ASC Review: Interdimensional Tunnels of the Sluggobs

Interdimensional Tunnels of the Sluggobs (Chomy)

S&W (OD&D) adventure for PCs of levels 4th-5th

I am reviewing these in the order they were submitted. For my review criteria, please check out this post. All reviews will (probably) contain *SPOILERS*; you have been warned! Because these are short (two page) adventures, it is my intention to keep the reviews brief.

The problem I have with S&W (which is to say OD&D) is that because the thing is so "under-baked" it is wide open to tinkering and weirdness, making it difficult to judge as its own entity. While I'm certain that its proponents would call this a "feature" of the system (yay! we're just having fun!) this CAN cause issues for players in that you never know what to expect (i.e. "system mastery" is fairly difficult).

And for the judge of an adventure contest it's...not fun. Because then you end up going by "feel" a lot, which is a pretty subjective way to measure things and not especially fair. Fairness in contests matter.

Chomy is used to creating "real" adventures, and for my money, this one is too big for an "adventure site," but at 24 encounter areas it just fits into Ben Gibson's parameters of "8-24 keyed locations." Chomy's clever like that. Yes, he creates his "sluggob" monster (a mutant slug-goblin creature with acid spit), but he puts the stat block in the text...same with his version of a "half-ogre"...and I can't ding him for that, as it's still "par" for an OD&D monster write-up. I assume the annis comes from some S&W supplement as it's a slightly different (i.e. "S&W adjusted") from its appearance in the MM2; hard to know for certain.

Wild and wooly D&D, this is.

Treasure is...fine. For an seven person party of 4th level PCs in an adventure this size, I'd expect something close to 45K, and Chomy comes in at just over 41K and change. Magic items are all, mercifully, normal. 

Good theme, good concept, tight design. Despite the inter-dimensional weirdness, this IS "just an adventure site," albeit a large one with lots of things going on. It is also solid D&D (****). It may not be my cup of tea, but Chomy knows what he's doing.  Kudos for the wide variety of (sensible) encounters that can be handled in a variety of ways, and for the clear and well-labeled map.

ASC Review: Save Vs. Sarnoth

Save Vs. Sarnoth (Riley)

S&W (OD&D) adventure for four to six PCs of levels 4th-5th

I am reviewing these in the order they were submitted. For my review criteria, please check out this post. All reviews will (probably) contain *SPOILERS*; you have been warned! Because these are short (two page) adventures, it is my intention to keep the reviews brief.

We start the contest with a submission from Riley, author of last year’s excellent Tower of the Necromancer. Unfortunately, few of you will have heard of Tower of the Necromancer despite it being 4-star (“solid”) D&D because it did not make the final cut of the ASCII adventure compilation. Of this I can only say that my values and priorities with regard to adventure design often differ from my fellow judges.

This year’s offering from Riley is not as good, in my estimation. An S&W (read: OD&D) adventure, the size is right, and the treasure count accurate…if perhaps a tad on the high side (not by much!). But the danger level seems woefully slim and the actual amount of “stuff” in this adventure…a colloquial term I use to indicate “interactive situations and environmental factors”…feels thin indeed. A handful of feral centaurs, readily encountered as wandering monsters (50% chance each turn!), and a single gorgon makes this not much more than an elaborate “lair,” though I wouldn’t go so far as to downgrade it…the thing is a true “adventure site,” with SOME weirdness and non-combat encounters to provide a change of pace.

Still: 17 keyed encounters of which only three are overtly hostile, and the two “traps” that appear being in the same location as two of the hostile monsters makes for a site that’s pretty empty of challenge and danger.

Totally dig that several of the playtest characters show up as statues in the gorgon’s lair…this is the kind of touch I like to add to my own adventures. The elaborate spine-forged sword, while passably interesting, is pretty extraneous.

This is playable D&D: *** with a (-) sign added due to the lack of challenge. Yes, a gorgon is tough, but there’s more treasure to be had in the rest of the site (treasure that's far easier to obtain) without ever setting foot in its grotto. Would also like to know what the hell is the relationship between the centaur, dryads, nixies, and gorgon.

Why "Light Games" Suck

Oh, look! An actual post from JB that isn't just dredging Reddit for click bait...

I'm sure I've tangentially referred to this subject in the past, and my apologies if there's already some long-winded post floating around my archives somewhere...I've been writing this blog for a bit now, and it's hard to keep track of all my various rants. However, James M's blog re-post post today hipped me to something that I've been reminded of before but never (so far as I can recall) in a moment of my free time when I had a laptop close at hand.

So you get this today.

These days the "OSR" is well-known for its plethora of "light" (as in "rules light" or even "rules lite") role-playing games. O So Many of them. From the retro-clones based on primordial (OD&D) or introductory (Basic D&D) game systems, to even cheaper, lighter knock-offs of those games. You know who I'm talking about: the Cairns, the Knaves, the ShadowDarks, etc. Everything to make the rules LIGHTER and EASIER so that it doesn't shackle the imagination, right? Just trying to increase accessibility, yeah?

And, of course, this sentiment...a sentiment of making games EASIER, LIGHTER, MORE ACCESSIBLE isn't limited to JUST the OSR. Despite the 700-800 pages of instruction found in 5E's "core" game books, there are precious little hard and fast rules. How difficult is it to understand a target number? How complicated is it to grasp "advantage/disadvantage?"  5E is, in many ways, fairly similar to other "light" versions of D&D...it just provides MORE OPTIONS. More character classes. More spells. More magic items and monsters. But ease of instructional game play? Check, check, checkity, check.

[not that 5E is "easy enough" for a lot of its players/DMs (as evidenced by Reddit posts). *ahem*]

Heck, I'd argue that this predominance of "ease" isn't even restricted to D&D and D&D-adjacent games. The days of GURPS and MektonZeta and Vampire: the Masquerade and Deadlands are a waaaays behind us. Every RPG I pick up and look at these days seems built around A) a really simple system, wrapped around with B) a bunch of options with regard to color and flavor. Which might be why I haven't purchased any new RPGs in a while. 

When was the last installment of Champions/HERO System? Are they out of business yet? Or have they issued a version of "HERO Lite?" Kids these days, you know? They can't even be bothered to READ, let alone do math.

[man O man, the state of this country]

But let's not dwell on those "other guys." I want to keep my focus squarely on the so-called "Old School" community. Because the "Old School" community is bigger than it ever was...and is YOUNGER than it ever was, filled with people born long after the original "hay day" of the D&D game. And there is a major disconnect with their understanding of what "Old School Gaming" is all about, specifically with regard to the "heaviness" (or "crunchy-ness") of rule systems.

I want to explain that.

And, in addition, I want to APOLOGIZE for that disconnect, because it was ME (and people like me...bloggers from the early 2000s) who did a poor job of explaining stuff to people, back when we were championing systems like "B/X" (basic) D&D. This post (despite the catchy, click-bait title) is meant to rectify something that should have been rectified a long, long time ago...

See, Back In The Day (that's the 1980s for me but, presumably, the late 70s also) Dungeons & Dragons was a game for NERDS. Not just any kind of nerd, but a particular brand of intelligent, imaginative nerds that were into things like fantasy and science fiction and mythology, MOST OF WHICH was found in BOOKS (which, being nerds, we tended to read a lot of). Most of us being somewhat challenged athletically, too (being bookworms), we still wanted to have FUN and so playing games substituted for the types of group activity that might otherwise be filled up with Rec basketball or Little League in the summer time. At least if we were playing D&D with our friends (especially if we were biking miles to our friends' houses to play) our parents were less likely to yell at us to stop reading trash novels and go outside and get fresh air and sunshine.

