The "Competition"

Today, I purchased a 500+ page guidebook purporting to "provide the key" to unlocking your imagination and teaching you how to be an RPG game master.  Well-stocked on the shelf of my local Barnes & Noble, well reviewed on Amazon, this book is a USA Today bestseller (meaning it's one of the top 150 books by volumes sold considering all media across all outlets) and its author a winner of numerous game-related awards.

I went to the store, deliberately, with the intention of purchasing the book, for the following reasons:

• As someone working on a similar work, I thought it only "due diligence" to check out the competition and see what was deemed to warrant such rave reviews. 
• As someone working on a similar work, I thought it only "common sense" to see if there was anything left for me to ADD with a book of my own, seeing as how this one was designed to take you "right from the beginning of prep to running a successful game" (in the words of one reviewer).
• I needed to do some Christmas shopping at the bookstore anyway.
• I recently received a fat payment and had money burning a hole in my wallet.

So, I picked it up and, after a hearty meatball sandwich lunch, spent the afternoon reading it from cover-to-cover, mainly skimming it (there are a lot of examples and diagrams) but diving into the parts that seemed to present newer info, thoughtful advice, or deep(ish) ideas and "guidance."

Then I drove back to the store and returned it, getting a full refund.

You will notice that I am not naming the author nor the book in question. I have two reasons for this:

1. As a person who has written books before, and who is undertaking a similar gargantuan task of explaining how to DM this game I love, it is clear that the author put a crap-ton of effort into this book...a monumental investment of time and energy. While I may have a negative opinion of the work itself, I'm going to give the author some credit just for birthing this thing. 
2. In general, I don't believe in "bad publicity," and as such I usually don't name things...positive or negative...unless I'm okay with people putting 'em in their shopping cart. That's just a me thing. Yeah, I broke that rule when I wrote about the 2024 DMG, but that was more akin to a public safety announcement...I knew people were going to buy that (regardless) and felt a "warning label" of sorts was necessary.

The bottom line is this: yeah, a book like the one I'm writing is still needed. Maybe I'm not the one to write it, but if THAT thing is considered the pinnacle of "how to DM" books, than the bar has been set extremely low.  Most of the information in it wasn't anything more than what you'd get reading Moldvay's Basic book (a lot of the "adventure design" seemed to be taken directly from Moldvay with slight adjustments and a LOT of extra word count) and the NEW "guidance" was...bad. Just bad from the opening chapters. Always saying yes to players, just as a default...um, no. Explicitly stating that the DM's job is EASIER than the players' job? Um, sure...if you SUCK at being a Dungeon Master.

Do we really need a book to explain dice nomenclature? Isn't that on page one of every edition of every RPG ever? And you state right up front that you're not going to teach the rules, so they need to read the instructions so then what's with the elementary intro crap?

*sigh* That's enough. I could keep piling on but that's not productive. And it wasn't a waste of my time to read through it...it gave me solid ideas of what I should and shouldn't be doing with my own book, AND boosted my spirits that I'm not totally reinventing the wheel. That's a comfort. 

Now back to work.

; )

Learning From The Oldest School

Tony Bath was a British wargamer who founded the Society of Ancients and (in certain circles) is celebrated for his long-running "Hyboria" campaign, based mainly on the setting Robert Howard created for his Conan stories. While Bath died in 2000 (at the age of 74), his writings have been collected and are still published by The History of Wargaming Project (edited by John Curry) under the title Tony Bath's Ancient Wargaming.

Good read.

Bath's writing, especially his 1973 work, Setting Up A Wargames Campaign, is remarkable because despite it being written about wargaming for wargamers, much of it (especially the thought process and philosophy) is directly applicable to Dungeons & Dragons and the burgeoning Dungeon Master seeking to build their own RPG campaign. Conclusions that I've only reached after decades of playing and pondering and reading the blogs/writings of folks much smarter than me, were carefully outlined by Tony Bath years before I ever laid eyes on the Moldvay Basic box.

Of course, it is no secret that D&D was created by wargaming enthusiasts. But when I write that Bath's book is directly applicable to the D&D game, I'm not talking about his rules for conducting tabletop battles, historical or otherwise. While such battles can be a part of one's D&D campaign (see the Gygax novels I mentioned in my last post as examples), the rules of D&D are far more concerned with the small scale actions of individual heroes (i.e. the player characters) then the movements and actions of troops. Instead, it is Bath's procedures and philosophy of creating and running campaigns and world building where one finds golden instruction.

It is only the vocabulary used that needs to be [slightly] altered.

