts of knowledge (compared to the average person) must have been around for a long time.

[yes, there are some pretty young thang sorceresses to be found in folklore, but the really powerful witches – like Baba Yaga – tend to be portrayed as ancient crones, and more than a few of those female mages are said to augment their appearance with their magic. The main vanity of the male wizard appears to be the length and flow-yness of his beard]

I mean, I suppose they could all be half-demons aging backwards like Merlin or Benjamin Button…but then wouldn’t the stories be littered with child-size archmagi?

No, I think that wizards are supposed to be old and stooped due to the time it takes them to acquire and learn the magical knowledge that sets them apart from their fellows. In a pseudo-medieval world (like your typical D&D campaign) there’s no internet and a near total lack of libraries and “centers for higher education.” Knowledge…especially occult knowledge…is scarce and hard to come by. There’s a reason why your average villager isn’t learning a handful of crop-growing spells. It’s not that there’s a limit on magical talent in the fantasy world…it’s that there’s a dearth of learning opportunity.

And trying to get that learning is going to COST you, too. Being a scarce resource allows wizards to charge a pretty penny for their knowledge…and keeping that price high means keeping a lid on the supply. If the village does happen to have a hedge wizard or wise woman, they’re unlikely to want to train any new apprentices…at least not until they’re ready to retire as the local potion-maker of the region. Any type of “wizard school” is likely to only enroll the wealthiest of students…and knowledge will probably only be doled out by the spoonful, as the majority of an apprentice’s time will be spent doing chores around the tower or recopying ancient, decaying tomes…not to mention working in the gardens, cooking meals, satisfying the wizard’s more carnal desires, etc. Basically paying an exorbitant amount of gold for the privilege of being a slave; all for the promise of learning magic. Only the most intelligent of nobleman’s children are going to learn much of anything anyway…and only after a long time (and probably only after taking the initiative to do their own extra studies in snatched, spare moments).

Is it any wonder when sorcerers turn to supernatural means of acquiring knowledge? Including diabolic sources?

The idea of learning magic from Satan or his minions isn’t a new one, of course. Even outside of fiction, the Christian prohibition on working magic is in part based on the premise that its knowledge is procured from hellish sources (the other part of the prohibition comes from the separation from God that occurs when one attempts to acquire powers that should only be available to our Divine Creator). The word occult simply means “hidden,” and there’s a school of thought that such knowledge is hidden with good reason. The Faust story, retold often over the last several centuries, is the prototypical illustration of this.

Faust is an aged, learned guy who, being jaded and getting on in years, decides to make a pact with Satan to live out his last years with all the decadence that magic and hell can provide. Of course, this costs him his eternal soul…but then, that’s why it’s a morality tale. You learn Faust got the short end of the stick and you shouldn’t make his mistake (even in the Goethe version, BTW…Faust is only saved because of his actual repentance, and the kind of divine intervention no one should expect).

But D&D is a game, not a morality tale. I don’t kill people and take their gold in real life…my normal approach to “conflict resolution” usually involves establishing a dialogue and using a little empathy. Part of the fun of a fantasy game is gleeful immersion in the role of a “scurrilous rogue;” why wouldn’t you make a Fasutian bargain if it was available?

Assuming your character isn’t some do-goody paladin-type, of course.

Now, personally, I don’t think the concept of demon summoning goes very well with the Vancian magic of D&D. The pseudo-scifi-weirdness of Vance’s Dying Earth is…well, it’s a different animal compared to the spell working and conjuration found in many folklore tales. A character in Vance’s DE imprints a spell in his brain through memorization (duh) and “fires” the incantation like a chambered bullet, taking immediate effect. There’s no gathering of ingredients, no waiting for the right stars, no chanting and dancing and ritual…all things associated with magic in tales and literature (the only “instant” spells being…usually…associated with magic items, which themselves may have taken time to prepare)…unlike D&D’s Vancian magic.

Or rather, “unlike D&D’s Vancian magic as originally conceived.” Since the advent of AD&D, magic has become a bit of a hybrid, combining folklore with Vance. Spells have “casting times” often exceeding the “instant” time frame. Spells require “material components,” some of which require elaborate preparation. Whether this was done to make Gary’s world more “mythic” in feeling, or simply a matter of “game balance”…who knows? To me, the answer doesn’t really matter, because the starting point (i.e. Vance; see OD&D) doesn’t work for me. It’s a faulty foundation from which to derive the system of magic most folks now take for “D&D magic.”

Yeah, that’s the heart of the matter, and the crux of this post. I don’t play wizards in D&D, don’t much like wizards in D&D, because they don’t meet my expectations of what a wizard is or should be. How’s that grab you? I don’t want to play a 30-something dude with a sleep spell and maybe a charm spell imprinted on my brain…that doesn’t meet my world view when it comes to spell-casters. What I want are old geezers who can truck with demons and spirits and produce supernatural effects because of the occult lore they’ve accumulated over decades.