SO...Dungeons & Dragons was totally our jam. Here was a game that appealed to our interest in all the fantasy literature we enjoyed reading (quality fantasy film and television being extremely hard to come by, back in those days) AND required a high degree of intelligence to parse and make sense of (as the designers, while erudite, imaginative nerds themselves, had rather stumbled into their profession and had, perhaps, NOT the best technical writing chops for communicating what the D&D experience was all about). 

And O how it gripped our imaginations! How it occupied our all our waking moments! How we discussed it, in and out of school, weekdays and weekends, on Boy Scout retreats, and while sitting on the bench during our soccer games! It was fortunate that the game forced us to stretch our minds, do math, look up words in the dictionary (and terms in the encyclopedia) which made all our homework a snap...because otherwise, we probably would have fallen far behind for the amount of effort we put into school work. I know that would have been the case for me...as it was, I still managed straight As (big nerd over here) with about as little effort as I could manage.

But here's the thing, Youngsters: "light rules" was ZERO part of the appeal of these games. We WANTED our rules "crunchy." The more crunch, the better! 

This is why Dragon Magazine sold so well to members of our community: Dragon offered NEW RULES and new ideas that we could incorporate into our games...making our games heavier, and filled with MORE rules. Articles like the (previously cited) Gamma World article that ADDED to character creation. Or (for D&D) new rules for training, or weapon proficiencies, or building libraries, or specific "thieves tools," or random pick pocketing tables, or urban adventure rules, or animal training rules, or...whatever! Never mind the new "NPC" classes (which tended to become "PC" classes) or the new monsters or the new magic items (which were also incorporated)...I'm talking about whole SYSTEMS. When the Unearthed Arcana was published in 1985 (with the Gygax name on the cover), we adopted the entire thing, sight unseen: social classes, spell books, Comeliness, read illusionist magic, demi-human deities, simplified unarmed combat rules...we took in every single bit of it, stupid or not. 

Rules. Instruction. These provide more than "limits" to game play, more than structure. Rules provide ANSWERS...answers to all those questions that arise during play, questions that lead to arguments and discussions and that (in the end) lead to game play stopping. We did NOT want game play to stop...we wanted it to continue and continue and continue. Having answers from (presumably) neutral third-party authorities (whether in a rule book or a magazine) provided an official "stamp" or reliability, respectability, and authority...something that allowed us to say: "See, there's the answer, in black-and-white. Now let's move on and get back to playing."

Because it's all well and good to say 'The Dungeon Master is the final arbiter of the game.' But what if the Dungeon Master is a 13 or 14 year old peer who doesn't have their shit together in other areas of their life? How do you trust THAT guy (or gal) to do the right thing, to be impartial and fair, to remember the correct rule/system at the right time, every time? How do you expect a hormonal 16 or 17 year old to exercise prudence and good judgment? Are you f'ing kidding me?

RULES. We wanted rules...the more rules the better. No one played BECMI in those days (though it was purchased and mined for ideas), because it was TOO simple, TOO basic. If you told someone you wanted to play a (B/X) dwarf, you'd have been laughed out of the room. "A dwarven what?" we would have asked. 

No, "rules lite" was definitely NOT on the agenda. When we took breaks from D&D (which we did) it was to play other games of similar crunch that we'd have to learn. Sure Marvel Superheroes was fun, but as soon as Advanced Marvel Superheroes was published, we junked all out MSH stuff for the new version (check out the falling rules! And the whole chapter on different inventions and kit-bashing!). We'd play Chaosium's Stormbringer whose chargen system could take half a session by itself (for a character who would be gutted by the end of the session on a critical impalement). We'd spend hours using the Top Secret rules (and the various Dragon Mag article supplements) crafting our own awesome handguns. Point-buy game systems...like James Bond, GURPS, Mekton...could provide hours of mind-numbing entertainment by themselves even before getting to actual game play.

We were young people with strong minds and no internet or smart phones to to distract and dull our brain power. We wanted stimulation and EXERCISE for our think-boxes.

So What Happened? What happened that led to blogs like "B/X Blackrazor" (and many, many others) promoting a style of play that was streamlined and easy and neither advanced, nor "crunchy?" Why O Why, for so long, did people like ME actively disparage more complex games, even as others were trying to either preserve the fire and evolve/develop the complexity?

Eh. I don't have a great answer to that question. It was 2008. I was busy: wife, job, life. I'd just gotten out of 3E...probably the "crunchiest" edition of D&D ever designed; so crunchy that I'd deem it soulless, a mechanical monstrosity, "twisted and evil" (yes, like Darth Vader). Going back to B/X, rediscovering and reexamining it through wiser, adult eyes was a way to reclaim the energy, exuberance, and passion of my youthful self for the D&D game. FOR ME: I needed to go back to the beginning to start over. And the simplicity of the system was about all I could fit into the routine of my adult life and adult responsibilities...and even that faded in significance with the birth of my children in 2011 and 2014. Dungeons & Dragons (of ANY edition) wasn't even on my list of priorities when I was dealing with children that young!

I promoted B/X and the Labyrinth Lord retroclone (which allowed one to play the...at the time...out-of-print B/X), because it was a lovely little game that could be easily customized for a smart person who wanted to do extra work, and would serve the purpose of providing a D&D game experience without the need to teach one's players a bunch of "advanced" rule mechanics. It was certainly more accessible than other editions and...for me, as a Dungeon Master...was far less of a headache than 3E ever had been. And it was still D&D (IMO) unlike, say, 4E. 

But, as I've detailed before (more than once) there is a LIMIT to how far a game designed as a basic, introductory system can take you. And since all the ways needed to transform B/X into a robust, long-lasting game system would (in essence) simply amount to "re-writing AD&D," I eventually decided to cut the middle man and just jump back into The King of Games. 

And what I found is that it's really not any harder to teach players 1E than it was to teach them B/X...as with B/X it's really only a matter of ME (the Dungeon Master) knowing and understanding the game, while having a firm grasp of table dynamics. The latter bit comes from being an experienced game master, and can't really be taught, but the former? Yeah, any nerd can do that, if they're willing to read the instructions manual.

But while I was on my own (personal) role-playing journey, the rest of the "Old School" movement took on a life entirely its own. Chalk that up to the commercialization of the OSR: once some people started making serious money (i.e. more than you need to buy a six-pack or two), there became a vested interest in maintaining the status quo. And the status quo was light, OD&D or Basic-based retro-clones (sorry OSRIC) and derivative Rules Light systems: Mork Borg, Into the Odd, Troika!, etc. Systems that worked fine (perhaps) for a pick-up game, but that ARE ABSOLUTELY NOTHING LIKE THE GAMES PLAYED OR DESIRED 30+ YEARS AGO. There is nothing "old school" about these games...NOTHING. Original D&D...the three Little Brown Books that started the whole "role-playing craze"...are the most streamlined, "light" version of the D&D game system ever published. And, at that time, might have been the most complex tabletop game ever to be sold on the open market, requiring not just itself to be played, but also CHAINMAIL and the OUTDOOR SURVIVAL board game to play (and fill in knowledge gaps). It was neither written, nor designed to be "simple and streamlined" and was almost immediately followed by Supplement I ("Greyhawk") increasing the game complexity radically (introducing multi-class characters, different hit dice and damage dice, weapon vs. AC adjustments, new advancement systems, etc.). And OD&D only continued to evolve (that is gain MORE complexity, MORE rules) from there...all per the desire of both the designers and the people purchasing/playing the game. 

"Old School" does not mean "dumbing down" or "making things simpler." Anyone who thinks this or who promote "rulings over rules" are operating under a misapprehension, a false premise. The true "old school" was all about the rules. More Rules...not less.