"Almost all new [D&D players] start their careers by fighting a succession of single, unconnected [adventures]; this is inevitable since it takes time to get the feel of the hobby, to learn the rules, etc. But if a new recruit is really going to take up [D&D play], then before very long he begins to feel that something is lacking; that these individual [adventures], though well enough in their way, need some connecting link to make them more satisfying and to give an objective other than just trying to [kill monsters, delve for treasure]. In other words, the desire to [play] campaigns rather than ["adventures"].

"What makes campaigning so rewarding? Why, if you have fairly limited time available for the hobby, should you use time that could be spent in fighting on the table-top in [dealing with the minutia of encumbrance, rations, resource management, etc.]? The answer is that no real-life general could limit himself to the purely tactical problems of the battlefield, and a campaign is the way in which the [D&D player] general widens his horizon. 

"The player who merely participates as a [player character] finds the opportunity to practice strategy as well as tactics. He may find himself having to solve problems of supply and finance, and, if the campaign is a complicated one, matters of diplomacy, etc. as well. He must learn one of the hardest lessons for [of D&D play]: when to cut his losses and abandon [an adventure], instead of fighting to the bitter end.

"The [player] who [acts as a DM] to run a campaign gains even more, for he can give full reign to his creative genius, both as regards the rules he uses and the countries and characters he creates. A radio interviewer once asked me whether the desire to run a mythical continent of my own was a sign of power mania; I replied that this was possibly true to some extent, since most of us like playing God to some degree, but more important was the freedom it gave to a bent for organizing things.

"As your campaign develops, you will find yourself adding fresh angles to it which, while quite unnecessary from a purely practical viewpoint, can add much fun and interest to the proceedings.

"It is however true of campaigning, as of so many other things, that the amount of enjoyment to be obtained from it is pro rata to the amount of effort that is put into it. This will vary from person to person and group to group according to ow much time and interest people have to spare, but the main ingredient necessary is enthusiasm for the project and a sense of responsibility toward the other players. 

"...if you are running a large or complicated campaign it is necessary to pick your players wisely."

[excerpted, with adjustment, from the introduction]

None of which is very new info to longtime readers of geezer blogs like this one...as I said, the remarkable bit is just how much of it is applicable to D&D and how old this material is. 

Following the introduction, Bath gets down to the nitty-gritty of building one's campaign from the ground up...assuming you are creating a fictional setting like Bath's own Hyborea campaign. And, of course you are: you are a Dungeon Master for a D&D game that is going to have magic and monsters and whatnot even if it is set in (a fantasy version of) our real world.  Bath discusses the drawing of maps, the outlining of political borders, the importance of rivers and roads and natural features, the seeding of population centers, and the impact and use of weather. He discusses setting up factions and characters (and their personalities), determining resources and economics of nation-states, and how all these things drive the campaign, creating dynamic environments and providing ideas for situations and scenarios. 

It is all good advice and most of it is readily adaptable to one's D&D game.

What I am lauding here is practical application of Bath's procedures to world-building. This is not about crafting histories and backstories and "plots" or "story arcs." These things are unnecessary to creating and running a campaign that is vibrant and engaging for the players.

What IS necessary is a world with things to do. A world with a degree of verisimilitude, where there are consequences (good, bad, and indifferent) to the actions of the players. A world that gives the players the chance to make an impact based on their own actions. 

Of his own campaign world, Hyboria, Bath writes the following:

"Like all good things, Hyboria had small beginnings. In the early days I had no experience of campaigns and only the vaguest ideas on rules of map movement; things like finances, supply, etc. had not yet reared their ugly heads with all their attendant complications. So we...usually just decided to have a war between two countries and set up one or possibly two battles which decided the result of the war. That was back in the dim and distant past -- in fact the first two or three battles were actually fought on the floor with 54mm solid figures -- a process I definitely don't recommend.

" The long history of Hyboria (which is all recorded in very considerable detail) began with the first Brythunian war when the ambitious King Mamedides of Hyperborea invaded its southern neighbor. This resulted in the Battle of Warrior's Pass, fought under the most extraordinary rules, and the repulse of the invasion. I commanded the Brythunians on this occasion; I then changed and led a second Hyperborean invasion, which was more successful..."

Please take note: the history of Bath's campaign world (which he chronicled in SoA's bi-monthly newletter Slingshot) BEGAN with these first battles. His world was created by adapting various real world cultures (ancient Greek and Roman and Persian, medieval European and Viking, American Indian, etc.) to a fictional map drawn from Howard's tales, and then assigning it characteristics: here is a wealthy country. Here is an ambitious ruler. Here is a mountain pass. How do these things intersect with each other to create an interesting, playable scenario?  