Is that too much to ask?

I mean is it? Does that wreck the “game balance?”

Let me tell y’all a story. There’s this little spell in 1^st edition PHB called cacodemon…not sure how many of you are familiar with it. It’s a 7^th level spell; its first appearance (maybe only appearance) in any edition of D&D is in 1E AD&D. It allows the magic-user to summon a single demon of the more powerful type (IV, V, or VI) and bargain with it for service…or condemn it to an otherworldly prison.

You may not be familiar with this spell…I wasn’t (even after many years of playing AD&D) until I saw it used in a game my younger brother was running for two friends. They were about age 12 or so at the time, and it was a fairly typical Monty Haul type game with high level pregens…the kind of game you run when you’re a young DM and have just gotten your hands on your older siblings supercool AD&D books. My brother’s buddy Mike was playing an evil mage (a typical character for this particular player), and when they got into a combat with some monster or other, Mike announced he wanted to summon a demon using cacodemon.

Unfortunately, the casting time is six hours so my brother (in typical young DM fashion) ruled the PC would be out of action for the duration while completing the summoning…presumably off in some corner of the dungeon. The combat proceeded with the other buddy (Brandon) in equally ridiculous fashion, and they all had a few laughs and a pretty good time. I had only been brought in for “consultation,” but having never seen the cacodemon spell in action, couldn’t really provide any great insights.

That was almost 25 years ago. It was the one and only time I’ve seen someone attempt to use the spell.

I like the idea of cacodemon, but I can’t for the life of me see any real application for it in the AD&D game. I guess it could be used like a suped-up invisible stalker, but there sure is a lot of work and effort needed considering its effect…including the need to discover a demon’s “true name?” Why go through the trouble, even to “imprison” the creature; you’d probably have an easier time simply killing the monster if you really had a bone to pick with it!

The presence of cacodemon…and spiritwrack, for that matter…is just odd to me. As I said, I like the idea of it (because, you know, Faust) but it’s a 7^th level spell, requiring a 14^th level character to cast it. And most 14^th level characters don’t have much use for a 7+7 or 8+8 hit dice servant…especially one so resentful and dangerous and so limited in scope of duration. The time to summon such creatures should be when a character is of a lesser level…when the wizard is inexperienced and naïve, and believes the reward outweighs the risk. Not when the wizard can toss around disintegrate spells and14 hit die lightning bolts! I can only assume this is Gygax’s homage to Faust and other demon summoning in literature, and that it was given as a 7^th level spell for purposes of “game balance.” Or maybe it was simply provided as a justification for high level opponent wizards to have demonic servants?

I really don’t know…what I do know is that in 25 years of play, I’ve never seen it used. In fact, I briefly considered trying to beg my way back into Alexis’s on-line campaign with  sole objective of playing a mage and trying the cacodemon spell (how many hit points would a Type IV demon have in his campaign using its size/mass?)…but upon realizing it would probably take 10+ years to achieve the required level, decided the “experiment” wouldn't be worth the amount of effort involved.

Such is the case with a lot of the “high level content” of D&D. You pick up the book and say, “hey, my character can control weather or teleport once I hit X level.” But the chance of hitting that level (and opening that content) is so remote given the normal parameters of table-top play, that you might as well save yourself the despair and skip the spell descriptions of any spell over the 4^th magnitude.

Frustrating. Give me my old geezer who can at least do a neat thing or two. I’m willing to be aged and beardy if it means I can part the sea and call rocks down from the mountains. Hell, I don’t want to play a “young apprentice;” I want to play a wizened loremaster. Forget game balance for a moment…game balance is only a “problem” due to magnitude of spell being linked to ass kickery and putting wizards in the role of “fantasy artillery.” The whole damn class needs a paradigm shift, in my opinion. Which means, from a design perspective, starting from scratch once again.

Consider the desired end result:

-        Magicians should have enough knowledge to be (magically) effective throughout a game session.

-        Magicians should be old geezers and crones by default…unless you want to play someone young and not very knowledgeable/proficient.

-        Magicians shouldn’t over-shadow the other characters. Magic cannot solve every problem.

-        Magic has limitations and/or hazards; there are reasons for not using magic all the time.

-        Magic is not Vancian.

-        Magic is not confined to individuals who possess a special “magic gene.”

-        Magic is not artillery…or only in very limited circumstances.

-        Magic use requires secret knowledge.

-        Magic use requires belief and conviction.

I’ll be building from there. More on all this later.

"Come forth, Mephisto!"