NOW, let me say there are plenty of Old Geezers like myself that played D&D back in the 70s and/or 80s who still play today using Rules Light systems...just as there are plenty of Old Geezers that play 5E or Pathfinder or WHATever. Yes, I know there are a NUMBER of experienced, AD&D veterans, who long ago moved on from AD&D and have never looked back, and they have their reasons (good reasons!) for this. And, yes, some of those reasons might include wanting to play a simpler, more streamlined game because the priorities of their life makes a "full 1E game" non-viable. Similar to MY state of mind when I was busy with my new parental duties. I don't fault Old Geezers who know the 1E system from making a different choice for themselves...those guys (and gals) are operating from a place of KNOWLEDGE and UNDERSTANDING.

But the rest of you?

There's a part of me...a big part of me...that wants to yell, YOU'RE WASTING TIME. Not just your own time, but the time of your players (yes, my admonition only applies to Dungeon Masters, as players get very little say in what game is run at the table). You are short-changing yourself of the game you COULD be running, of the experience you could be having, of the world you could be developing, the benefits you could be reaping, if you were bold enough, and patient enough, and diligent enough to put your nose to the proverbial grindstone and step into the shoes of an Advanced DM. 

Yeah, I want to yell that. But the truth is: we all come to the mountain at our own pace. When I was a kid...i.e. back before I turned 35...people gave me all sorts of advice that I failed to follow. Don't wait too long to have kids, for example (I almost did), or invest more money in the stock market, rather than booze and smokes (yeah, right). Heck, even the importance of a "spiritual practice;" it took me a lot of years before I fully appreciated the practical value of church-going in my life. Yes, a lot of us are slow to heed the wisdom of our elders...that "know-it-all teenager" attitude gets carried around for a lot longer than our teen years. Of course, it doesn't help when the elders giving the advice seem hopelessly clueless themselves (man, I had to set-up my parents' VCR for them back in the day...and I was 12 at the time! Jeez!...).

Anyway.

The title of this post promises a reason (or list of reasons) that I've yet to provide. Let's see if I can make this succinct:

1. They confuse minimalism with "elegance." The result is bland, undifferentiated, and tactically shallow. Without a structure to push against (and a system to master), there is no depth of play.
2. They prioritize "flow" over meaningful decision-making. By eliminating friction and meaningful constraints, they eliminate the tension that makes exploration and combat interesting. A meaningful game requires pressure; if everything is smooth, nothing is earned.
3. They forgo substance for style. I don't think I need to say more about ArtPunk.
4. They exist in a culture that fears complexity. The players coming to this game are actively afraid of mechanical systems, leading to design by subtraction...they don't want rules to get in the way of their improv theater. But it is complexity that gives a game its richness and provides a more robust experience. We shouldn't fear complexity; we should fear emptiness dressed up as accessibility.
5. They forget that D&D was always a game first. Instead, these "light games" end up being toolboxes for vibe-heavy improvisation. What D&D originally had...and what these "light" systems often lack...is a world that runs independently of the players.

And just to unpack that last point: AD&D (and the confused, constantly evolving jumble that was OD&D) had an internal logic to it, with rules for running consequential ecosystems. The DM's role is to simulate a dynamic, responsive world that the players are exploring...NOT a variety of scenes and narrative beats adapted to create "dramatic moments" or "emotional catharsis." This living simulation that is the AD&D campaign creates a powerful sense of immersion, consequence, and discovery for the players...not to mention a feeling or real achievement for the progress they make within the game world. That just isn't present in these "lighter" versions of the world's greatest game.

All right. I've said my piece for the day. Happy Tuesday, folks.

ASC Review: The Two Spires

The Two Spires (Louis-Joseph Benoit)

OD&D for three to six PCs of 3rd-4th level

I found this one a bit tricky to parse, and I'm wondering if this is an ESL issue...certainly the author and play-testers all appear to have French names...? Regardless, it took me a couple read-throughs to "get" this one.

For my review criteria, you may check out this post. All reviews will (probably) contain *SPOILERS*; you have been warned! Because these are short (three page) adventures, it is my intention to keep the reviews short.

More OD&D, and more gonzo, but if you're going to do gonzo then OD&D is (perhaps) the right system, given just how rudimentary it is. This one doesn't irritate because it feels like it's built on some fairly developed (or, at least, thoughtful) world building. This is post-apocalyptic (hence the gonzo), but there's a lot of background which explains not just WHY things are, but...most importantly for the players...HOW the elements interact with each other. Players need to have something to react to (that's the game): and this adventure gives the DM the tools for this.

There are "Copper Men," who are a race of telepathic humans (but still humans) with a xenophobic religion and "hand-crossbows" (rudimentary zip-guns) that husband/ride "reptoctohorses" (eight-legged reptilian steeds). Despite the weirdness, they're still just a human faction, and the group encountered in this adventure site is a bunch of pariahs, because they've REJECTED their religion and tried to make friends with other humans and demi-humans.  They are attempting to amass gold to recruit the local orc tribe, a group called the Praise-Song Orcs who are neutral in alignment and hire themselves out as mercenaries. With this extra muscle, they hope to overthrow their zealot religious relatives.

This is all GREAT stuff: yeah, it's weird and (slightly) subverting D&D tropes, but it's still UNDERSTANDABLE. Orcs? Got it. Religious conflict? Yep. Gold for trade, barter, hiring, etc.? Makes perfect sense.  The orcs are their own kind of religious zealot, but it's simply one of balance (explaining their neutral alignment)...very easy-peasy.

These two groups, along with a handful of interesting NPCs (a sage/chieftess of the Coppers, her undead spectral husband, an alchemist/witch and her giant fox companion), have made camp in and around two imposing metal spires rising out of the desert that mark the site of an ancient battleground. A small underground cave complex/crypt completes the area...a perfectly reasonable situation for a band of wasteland marauders...er, "adventurers" to stumble into.

While there are plenty of bargains to be struck, people to interact with, and orcs to kill (should the PCs be "that kind" of party), the real "adventure" is underground in an incredibly tiny "micro-dungeon." While some 15K in treasure is available for the finding, the dangers are either incredibly weak sauce (mummies with 14 hit points? Wraiths with 8 hit points?) or incredibly rough (a seemingly unlimited pit of zombies and skeletons that may or may not be hostile). This is made more confusing by the spectre who has multiple motivations depending on what die roll shows up as a random encounter...? Huh?

This is a nicely themed post-apoc scenario that shows a lot of world building depth and makes me both interested in the setting AND the OD&D system. However, the thing needs a bit of editing and a LOT of tuning of the actual "adventure" section (unless PCs are supposed to get into a bunch of backstabbing mayhem with the orcs and Coppers...in which case, some order of battle stuff is needed). I'd like to give it more, but two stars (maybe 2.5) out of five is all I can reasonably give this one. However, this one shows some really good potential.

**+

ASC Review: The Cleft in the Crag

The Cleft in the Crag (J. Allen/Graveslugg)

OD&D for 4th to 6th level characters

Very impressive effort; this is the kind of adventure that makes me want to play OD&D.

For my review criteria, you may check out this post. All reviews will (probably) contain *SPOILERS*; you have been warned! Because these are short (three page) adventures, it is my intention to keep the reviews short.

There is a reason OD&D has its proponents; Allen shows what can be done with the system without needing to go off the rails. In three pages, the author gives us a two level map of some 30 encounters containing multiple plots and factions in a cohesive whole...and without resorting to a microscopic font (no offense, Grutzi). Truthfully, it's difficult to classify this as an "adventure site," as it's large enough and involved enough to require multiple session delves...the author says as much in the intro/overview. But it would be possible to deal with the simple lizard man threat in a single evening. Maybe.