Do we care what has gone before (play began)?  No! What matters is the play of the game. The world-building sets the stage for the play. We may, after play begins, chronicle the history of how play unfolded...how legends arose from our gaming table...if it so amuses us (as, generally, it does). But as players of a game (whether Dungeons & Dragons or a wargame), it matters not a whit to us WHY, for example, a PC became a magic-user instead of a druid or monk. We do not care about backstory or motivation; we are not actors researching a role for a play, nor authors plotting a trilogy of novels. What we care about is the situation at hand and how the game will play out.

Dungeons & Dragons was created by wargamers, and its no wonder: in Bath's writing he constantly name-drops fantasy authors like Tolkien, Leiber, Srague de Camp, etc. (authors found in Gygax's "Appendix N") as being widely read by members of his Society of Ancients and being inspirational reading for wargaming campaigns...even though SoA itself decided very early on NOT to include anything "fantastical" in their rules and games. The idea of "fantasy adventure" fires the passions and imaginations of LOTS of people, not just wargamers. But wargamers, by trade, seek to create rules and model adventure in a fashion that allows its experience in a safe, comfortable environment. Around the gaming table, in other words. 

D&D, and other fantasy adventure games, simply "drill down" to a more specific, smaller level than large scale warfare.  And by doing that, they make the experience of play even more intense and personal to the people involved. Which might account for why the FAG hobby has more devotees than wargaming in the present, even if there is a lot of confusion on the best way to run/play the game.

More blueprint posts to follow.

Inspirational And Educational Reading

"Inspirations for all of the fantasy work I have done stems directly from the love my father showed when I was a tad, for he spent many hours telling me stories he made up as he went along, tales of cloaked old men who could grant wishes, of magic rings and enchanted swords, or wicked sorcerers and dauntless swordsmen. Then too, countless hundreds of comic books went down, and the long-gone EC ones certainly had their effect. Science fiction, fantasy, and horror movies were a big influence. In fact, all of us tend to get ample helpings of fantasy when we are very young, from fairy tales such as those written by the Brothers Grimm and Andrew Long. This often leads to reading books of mythology, paging through bestiaries, and consultation of compilations of the myths of various lands and peoples. Upon such a base I built my interest in fantasy, being an avid reader of all science fiction and fantasy literature since 1950. The following authors were of particular inspiration to me. In some cases I cite specific works, in others I simply recommend all their fantasy writing to you. From such sources, as well as just about any other imaginative writing or screenplay you will be able to pluck kernels from which grow the fruits of exciting campaigns. Good reading!"

[Inspirational Reading list follows, then:]

"The most immediate influences upon AD&D were probably de Camp & Pratt, REH, Fritz Leiber, Jack Vance, HPL, and A. Merritt; but all of the above authors, as well as many not listed certainly helped to shape the form of the game. For this reason, and for the hours of reading enjoyment, I heartily recommend the works of these fine authors to you."

Gary Gygax's much lauded "Appendix N" shows up on page 224 of the first edition DMG...a list of fantasy books and authors that EGG held up as particularly inspirational and influential to his writing of the Dungeons & Dragons game. 

Yet, despite being enjoyable reading, none of these books will provide much of a map or outline of how to run the game of D&D or even describe (much) of what a D&D game should look like. Oh, there similar themes, scenes, and events that might be found in any particular game session. But while "Appendix N" may give one a good feel for the fantasy that shaped the imaginations of Gygax, Arneson, etc. they are not instructional when it comes to teaching the game of Dungeons & Dragons. Trying to run your game so that it looks like a Howard or Leiber story will, at best, result in some kind of pastiche or homage to those authors. 

And while creating such pastiche can be good fun, it stagnates readily enough, much as any type of "railroad gaming" becomes (sooner or later) stale and unsatisfactory. In this case, the railroad is one of genre, rather than story...though, of course, hewing too closely to any fictional inspiration can result in the DM using force to that end as well. "Don't let the rules (or dice rolls) get in the way of telling a good story" is an aphorism sadly parroted throughout RPG circles...even those styling themselves as "Old School" gamers.

Despite the long list of monsters and magic and concepts (like "alignment") that were taken from these authors...in much the same way that mythology and books of historic medieval armaments were purloined for the game...Dungeons & Dragons, as a game, neither models nor even attempts to model these stories. And attempting to run one's game so that it looks like a Howard or Leiber or (God forbid!) Lovecraft story is a fool's errand and a disservice to the game itself. 

Dungeon Masters are not authors; at least, not when we are operating in our role as Dungeon Master. 

The job of an author is to tell a story. Short stories provide a problem or scenario for the protagonist to struggle against; long stories (novels) show how a protagonist develops and changes over time given the events of the book. Both of these apply to the Dungeons & Dragons game (our player characters struggle in the immediate term against the challenges set by the DM and over time they grow and change), but in D&D this is done without a directed course. There s no premise being addressed, no theme being explored, no climax that needs to be met. A game of D&D is NOT a story, not in the way the books in Appendix N are. 

It is, rather, the "story of our lives," which is to say the process of living and existing...even though the lives being lived are completely and wholly of our imagination. This may sound ridiculous, but D&D is an experiential (fantasy) adventure game and, in the end "living" an imaginary life is what the game play...for players...boils down to. 

In this regard, I believe that Tolkien's book The Hobbit may be the closest of the Appendix N books to describing a D&D campaign. Yes, it has all the trappings: monsters, treasure, spells, "dungeons" (the goblin caves, the elf king's halls, the Lonely Mountain), swords and wizards and "demi-humans." But the novel is far more than just its recognizable "fantasy" tropes: Here is a world setting, carefully crafted by its maker. Here are events and challenges faced by a group of protagonists, cooperating for mutual success. Here are choices being offered that may lead to peril and/or the possibility of reward, and always with additional, character-driven consequences...consequences which, in turn, shape the on-going campaign and the narrative ("story") of that campaign.

And here, also, are the logistical issues of adventure...those aspects that change the game from a simple fairy tale adventure story, to an immersive experience with verisimilitude. Issues of food and shelter, baggage trains, overland travel, and inclement weather. Relationships with powerful individuals that need to be groomed and/or carefully managed (not just Beorn, but the goblin king, the elf king, the Master of Lake Town, etc.). These aspects of "life" cannot be ignored if one seeks to play D&D over the long-term...the manner of play in which it reaches its highest level.

Conan's episodic adventures, enjoyable as they are, are adolescent at best, in comparison.

In this regard, The Hobbit is highly reminiscent of H. Rider Haggard's classic adventure novel, King Solomon's Mines. Despite its 19th century timeline and lack of "classic fantasy" tropes, Haggard's book has plenty of D&D-style adventure in its pages: exploration and privation, treasure seeking and combat, ancient, subterranean labyrinths (complete with traps), and interpersonal relationships with NPCs both helpful and hostile. Despite its anachronistic setting and the shortness of its scope (the book details only one "adventure" per se...though an admittedly massive one), there is a lot for the DM to learn about crafting a scenario worthy of the long-term D&D campaign.

Haggard's book also demonstrates how much raw power and adventure can be generated just using the history, cultures, mythology and geography of our own world. Rather than invent from whole cloth, or create pastiche of favorite fantasy books and films, most Dungeon Masters will find it more productive to seek out the same sources of inspiration and educational reading that informed the settings and scenarios of their favorite fantasy authors (like those in Appendix N): namely, the non-fiction books concerning our real world. Most, if not all, of the strange and weird cultures and situations described from Bracket and Moorecock, Howard and Leiber, are simple re-skinnings and/or re-imaginings of our own world's past (and, in some cases, its present). Many are the neophyte DM who disregards or downplays the "banality" of our mundane "real world" in favor of "true fantasy," failing to understand that the fantasy authors they best love and admire were drawing directly from real world sources. Before the last century or two, our world  had thousands of years of untamed wilderness, mighty cultures (rising and falling), supernatural beliefs, perilous journeys, and adventurous folk of all languages and skin tones looking to find "fortune and glory." That many of us equate "adventure stories" with European/Western colonialism is a sad commentary on the lack of depth in our literary inventory: we read of crusader knights and gold-hungry Spaniards and completely neglect the fact that there are humans in every corner of the globe and history who have sought to rise above their station through adventurous means. 

"Fortune-hunting adventurer" has NEVER been the exclusive purview of white dudes.

However, let us not digress too far from the subject at hand: creating an easy-to-follow blueprint for running Dungeons & Dragons. The DMG is, of course, a great sourcebook and place to start...kind of like the Bible is a nice book to read if you want to be a Christian. But, just as Christianity (any form) needs a bit more to find a lasting and satisfying spiritual life, you're going to need more than just your copy of Gygax's opus.

As of today, the BEST books I've read that describe a typical "Gygaxian campaign" of the AD&D variety are those written by Gygax himself, specifically Saga of Old City and Artifact of Evil. These are...admittedly...terrible books, but they are EXCELLENT descriptions of what a 1E campaign would look like, especially the latter book (Artifact). They aptly demonstrate the weird, kitchen-sink fantasy of Gygax, show how alignment works, displays the emphasis of mass combat (while still maintaining small-scale, personal action), and pays no nevermind to the various anachronisms of speech and culture that crop up during a game session. D&D play is not about method acting or historical reenactment; it is a game designed to be experienced by the players. Reading these books, while perhaps painful to the more erudite amongst us, does show what your average, competent 1E campaign looks like if you play with all the bells & whistles of the original seven volumes (DMG, PHB, MM, MM2, FF, DDG, UA). 