I have quibbles: it's a pretty beefy adventure. When I see "4th to 6th level characters recommended," my brain immediately translates this to 5th level average. And 5th level characters are likely to have difficulty with this this one, depending on the size of the party (note: no suggested party size is given; that's a knock in my book, BTW). For example, there's an encounter with multiple mummies...a curate (5th) can turn the creatures on a "9" (barely a one in four chance), but if he/she fails the character's not high enough level to have access to cure disease. Rough.  Of course, there's also the wandering gorgon and umber hulk, the 18 HD golems, the den of 40 lizard men, the three giant slugs in a cavern large enough to allow them to maneuver...yeah, some pretty beefy encounters for PCs of mid-range OD&D.

And is it worth the reward? Debatable. As I said, there's enough here to occupy a group's time considerably; when a dungeon hits 30 encounters, I'm generally looking for enough loot to advance the average party one level. This one tops out at barely more than 27K (less than half of what I'd expect) and while there are some VERY nice magical items to find the party is going to have to work VERY hard to get them. Yeah, the juice might be worth the squeeze, but the players (not the characters!) better be grizzled and experienced delvers, or this could turn into a frustrating death trap.

This is a tough one to grade. Danger and difficulty are high. Treasure is low (except for those great magic items). Theming and cohesion of design are quite good. And I love the maps and their interplay. 

For OD&D, I'm going to give this one four stars (out of five)...but just barely. It really shows what one can do with just three LBBs and Supplement I. It walks a tightrope of being almost too big, almost too dangerous, almost too stingy...but it never quite topples. Very good job, J. Allen.

****

Dispel Myth(s)

Just picking up where I left off...

Yesterday I asked a not-so-rhetorical question "have people forgotten how to play D&D?" The pat answer is "Of course not, people all over the world are still playing D&D and enjoying the heck out of it!" The evidence is fairly clear: tons of book sales, tons of convention goers (when pandemics aren't getting in the way), tons of presence on social media platforms, blogs, web forums, etc. The game is again being sold in toy stores and there's all sorts of attached merch and related D&D product.

Clearly the game is enjoying a popularity unseen since the 1980s. Doesn't that indicate people are playing the game? Isn't that popularity coming from the enjoyment folks feel playing the game?

Perhaps. But I'm inclined to think rather differently. 

Regardless (the marketing of D&D is probably a subject for its own post) today I'm writing about folks who are actually playing the game, and specifically to folks who gravitate in the group referred to as "the Old School" or "the OSR" (for short). The OSR is just another marketing term, another badge of identity politics. I know my published works (including blog posts) ties me to the OSR label, too, but I honestly don't identify much with it. I am a gamer...a middle-aged gamer (I'll be 48 this year). I've been playing RPGs with dice since 1981...that's coming up on 40 years. My journey...my love affair...with RPGs started with B/X but it has run the gamut over many, MANY different games though the years.

I'm just a geezer that likes escapist fantasy games. 

And D&D is the one I know best. Not only because it's the one I've played the longest, but because over the last dozen years I've spent a LOT of time and energy "deep diving" the game, researching its workings, its history, its development. Because I love it, and because I find it fascinating, and because it has had such a dramatic impact on our culture...not just "gamer culture" or "geek culture" but world culture. For me, Dungeons & Dragons has importance...in much the same way that a theologian feels about the Bible or a historian feels about classic treatise written by ancient Greek and Latin scholars. It's worth my study.

SO...the OSR. A movement, a market, and (originally) an umbrella term for folks who like to play an older version of D&D. Not an older style, mind you...simply an older version. 

[because "style" is largely a matter of taste...different styles of play have been around since the early days of the hobby...read about or listen to interviews with various TSR luminaries to see what I'm talking about]

As the OSR has moved from an identifier of game preference to an industry, there has been a loss of knowledge about the fundamentals of how to play the game.

And part of the reason for this is this strange and nutty adaption of (and adherence to) a set of stylistic assumptions/guidelines used to define "old school" play. Things like "rulings over rules," "heroic not superheroic," "unbalanced combat," "emphasis on player agency," "high lethality," etc.  These ideas have been taken to heart, cherished, and championed by members of the OSR pretty much since 2008 when Matt Finch published his Quick Primer for Old School Gaming.

I combed Ye Old Blog this morning, but found no mention of the Quick Primer and nothing about Finch, except for an off-hand remark that I'm not a big Swords & Wizardry fan. That doesn't mean I'm unaware of Finch's work: I've both S&W and the Primer downloaded on the hard drive and have read them before. But, especially with regard to the Primer, I think a little context is needed for BOTH of these works.

Finch wrote S&W in 2008 because the OD&D rules were out-of-print at that time. He used Wizards of the Coast's OGL to release the rules so that folks could have and play the game (the original books have since been made available in PDF format). 

The Quick Primer was released alongside S&W in part to explain to "modern" (post-2000 players) the differences between new versions of the game and ORIGINAL (OD&D, 0e, White Box, etc.) Dungeons & Dragons...an edition of the game that was primordial and not yet fully formed.  In this context, as an overview for modern players coming to OD&D needing a radical perspective change, it works fine as a "quick primer" (hence the name). But treating it as a treatise on the subject of "old school play," or as gospel truth, or even as being applicable to other old editions of Dungeons & Dragons (B/X, Holmes, AD&D, etc.) is a catastrophic, erroneous leap to make...let alone foundation on which to build a gaming paradigm.

Let's examine some of the accepted ideas  of "old school" D&D gaming that have sprung from this false understanding and see if we can't destroy their fallacies.

Simple or Few Rules: while older edition versions of D&D do not have nearly the "bloat" found in later editions, calling them "rules light" is hardly appropriate. Setting aside BASIC games (Holmes, B/X, BECMI) which were specifically written as beginning instruction manuals for new players you will find that both OD&D and AD&D did nothing BUT add rules to the game over time: OD&D added five supplements in addition to additional instruction presented in The Strategic Review magazine, nearly all of which were eventually incorporated, and AD&D added manual after manual all the way up to the 2nd edition, which would take the same tack. Even Mentzer's BECMI had an ever-expanding list of instructional texts (not just the Companion-Master-Immortal sets, but the new rules provided in Gazetteers, some of which...non-weapon skills...would later be incorporated into the Rules Cyclopedia). The fact that some people prefer simpler rule sets (like B/X as a standalone game) is NOT endemic of "old school play."

Rulings not Rules: perhaps the worst phrase ever coined in the Old School lexicon. Gygax's instructions to create one's own rules for situations not covered in the textual rules is probably the most misunderstood part of old texts. His admonition "why let us do more of your imagining for you?" was a proscriptive against folks writing to TSR for rules arbitration (in effect, he was saying "Figure it out yourself!"). But just because the rules can't cover EVERYTHING doesn't mean they don't cover SOMEthings...and for many things (like combat) there were existing rules...and more were being added all the time (see above). Finch's statement in this regard was regarding the incompleteness of the OD&D system.

Heroic not Superheroic: another oft-quoted "gem" about how old school PCs are aspiring to be Batman, not Superman. Rubbish. Superheroes are super because they have inherent supernatural powers, and there are PLENTY on display in the D&D game: magic-users, clerics, druids, illusionists, paladins, rangers, monks, and bards all have "super powers" not found in ordinary folks. So do characters with psionics. And if you don't think a high level fighter's ability to cut a swath through 10 or 15 or 20 mooks in a single round isn't "superheroic" (see the rules in both Chainmail and AD&D) than I guess we have very different ideas of the human possibility spectrum. Old school PCs of the mid-high level range are hopping through other dimensions, fighting dragons and demon princes, running kingdoms and commanding armies...this is not "Batman level" stuff. Old school characters are larger than life, much as their inspirations (Conan, etc.) were.