That doesn't make it a great campaign...but it does make it a great example. And probably the best example in print (apologies to Dave Arneson and his First Fantasy Campaign book).

Now, in my next post, I'll discuss the foundational text for creating your own campaign; not the DMG or anything in its "Appendix N," but a pertinent book written with a similar, parallel objective in mind: Tony Bath's Ancient Wargaming.

How Harry Potter Ruined Literature

Well, not all literature, of course. Just children's literature.

As part of the "clean up" of my mother's estate, I've had to go through all her worldly possessions, the vast bulk of which were retained in the house in which she lived the last 45 years. My mother was not one to throw things out that might retain usefulness...and far less likely to do so for anything of sentimental value...and so I've found plenty of possessions that I recall her having owned since BEFORE we moved into the house where she lived the majority of her life (i.e. the house my family moved to when I was four years old). Hell, I've found things from before MY time, carefully preserved, in boxes, chest, dressers, etc.  An old steamer trunk contained not only her wedding veil, but the top piece from her wedding cake and (what I can only presume is) a  saved piece of the cake itself. A cedar "hope chest" containing mementoes of her childhood, including her own childhood journals, diaries, and scrap books. 75 years of life saved...her own, her family's, those of myself and my brother.

And, of course, books. My family..on my mother's side...has always been readers and lovers of books. I own shelves and shelves of books in my own home...more than half a dozen stuffed full. My mother had twice as many, most of which go from floor to ceiling, some shelves having two rows of books (one in front of the other)...and then there are cardboard boxes, crates, filled with other books (carefully organized by author or genre) that she probably intended for donation, having found a need to clear shelf space (to make room for new volumes). 

Going through the books in my mother's home, I have come across shelves containing my own books...books from my youth, books that I haven't read since I was a child of 10 or 11 or younger. Most of these slim paperbacks, the kinds of books one (once) found on the shelves of school and public libraries designated for young readers. Adventures or mysteries or (subdued) science fiction featuring young (kid or teen) protagonists. What I used to think of as typical kids reading. Many of these...especially anything with a detective or mystery or "horror" (think "ghost story") theme I've collected for my daughter, who struggles to find books that pique (let alone hold) her interest. 

And I realized something the other day as I collected these books and showed them to my nine year old and saw her delight and excitement...I realized just how different children's books are these days. The books that I used to read...regardless of the genre, regardless of supernatural or fantastical elements that they might include...were still just about kids. Normal everyday kids. Kids thrust into strange situations or experiencing dramatic circumstances, but kids readily identifiable as normal children. 

NOT individuals suddenly discovering that they have "magic powers" and are destined to go to wizard school to learn why they speak to snakes. NOT kids who are descended from Greek gods. NOT kids who have been trained since birth to become super spies covertly working for MI6 or the CIA as soon as they hit puberty. NOT children endowed with wealth and resources and family legacies of secret societies.

In other words, NOT the protagonists of the various popular kids books...or, rather, series of books...that line the shelves of Barnes & Noble and that my son (and the few kids we know that might read as voraciously as my son) tends to read. Kids' literature these days are not about a normal child having to deal with an extraordinary turn of events...instead, they are stories of extraordinary, fantastical "children" dealing with the burden of being some sort of "Chosen One" figure.

WTF.

Frankly, it made me (and makes me) more and more irritated the more I think about it. Yes, the Pevensie children of C.S. Lewis's The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe are destined to become the High Kings and Queens or Cair Paravel, but only after starting as normal everyday children and undergoing incredible experiences. They are quite ordinary in many respects, and the children of Lewis's later Narnia chronicles are even MORE ordinary...just normal kids trying to get by in spite of the weirdness of their surroundings. The same holds true for Baum's Dorothy Gale...folks of Oz may presume Dorothy has some magical powers or abilities, but Dorothy herself operates under no such delusion. 

But those aren't the books I'm talking about anyway. Those take place in Narnia or Oz or whatever...most of the children's books I'm talking about take place on real world Earth with normal kids that discover an extra-terrestrial or a treasure map or a haunted castle or whatever. Normal kids with normal kid issues (family, school, whatever) in addition to whatever circumstances the author of the book throws at them...and forced to find inner resolve or ingenuity or courage or determination or whatever to deal with that extraordinary situation as a normal child in addition to dealing with the standard kid issues of family, school, etc.  

In REAL fashion. Not just casting a spell on your parents to make them forget you exist so you can go off and fight evil with your wand.