"Forget Game Balance:" and this is why we end up seeing so many published adventures that pit low level PCs against godlike super-beings. Just because encounters aren't "engineered" to allow PCs to win (see 4E, 5E, and 3E's Challenge Rating system) does NOT mean that combats or challenges are "unbalanced." If I throw a dragon in the first chamber of my dungeon meant for 1st and 2nd level characters, that's not "old school;" it's being a crap Dungeon Master! The D&D played using old edition rules is very much about risk assessment and threat management, and about players having the choice of how to approach perils to life and limb. But part of the art of DM'ing is in designing challenges that are difficult without being impossible. And rewards should certainly be commensurate with the challenges being presented, in order to tempt PCs into untenable/difficult situations.

High Lethality: this one, I suppose, is a bit in the mind of the beholder. If you're the type that sees ANY player character death as being "highly lethal" (because you're used to an edition of D&D with "death saves" and "healing surges" and whatnot), then sure...old edition D&D is "highly lethal." But if your definition of "high lethality" equates to "Total Party Kill" (or near-TPK) than, no...old edition D&D does NOT necessarily have a high degree of lethality. Death in D&D is a fail state for the players; it generally indicates 'you screwed up.' It is a possible penalty of poor (or unlucky) play. However, it is easily mitigated by the ample number of ways to bring PCs back from the dead, and by the relative ease with which new characters can be created and advanced. I have found AD&D to be especially forgiving with regard to PC death (due to higher hit points per die, more clerical healing at low levels, and the use of negative hit points as a "buffer")...but even with B/X the game need not be "highly lethal." DMs must still balance encounters based on party's experience and ability.

Emphasis on Player Agency: um...what? If you mean players aren't laboring under a DM practicing illusionism than I don't think that's something very specific to "old school" play. But regarding PCs having a "choice" in what they do in-game (again, not something specific to old editions of D&D!) there are plenty of ways that player agency is restricted and curtailed in old edition D&D: see charm spells, hold spells, paralysis, petrifaction, and (yes) death. Plenty of ways exist to take a player out of play for short (or long) durations. If you're talking about an "open sandbox world" unfettered and unconstrained, I'd counter with a plethora of published old edition adventures featuring "trapped" player characters, including Castle Amber, Hidden Shrine of Tamoachan, Ravenloft, Dungeon of the Slave Lords, the Desert of Desolation series, the premise for Steading of the Hill Giant Chief, etc. 

Referee Impartiality: um...again, is this indicative of "old school" play? I think not. However, while I am a strong proponent of not fudging the dice...ever (and you should be, too!) I have to say that I love my players and I want them to succeed at overcoming challenges (yes, even though I cackle with glee when their characters die). Why? Because for me (as a DM), allowing players to succeed allows their character to advance which in turn allows me to open up new content and newer more cunning challenges and situations. It's a win-win for everyone. Likewise, it's really tough to run a long-term viable campaign if you let ONLY dice dictate what monsters and treasures are encountered by your players...as a DM you must be willing to set the ship's course; the fun is in seeing how the PCs navigate the waters. And reading Gygax's text in the 1E DMG, I think he was pretty much of a similar mind.

Aaaaand...that's about it. Any other long-standing precious beliefs about ostensibly "old school" game play that I need to stomp all over? If you think of some let me know. Otherwise, please feel free to grump about how wrong I am in bashing OSR-approval-stamped credentials of "real D&D play."

Next Post: I hope to start writing a series about actual "fundamentals" of game play (at least for older editions; sorry, 5E...you can suck it). Need to fill this newly created void with some constructive stuff. Stay tuned!

: )

Killing Gods, Part 2

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

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

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

Dead duck

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The first
"monster manual"

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

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

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

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

In a reasonable fashion.

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

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

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

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

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

Halls of the Blood King (levels 3-5)

Palace of Unquiet Repose (levels 3-5)

The God That Crawls (levels 1-2)

Operation Unfathomable (levels 1-?)

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

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

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

Q1: Queen of the Demonweb Pits.

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

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

Beefy monster

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

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

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

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

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

Wow. I FINALLY Get It!

Sorry. This has nothing to do with whimsy, "gods in D&D," or Dragonlance in any way, shape or form. But I just had an amazing...nay, mind blowing epiphany that I wanted to share. 

For those readers who don't follow Grognardia, James has been writing about D&D ability scores lately. Musing about them really. Anyway, todays post was about the weirdness of the OD&D trade-off for prime requisites, a subject I thought I'd long since answered to my own satisfaction based on the instructions given in the Moldvay Basic book. In brief, my conclusion was: ability score adjustments are a means of offsetting low dice rolls in order to play a better version of the character class you've chosen for your PC.

But was it always meant to be that way?

Moldvay's mechanic is a streamlined version of OD&D's system, and in this context (helping out a low roll in one's prime area of expertise) it makes sense. However, Talysman from The Nine & Thirty Kingdoms had an incredibly astute observation. He wrote:

I think Gygax and/or Arneson had two conflicting ideas here: 

(1) Although each class has a prime ability, other abilities should improve performance in a class (smart and strong fighters should advance a little faster than those who are just strong.) This explains the different point ratios and why M-Us can't use Strength to improve earned experience. 

(2) An actual point swap, to reduce the risk of bad rolls. 

The problem is, they should have gone with #1 without #2, or #2 without #1. Trying to hang on to both leads to confusing language about lowering other ability scores, but only "for purposes of earned experience". Are we lowering the scores, or not?

To which I have the answer: they're not.

Gygax has penned a magnificent mechanic in OD&D that has been completely lost in his inability to express it coherently. Here is what he wrote:

Prior to the character selection by players it is necessary for the referee to roll three six-sided dice in order to rate each of the various abilities, and thus aid them in selecting a role. Categories of ability are; Strength, Intelligence, Wisdom, Constitution, Dexterity, and Charisma. Each player notes his appropriate scores...

The first three categories are the prime requisites for each of the three classes...

Strength is the prime requisite for fighters. Clerics can use strength on a 3 for 1 basis in their prime requisite area (wisdom), for purposes of gaining experience only. Strength will also aid in opening traps and so in.

Intelligence is the prime requisite for magical types. Both fighters and Clerics can use it in their prime requisite areas (strength and wisdom respectively) on a 2 for 1 basis. Intelligence will also affect referees' decision as to whether or not certain actions would be taken, and it allows additional languages to be spoken.

Wisdom is the prime requisite for Clerics. It may be used on a 3 for 1 basis by fighters, and on a 2 for 1 basis by Magic-Users, in their respective prime requisite areas. Wisdom rating will act much as does that for intelligence.

[insert table that shows adjustment to earned experience based on prime requisite]

Note: Average scores are 9-12. Units so indicated above may be used to increase prime requisite total insofar as this does not bring that category below average, i.e. below a score of 9.

The problem here, with my previous interpretation, is that I was using my knowledge of Moldvay (the B/X system I learned the game from) to infer the way the mechanic works in OD&D. In B/X a character's ability scores are exchanged...i.e. spent...in order to increase its prime requisite. That's not what Gygax writes. His term is USE.

A cleric may use strength on a 3 for 1 basis...

Both fighters and clerics can use [intelligence]...

[Wisdom] may be used on a 3 for 1 basis by fighters...

Units so indicated may be used to increase...

"Use" does not mean "spent" or "exchanged."

What does that mean? It means that if I have a fighter with a 15 strength and a 13 intelligence, then my prime requisite is treated as 17 for purposes of gaining experience only. I can USE my intelligence on a 2 for 1 basis in my prime requisite area (strength), insofar as this does not bring the category below average, i.e. below a score of 9. 