I'm sorry...I know a lot of my readers are probably twenty-plus years younger than myself and grew up reading and loving Rowling's books. I've never liked them all that much. And their incredible success has fueled trends in children's literature that I dislike immensely. Call me an old curmudgeon (I call myself one anyway).

Just wanted to get that all off my chest.

Dragons & Hoards

This could probably have been entitled "Fantasy Economics (p.3)" but I thought the subject deserved a catchier title. 'Cause today we're talking dragons.

While it's easy to grasp how treasure might be mined, minted, and circulated in coin form (and thus acquired by adventurers) a more pressing/nagging question for some folks is certainly 'why do monsters hoard treasure?' While ancient tombs guarded by undead Midas-types are self-explanatory (reasons why they're un-looted remain unclear), what's less obvious may be the desire by living folk...the orcs and goblins and giants and whatnot...to acquire chests full of the local human currency. Surely they're not a part of the local economy, right? You don't find hobgoblins drinking at the tavern or shopping for knives at the local farmer's market, do you?

[well, you could, of course. The DragonLance books have occupying soldiers (including hobgoblins and draconians) interacting with the locals, buying food and drink, harassing the barmaids, etc. But injecting this kind of symbiotic relationship with sentient humanoids into one's campaign might make the players feel more like murderers than they already do!]

The mistake here is in assuming that the monsters have no economy of their own. Okay, slimes and golems and owlbears (probably) don't...but the sentient races most certainly have something. These are tool-using societies. They build, they manufacture, they eat food, they wear textiles, they have a language for communicating with each other. And remember what coinage is: an easy, portable medium of exchange for goods and services. Coins are certainly useful and practical for ANY sentient species, both within their own community and with other communities...at least those communities that aren't as xenophobic (and murderous) as your average human town or village.

[remember that bit in Tolkien about some goblins/orcs having alliances with dwarves? Forget "racial animosity" for a moment and consider that two subterranean species are most likely to simply be fighting...when they ARE fighting...over the same prime territory/resources/food supply. Kind of like real life humans]

Dragons, however, are a different matter.

Even mind flayers have societies (though probably not one you want to visit). Dragons, on the other hand, are solitary creatures, only occasionally being found with a mate or clutch of young. And yet dragons are renowned for their treasure hoards...in fact, it is the promised acquisition of vast wealth that can entice foolhardy adventurers to brave certain death in a dragon's lair.

[I mean, except for the grossly stupid 5E version of the game, with its empty-handed dragons]

But WHY do dragons have hoards filled with thousands upon thousands of coins? That is the question. Because it's a fairy tale trope? Because they collect shiny stuff like a magpie? Because they just want to deprive humans of their precious wealth?

The film Flight of Dragons (loosely based on Dickson's The Dragon and the George) suggests dragons covet gold to act as "fireproof bedding" on which to lay. I'm not buying it. Lizards and snakes suffer little discomfort sleeping on hard rock (they prefer it, in fact, as it helps warm their cold blood on a sunny day)...and, anyway, dirt is softer than metal and just as fireproof. Plus, dragon breath is extremely destructive...certainly hot enough to melt gold (in the case of red dragons). Besides, D&D dragons aren't exclusively fire-breathers and is a gold bed really going to help against acid saliva? How about electricity?

Let's start with biology.

The first thing everyone should understand is that dragons need to eat. However, they appear reptilian, which would generally means a slower metabolism. Large snakes (like boa constrictors) can go three to four weeks without eating. Crocodiles can go months (though they generally eat every other week). Komodo dragons eat only one meal per month.

So dragons probably don't need to eat all that often...which is a good thing because, being large creatures, they're going to need to consume large amounts of food when they finally tuck in. A snake will eat 15-20% of its body weight; Komodo dragons can eat as much as 80% of their body weight in a single day. Crocodiles and alligators generally eat as much as their prey supply allows (they'll just keep eating), but they can get by on 5% of their body weight every couple weeks and they're just fine. For me, I'm inclined to go the Komodo route (with long periods of sleeping/dormancy) in order to prevent the countryside from becoming too devastated.

Well, then how much does a dragon weigh? An excellent question, and one without an easy answer. Lots of editions of D&D provide numbers on length for the various dragon types, and some even give out wingspans (I think it's 2E that notes span as approximately the same as length), but there isn't any hard weight measurements...unless you go by 3E's size charts which are, frankly, preposterous. Dragons have to be able to fly, after all, and so weight in relation to wings becomes incredibly important.

Here's a good article on wing loading, applicable to both animals and aircraft. Wing load is expressed as a ratio of mass (in kg) to wing surface area (in square meters), and with regard to birds (who don't benefit from jet propulsion) the practical limit for flight is about 25:1 (some particularly ungainly gliders, like the albatross, might exceed this a bit). That is to say if the mass exceeds 25kg to the square meter of wing surface area, it ain't getting off the ground (hello kiwi!). As such, clocking a "colossal" red dragon at 12+ tons (per the 3E MM)...well, it ain't happening.

I spent the good part of the other day estimating mass based on comparable reptiles and various sizes of wings to arrive at sensible conclusions. In the end, I ended up going with ratios provided by the greatest dragon ever to grace celluloid: Vermithrax Pejorative from the film Dragonslayer. Created by Hal Barwood and Matthew Robbins, the idea behind Vermithrax was to make the creature as frightening as possible while still making it fairly realistic and practical. The scale they decided on was a 40' length (which is more or less the scale of a D&D dragon) with a wingspan of 90' which, based on images I calculate to have a rough surface area of 107 meters square plus change. Given a scaled up Komodo for weight (something in the range of about 3 tons...Vermithrax is skinnier/tapered after all, and female to boot) gives us a wing load ratio right at the edge of the 25:1 mark...enough to get Vermithrax off the ground where she can soar on the air currents.

With these figures in mind and using the same proportions (in conjunction with the length measurements provided in the Monster Manual), I came up with the following average weights for various dragons (and, thus, the amount of food they need to consume):

• White: 1,620# (1,296# per month)
• Black: 2,531# (2,025# per month)
• Green: 3,645# (2,916# per month)
• Blue: 4,961# (3,968# per month)
• Red: 6,480# (5,184# per month)

There are better pix of
her wings...I just like this one.

These figures are ROUGH estimates, and don't take into account the vast range that can occur between size and age categories (not to mention dragons of different sexes...in the reptile kingdom males are generally 15-25% larger than females). However, it gives me an idea of what such a creature might be eating based on its natural habitat. 

[for example, a white dragon would do well with large seals or the odd polar bear, whereas a red dragon will need two or three cows, and a black dragon would be constantly eating whatever it can find in the swamp...much like a croc. Blue dragons would find it impossible to survive in a desert climate, unless eating some sort of fantasy critter (bulettes? small purple worms?)...in my own world, I'm more inclined to make them island dwellers and have 'em hunt pilot whale and similar aquatic mammals]

"But, JB...what does this have to do with a dragon's lust for treasure?"

Right...back to the point! This concept of dragons and their hoards are based on fairy tales, going all the way back to Fafnir, if not earlier. But fairy tales are stories and self-contained. They entertain us, perhaps impart a moral lesson, and then they're done...folks live 'happily ever after' or (like Beowulf) they don't. 

But with advanced gaming, we are engaging with the campaign world, living in it and experiencing the thing. The treasure of a dragon (for treasure they must have, it is part of what makes a dragon a dragon and part of the raison d'etre of adventurers braving their lairs) must make some sense. Certainly the size of the hoard being comparable to the dragon's age and might is sensible...it takes time to accumulate wealth, and dragons are long lived. But what about the HOW and WHY? Dragon claws aren't really designed for subtle manipulation, like picking up and counting coins. And while I can understand the odd magic item or piece of jewelry being the remains of would-be slayers that found their way into the dragon's den, surely those dead adventurers weren't carrying hundreds (or thousands) of pounds of coin on them...they went seeking death with EMPTY sacks, not ones already bursting.

It seems clear to me that for a creature that doesn't mine, and doesn't manufacture (or mint) that the best explanation for the treasure hoard is that it is TRIBUTE...tribute paid by lesser beings, bribes (in a way), to prevent the dragon from destroying villages and consuming both citizens and livestock. Of course, dragons don't go on shopping sprees, so the tribute simply accumulates over time (the hoard grows larger and larger) but dragons are an intelligent species...even the stupidest having an intelligence of 8 or 9...so they must have a reason for wanting and accepting such offerings:

1. Being an intelligent species, they understand the value of treasure and the size of their hoard is a matter of prestige and pride. A larger hoard symbolizes more power, thus a "better," stronger, smarter dragon. Dragons don't appear to have a society (though they might, just one invisible to the average human) but hoard comparisons could be used to determine rank and status among their own kind.
2. Size and composition of hoard would certainly be a factor in determining the suitability of a mate. D&D dragons are found in mated pairs, suggesting a form of monogamy or "mating for life." Not only does a dragon's hoard describe a better (more powerful) partner, but the joining of two dragons requires one to leave its hoard behind (they have no way to transport it!), so the dominant of the two must have a hoard of sufficient size for the both of them.
3. Dragons, as stated, need to eat...a lot!...even though (like reptiles) they can experience long periods of dormancy. While human-sized prey is hardly a snack for any size dragon (and a halfling isn't even a mouthful), a party of humans, plus their mounts and pack animals, might prove enough food that they can go without leaving their lair (thus conserving energy) for a longer period of time. A treasure hoard is thus an enticement for "intelligent" (i.e. foolhardy) prey to come to them. 
4. Finally, D&D dragons are portrayed as "cowardly" because of the rules for subduing dragons; however, this just shows their intelligence and sense of self-preservation. While dragons are loathe to relinquish any of their treasure (because a diminished hoard size is detrimental to the motives already listed) bribing powerful individuals is better than dying. Should a party prove too strong for an individual dragon, the hoard can be used to "buy off" the invaders. Being an intelligent being with a lifespan measured in centuries, dragons can afford to take the "long view;" better for a young dragon to seek greener pastures, establishing a new lair and beginning (again) the acquisition of tribute. Thus, the hoard also represents a bit of a "safety net," though some particularly old and curmudgeonly dragons might find it worth dying for ('I ain't moving!').