In other words, I can only USE those points that exceed 9 when calculating my prime requisite, and only on a 2 for 1 basis (if we're talking about a fighter and her intelligence).

Why? Because a strong fighter that is SMART will advance just a bit faster than a fighter that is only strong.

This is the reason for the different rates of "use." Strength cannot be "used" by a magic-user (no exchange given) but by a cleric. Intelligence (smarts) are useful for both clerics and magic-users. Wisdom  is more useful to magic-users than the (bold, courageous, incautious) fighter.

And, yes, this STILL makes sense when you add in the thief class from Greyhawk (Supplement I): the prime requisite of a thief is dexterity. "They may use 2 points of intelligence and 1 point of wisdom to increase their raw dexterity score so long as they do not thereby bring the intelligence and wisdom scores below average." Smarts and caution/insight aid the thief in advancement, not strength. Makes perfect sense.

This is not an expenditure of points to improve an ability score. In answer to Talysman's query: NO, we are NOT "lowering" anything. We are USING points in excess of an average score in CERTAIN abilities (depending on class) to adjust a character's CALCULATED prime requisite to model the advantage of PCs that excel in multiple abilities deemed important for their profession.

Gygax just had a hard time saying that. And later he axed the mechanic from the game and simply said: roll 4D6, put them in order and if you have a 16+ in your prime requisite we'll give you a 10% bonus. Period, end of story.

Very simple. Fine for a game. Less of a model of "reality."

Man, I like OD&D more and more.

***EDIT TO ADD: And as Fr. Dave points out, the side benefit of this is that racial level limits can be increased (using these rules) withOUT the need for an 18 ability score. Your elf or dwarf fighter can make up for a lesser strength score with smarts or wisdom, de-emphasizing the imperative of high (rolled) scores.***

Elves in Red Earth

Still lots and lots to talk (and rant) about these days, and I haven't yet gotten to around to the subject of elves in my Red Earth campaign; I just can't seem to help but get sidetracked.

Let's go ahead and get to it.

The original draft for this post spends the first thousand words quoting all the information found in the OD&D books as a foundation; but I've since decided NOT to go down that road. Here are the basic takeaways of note (with regard to OD&D elves):

• They are never noted as having an exceptionally long life span; there is no mention of longevity at all in any of the books (nor are there special notes regarding elves under the entries for the potion of longevity or the staff of withering as there are in later editions, like B/X).
• With regard to appearance, there are no notes stating elves have pointed ears or that they are beardless (contrariwise, the illustration labeled "ELF" on page 32 shows an individual with a longer beard than the "DWARF" on page 8). Per Greyhawk, elf skin color ranges from "tan to fair" with "wood elves being the darkest." Height is given as "five or more" leaving open the possibility of rather tall individuals.
• The original books state that "elves are of two general sorts, those who make their homes in woodlands and those who seek the remote meadowlands." No distinction is made between these two types. In the Greyhawk description of the elf class, four types of elves are listed: wood, high elves, meadow elves, and fairies...this last being a term found in the Chainmail fantasy supplement where it was used interchangeably with "elf," much as was done with dwarves/gnomes, goblins/kobolds, and pixies/sprites. The 1E Monster Manual will "clarify" this by stating "faerie" is the term for Grey Elves, even as it removes the term "meadow elves" from the game lexicon. Aquatic elves are added (along with a host of other underwater variant monsters) in the Blackmoor supplement.
• Elves are "not naturally adapted to horseback." While they have the split-move-and-fire ability found in Chainmail (and originally used to model the speed of horse-born archers like Huns, Mongols, etc.), it only applies to elves on foot.
• In the wilderness encounter tables, elves are on the GIANT TYPES sub-list (along with dwarves, gnomes, and treants). It would appear that the "giant class" of monsters (i.e. the enemies against whom rangers receive a special damage bonus) was meant to apply to ANY type of nonhuman humanoid. 

It is highly interesting to me that elves, as originally presented in Chainmail, were NEUTRAL in alignment (albeit with "a slight pre-disposition for LAW"). By OD&D, of course, they appear on both the Law and Neutrality lists, but this explains why elven clerics (only available as NPCs) are limited to 6th level of experience...per OD&D no cleric may progress above 6th level unless aligned with either Law or Chaos.

So it is with MY elves: these are not the goody-goodies found in Tolkien, but something far more aloof from humanity. An ancient race, not in terms of longevity, but in terms of culture...these elves have been around for a looong time, and have already passed the apex of their civilization. Not demihumans but protohumans...another species of humanity (like neanderthals or denisovans) destined to one day be extinct or subsumed into what we know as the modern human race.

The main inspiration for my elves are Moorcock's Melnibonean fantasy race (Elric and all his kin). I've written before about the general similarities between the Elric books and D&D, and the specific similarities between Melniboneans and the D&D elf. For my campaign world, I am embracing these parallels, although they are not an island or sea-going people (I already have my Numenorean/Valyrian sea king-types in the descendants of Atlantean refugees...and they are all "normal" humans). Instead, elves are a coastal-mountain folk living in the Chilean region of the Andes...though I admit to being tempted to move them farther north.

Another inspiration for my campaign setting is the artwork of Bob Pepper, and specifically his illustrations for the old Milton-Bradley card game, Dragonmaster. Each of the "suits" found in the game provide visual clues and inspiration for distinct factions of my campaign setting. Considering the Moorcock influence, it should come as no surprise that the DragonLords are the model for my elves, although they are not literally "dragon lords" in the Melnibonean sense.

Still, they are an ancient culture with access to metallurgy and sorcery that is hard to find (or equal) in the young human kingdoms. Though they ceased their wars of conquest centuries before the coming of the Sea Lords to the temperate eastern plains, the elves maintain enough might to remain independent from the ever-expanding Red Empire of the north, and most human communities continue to hold them in superstitious awe.

[the Sea Lords being a notable exception]

For once upon a time, the elves were conquerors, and the early humans of the continent little more than primitive, nomadic tribes and a ready slave population. These slaves would eventually throw off the yoke of servitude, using lessons learned from their decadent masters to forge their own kingdoms in the lowlands (thus was the Red Empire born), but the animosity and dread of their former oppressors remain.

Nor is this their only legacy, for in elder days the elves experimented with dark magics and sorceries best left unknown. The result: fell beasts and twisted monsters, demonic enchantments and dangerous pockets of enchantment that continue to plague and bedevil those who stumble upon them. It is said that dragons were created by elvish magic, but most sages consider the possibility unlikely in the extreme. However, it is a certainty that both the orc and gnoll species were products of the elves' attempts to create pliant slave races that would not rebel as their human servants did. Unfortunately (for everyone), this was a disastrous failure.

In these latter days, the elves are very much a diminished people, but they still retain secrets and powers unknown to the younger human race. It is unlikely that they will ever return to their former splendor, but the occasional elvish adventurer has been known to come down from the mountains, searching for treasure and glory among humans of like mind.

These are the elves of Red Earth. They are otherwise as found in the OD&D books.
: )

Regulating Chaos

*sigh* Down the rabbit hole again...

I've been doing a lot of "work" on movement and encumbrance the last few days. Turns out, I'm just not satisfied with the rules as written.

Which rules, JB? Well, here I'm mainly considering OD&D, AD&D, and B/X. Holmes Basic has the fewest rules on encumbrance and movement, but may actually be closer to accurate.

Why does any of this matter, JB? Okay, it probably doesn't matter especially. Dungeons & Dragons is a game, and playability is as important...if not more so...than accuracy. "Playability" doesn't necessarily mean "easy," but it does have to promote a challenging, engaging experience for the players. We provide challenge so that the game does not become so easy as to become tedious. We provide engagement to spark interest so that players care and bring their "A" game to the table.

I wrote about the importance of encumbrance to the game a couple weeks ago. Encumbrance provides a third dimension to game play. Folks aren't just worried about choice of weapon and armor for how much it costs them (in imaginary gold coins), but about how it impacts their character's movement and ability to carry other gear/treasure. Without encumbrance, "cost" eventually fades (experienced adventurers have plenty of imaginary gold and often acquire magical equipment for "free" anyway), and "choice" is limited to a question of "effectiveness" (i.e. what weapon does the most damage, what armor gives the best protection)...which is too easy a challenge to provide engagement to a mature, seasoned player. Fine for kids, not so much for adults.

[yes, yes story gamers...y'all don't care about "accounting exercises." You play a different version of D&D from what I do. This post isn't for you]

So how do encumbrance rules, when used (they are OPTIONAL in the B/X system, probably because it was scaled for kids), impact the game?

1. The rules restrict what gear can be carried by a player's character by placing a hard limit on carrying capacity. This requires players to make choices as to what is necessary for an adventure, especially as acquiring treasure is the objective, and treasure found will need to be carried as well.
2. The rules restrict movement in two different ways: First,  it restricts the distance that can be covered over time, which creates more opportunity for wandering monsters to appear (wandering monsters being a drain on party resources while providing no great reward...they don't carry treasure!). Second, it reduces the distance one can move in encounter situations, impacting the ability to maneuver and, thus, succeed at tactical objectives (whether that means destroying one's opponents or fleeing to fight another day).

Note: there are some adventures where rule situation #1 doesn't apply: in many time-sensitive missions (say, rescue the hobbit captives from the orcs, deliver the message of the impending invasion, destroy an evil artifact before it falls into the wrong hands, etc.) acquiring treasure isn't a goal. As such, rule impact #2 (limiting movement) must still be important...or even more prominent!...in order to provide the appropriate degree of stress to the challenge.

Here's the thing, though: being encumbered doesn't have nearly the impact on an individual's movement as the rules state.

Let's be perfectly clear. I am, by my own admission, both overweight and not in fantastic shape...not even good shape, really. The rest of my family (especially my skinny, athlete son) is in far better shape...and none of them are carrying the extra belly and jowl fat I am. Even so, I can still outrun, out-hike, and out-bike them. On the soccer field, my kid can do all sorts of fancy moves and has a dead hard shot, but I can still outmaneuver him...and out-quick him...to beat him in one-on-one games (and my victories are even more decisive when we play on a larger field, rather than our front yard). I'm bigger, stronger, and faster, despite being an old fat man with bad knees, a bad ankle, and back pain.

Unencumbered, I can advance in a straight line, weapon(s) in hand(s), and cover 40' of ground in approximately ten seconds. If I do a "controlled charge" (i.e. moving as quickly as I can to engage, while taking care not to trip over my own feet or impale myself on something), I can cover the same ground in half the time (approximately 5 seconds). Having actually worn armor a time or two in the past, I know that it would not affect my ability to walk hardly at all, and would only slightly impact my ability to charge...probably not enough to make a substantial difference, especially in an actual combat situation with adrenaline pumping through my veins.

How do I get these figures? I spent a couple day running simulations with my kids. Yes, folks, all sorts of Covid entertainment at the JB household. My boy, by the way (who's a foot and a half shorter than me), advances and charges at about the same rate, maybe slightly slower due to stride length.

But let's talk encumbrance, shall we? I had the kids fill their backpacks with all sorts of "adventuring equipment" in order to run tests on speed and movement. The original impetus for this was wanting to see how fast one could retrieve a specific item from a filled pack in a chaotic, stressful environment (like combat) because I'm tinkering with the combat turn ("round") structure of my game. However, my kids were "all in" on this experiment and insisted on outfitting themselves in full-on regalia, including armor, weapons, etc. The results were interesting.

[I took pictures, but my spouse does not want me posting photos of the kids on Ye Old Blog. Not that this stops her from putting their pix on Facebook, but whatever...]

Not my children...just
some kids on pinterest.

My boy's "kit" included multiple layers of padding and plastic "armor," a shield, a wooden sword (long sword equivalent), a bow (no quiver), helmet (plastic), and a 20# backpack. My daughter was wearing an ankle length wizard robe (over clothes), pointy wizard hat, along with a 15# backpack (contents included a thick hardcover to represent her "spell book"); in my daughter's hands she carried a (plastic) sword and an actual camp lantern (battery operated). Although the weight was only a small fraction of what a "real" adventurer would carry, the bulk was certainly equivalent. And the weight they were carrying was more than a third their actual body weight...closer to 40% for Sofia. If I had been proportionately geared, I would have been carrying closer to 70#. And, of course, actual mail weighs a lot more than my kids' thin plastic and padding.

However, even burdened as they were, the kids weren't especially slower. What they were was uncomfortable and in pain from shlepping so much weight on thin shoulders. They couldn't wait to shrug off their backpacks...which they were able to do fairly quickly given a "combat situation" (me shouting "go" and starting the stopwatch). Carrying a bunch of weight...especially weight they're unused to and untrained to carry...did NOT slow them substantially. But it DID tire them out...cue my typical rant about the lack of proper fatigue rules in D&D.

That's my takeaway from our "experiments:" Movement is far more affected by bulk and distribution of gear than from actual weight carried or an individual's strength. It's tough to move quickly when you're worried about tipping over from an unbalanced pack. Or (as my daughter told me) "I actually run faster with my backpack because it pushes me forward!"

[this appears to be a literal truth; walking WITH his pack (only), Diego shaved half a second off his time...same when he was running]

But fatigue IS real...despite being faster and stronger than my family members, the old man gets tired. My son can play soccer all day (comparatively), whereas I cash in my chips a lot sooner. Likewise, my wife doesn't run the 5Ks half-marathons she used to, but she can still go twice as many laps around Green Lake (at least!) as yours truly...though to be honest, I was never a fan of distance running. Ever.

SO...how to model this in the D&D game? Well, what does the D&D game model anyway? Depends on which edition you're tweaking. Assuming a 10 second combat round (as in B/X), 40' per round (encounter speed for a 12" movement) seems plenty fair. The OTHER speeds, though (30', 20', 10' for 9", 6", and 3" movement, respectively), seem grossly inaccurate. Even for a fat adventurer.

Where do these movement rates come from? From OD&D originally...although the idea of a 10 second round is from Holmes Basic ("Each turn is ten minutes except during combat where there are ten melee rounds per turn, each round lasting ten seconds."). But as with many of the mechanical bits found in OD&D, these rates are adapted directly from the Chainmail wargame.

Chainmail provides rules for "medieval miniatures." It uses a time scale consisting of 1 minute turns (just like the combat turns of OD&D and the combat rounds of AD&D) and a distance scale of 1" being equal to 10 yards. Different movement rates are given for different troop types in Chainmail; for example, "heavy footmen" can move 9" (12" when charging), while "armored footmen" only move 6" (whether charging or not). All reports of Gygax state that he was a voracious reader that enjoyed researching old history books for information to add to his games (in an age where there was no internet), but games that attempt to regulate the chaos of war require a certain amount of abstraction to ensure playability...it is difficult to know, just from reading Chainmail, what was thought to be an accurate model and what was considered an expedient necessity.

Attempting to find field movement rates for medieval troops using the internet alone has been difficult. Most rates are given only in miles per day which, admittedly, is probably more than most people need for their history lessons (it's enough to know who fought whom and where and how many died). However, what IS clear is that with regard to troop movement (soldiers marching in groups), distance traveled over time comes down to a combination of organization, discipline, and baggage carried, coupled with the terrain traversed. Ancient troops could make 10-25 miles per day with decent (Roman) roads, while medieval foot troops (up through the 17th century) only moved 7-15 miles per day. A troop could be "forced marched" at double that rate, but risked being too fatigued to fight effectively upon reaching their destination.  Medieval soldiers generally marched in their armor and carried at least a hand weapon or two; gear (everything else a soldier might need) was "baggage," carried in carts or hauled by a soldier's wife or girlfriend (camp follower). But none of that tells me how far or fast the soldier could move on the battlefield...and anyway, battlefield movement would have been in formation, with a pace set by the force commander and the necessities of battle.

Gygax's Chainmail movements appear to be an estimation based in part on how one assumes these forces to behave as a troop/group. Light footmen include peasants, noted as being "unreliable" and "unwilling" warriors: they only move 9" (12" charging) despite probably having the lightest loads (in terms of arms and armor)...of course they would be an undisciplined mass to bring to a battle. Armored footmen with their 6" movement includes "dismounted knights;" Chainmail notes that "feudal knights were ill-disciplined and generally refused to take orders from anyone -- even their liege lord;" presumably by the time they were dismounted the battlefield mud would have already been churned up, making the footing even more difficult. Meanwhile, the fearsome Landsknechte troops are given a move of 12" (charge 15") apparently to model their superior discipline and training...this despite many of their troops (certainly the zweihander-armed frontliners) being dressed in plate armor!

Wives have advantages
over other henchmen.

A party of D&D adventurers...even one with a number of retainers and henchfolk...isn't the same as an unwieldy mass of hundreds or thousands of troops. Training and discipline should be assumed to be at least as good as elite mercenaries and house troops...this is, after all, what the PCs are supposed to be. In Chainmail, both heroes and superheroes (the basis for the 4th and 8th level fighters respectively) have movement of 12" (charge 15") regardless of armor worn.  Wizards (of any level), likewise have a move of 12" (though no charge). When mounted, these fantasy fighters have the same movement as medium horseman...again, regardless of armor. To me, it's clear something other than encumbrance is being used in these calculations.

The D&D movement rates are even more strange when used in conjunction with dungeon or "exploration" movement...in ANY edition of the game. There are many subterranean caves and cavern trails available for hiking in the United States, most with surfaces and elevation changes far more difficult and treacherous than the smooth 10' by 10' corridors found in your average D&D adventure. Trail times seem to be pretty universal: individuals can expect to hike about 1.25 miles per hour in such environments. The most difficult "hike" I could find on the internet was the Wild Cave Tour at Mammoth Cave in Kentucky. This physically grueling tour requires hikers to spend a lot of time crawling on their belly, wriggling through tight spaces, traversing sharp, uneven terrain, and dealing with water and subterranean canyons. It is guided by professionals and there are breaks (for rests, instruction, and lunch), but even so it's a six mile tour that requires six hours to complete.

Not a 10' x 10' corridor.

How fast is that in D&D terms? Well, one mile is 5,280 feet, so that would be our hourly "rate" of travel. Assuming the usual five (ten minute) turns of movement followed by one (ten minute) turn of rest, we can see the party making about 1,056 feet per turn; there is, presumably, no "running" during the tour, but no mapping necessary either (since the party has an experienced guide). With normal caution being exercised we can translate that to game movement as follows:

OD&D: 52" (two moves per turn)
AD&D: 21" (rate of travel divided by 5 for "following a known route")
B/X: 106" (158" if movement rate considered 2/3 for being "broken terrain")

Even presuming "unencumbered" movement (hikers aren't carrying any more than a hardhat, flashlight, and sack lunch), these rates far outstrip the 12" movement rate found in the D&D texts. The speed is more than double the rate given by Holmes for an "unarmored, unencumbered man" that is "moving normally" in a dungeon (480' per turn). An adventuring party moving this slowly and this cautiously should probably be discovering every trip wire and loose flagstone in the dungeon!

So, yeah. Movement rates as given are too slow, and carrying a bunch of weight doesn't make you all that slower if all you're doing is walking/marching. What encumbrance does is tire you out (fatigue) making rest more important.

I spent a lot of time yesterday watching videos of Medieval MMA and IMCF combat. Despite the limitations of sport combat, I find these to be instructional especially this M-1 championship bout in Moscow. Three minutes of fighting per round, followed by one minute of rest, and both these dudes are completely gassed after three rounds. And they are, presumably, wearing lighter gear than a true medieval warrior and have all the benefits of modern sport science (including nutrition and cross-training regimes). Turns out that Chainmail's fatigue rules seem a fairly close approximation of how melee (by itself or in combination with movement) can tire you out...even for lightly armored fighters (who would, I assume, need to work twice as hard as their heavier armored counterparts).

Beating on each other just plumb tuckers you.

Yes, yes, I know...everyone hates fatigue rules. And we already have an (imperfect) model of fatigue in the form of hit points. And, in the end, this discussion seems to be aimed in the direction of rebuilding the game from the ground up, which is really NOT what I want to do.

I just want something that won't bug me and be a constant source of irritation.

But let's go back to the premise here: the rules as written provide two different means of challenging/engaging the players of the D&D game: they add an extra consideration to choices made with regard to logistics (carrying these iron spikes and a crossbow are going to cut down on how much loot I can haul), and affect the character's ability to maneuver tactically (not only in combat, but in evasion/pursuit situations). Both become an issue of resource management, the particular resource being time...precious time that will necessitate additional wandering monster checks that carry the possibility of fatal attrition for little/zero reward. Game-wise, these are not rules to chuck with abandon, as they are fairly imperative to running the game in the manner intended!

Still, as mentioned, logistics become far less important when characters have a mission that promises reward after the adventure (return the captives and get paid! Bring me the head of the bugbear chieftain to the Duke for a chest of gold! Etc.)...and even less so as characters rise in level and acquire gear that offsets logistics (the sword +3 that is unbreakable, the flaming sword that takes the place of torches, the slippers of spider climbing that replace 10 pounds of rope, the decanter of endless water, etc.). When logistics fail to matter, only tactical issues need be considered...and time can continue to be a manageable resource with the use of fatigue and mandated rests. More so, it becomes an additional area of player engagement if parties can choose between RISK (pressing their luck, losing effectiveness by acquiring fatigue) in exchange for REWARD (making better time, rolling fewer encounter checks).

Sorry, folks, but this is a line of thought I want to continue following for now. I'll probably have at least one more post on the subject (in which I'll lay down some concrete rules for "testing"), but it's important to me to get this stuff right. NOT because it is so all important to be accurate or "realistic" in modeling this stuff...but because, well, hmm.

Because (I suppose) it's important to not be wrong. I say hit points are an abstract measure of staying power and that's fine and dandy; that's defining a game mechanic (we're not trying to model rules for broken bones and pints of blood in the body). I say 15 gold pieces buy a decently-made sword and that is fine, too...that's the fantasy economy in this particular region at this particular point in time.

But I say a human with a 40# sack of gear only moves a certain distance at a brisk pace, well, then it better be damn close to the laws of reality. Because time and distance and weight on a planet with Earth's gravity is something that can be measured. And because D&D isn't a board game, and it's not a wargame, and we're attempting to simulate an experience, there's SOME reason why carrying heavy stuff is detrimental, but it better be a real reason...and not a "wrong" reason, not just for the sake of adding options. The choices have to be valid, and valid choices do exist...so why not use them?

All right, that's enough. I've been writing this for four days, and it's time to get on to the next thing.