And so we have yet another reason that monsters will have a desire to accumulate treasure: living in wilderness areas inhabited by dragons, such creatures (goblins, trolls, ogres, etc.) will need all the money they can mine, borrow, or steal just to keep the dragons from devouring their villages. Human towns...what with their curtain walls and towers, armored knights and wizards...are too dangerous (or too much of a pain in the ass) for the average dragon to bother with. But out in the wilderness...in the swamps or mountains or jungle or arctic regions...a dragon can get by, hunting large game and reaping the rewards of subservient, fearful lesser beings who also make their homes far from the murderous humans and their allies.

Makes perfect sense to me.

; )

Killing Gods, Final Thoughts

There's a lot to write about deities and their place in D&D...so much so that it would be the epitome of easy to allow this series to spiral endlessly down endless digressions. As such, I think it's time to bring it to a close; I'm sure I'll have the chance to revisit the topic in the future.

For ease of reference:

Part 1

Part 1 Addendum

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

The initial impetus for this series was Prince of Nothing's (probably facetious) comment on an earlier post:

I think if you could manage to distill the right approach to portraying S&S style deities in DnD, complete with a few examples, you'd be doing the OSR a huge favor.

Never one to pass up doing a "favor" for the OSR (!!) I set out in my normal meandering fashion, throwing out the odd barb and jab as is my wont. While I despair of having distilled "the right approach" to the subject of S&S style deities, the series has at least helped me to distill my own thoughts. Here then is what I believe:

While D&D draws inspiration from the Sword & Sorcery genre, for long-term play it is probably best to draw parallels to long form fiction...which S&S ain't. S&S generally applies to short stories, dealing with a particular situation that a protagonist must face. Many of D&D's major influences (Leiber, Howard, Moorcock) wrote in this form...the books of Conan or Elric or Mouser are compilations of short stories rather than actual novels. A distinguishing characteristic of the novel is that a protagonist changes over the course of the book; such is not the case with the short story. Elric is much the same asshole at the end of the series as he is in the beginning; Bilbo or Frodo, on the other hand, are changed drastically by the course of events in their respective novels. D&D can be played like short fiction (i.e. in episodic fashion) but PCs that survive are forced to change by the very rule system by which we play (a 12th level wizard or fighter or thief bears no resemblance to a 1st level character with regard to capability or responsibility). 

S&S deities are reflective of the genre, i.e. they serve the needs of the situation at hand whether you're talking the mysterious entity encountered by Jirel in Black God's Kiss, Arioch's whimsical cruelty in Elric of Melnibone, or the soon-to-be-beheaded naga in God in a Bowl. Attention to continuity and coherence are of secondary importance to telling the story of the protagonist's particular adventure of the moment. For the same reason, there's no single particular way gods are portrayed in the S&S genre: Crom may be a mythical non-entity for all his appearances in Howard's work, while Death is an incarnate being in Leiber's Nehwon setting.

D&D, however, is meant to be played as a campaign over a lengthy (perhaps endless!) period of time, and thus a coherent cosmology is imperative to the setting, in order to facilitate the players' engagement with the game. If the rules for the cosmology shift constantly, depending on the needs of the DM's "story," it works to break the players' immersion and undermine their faith in the DM as a fair and impartial arbiter of the rules. 

And D&D has rules for deities baked into the game. Every edition I've played or read, with the exception of un-supplemented OD&D, has some version of "gods" inherent in the system, followed and worshipped by clerics (Mentzer's BECMI tries to take them out, but then adds the Immortal rules, many of which are named/modeled after the same gods found in historic religions of the world). Finding the "proper way" to portray gods in the game is a non-issue when the rules for modeling divinities are already hard-coded into the system.

Essential Reading

SO...if there is no specific S&S way to portray gods, and D&D already has rules for modeling gods in the game, and if (as I propose) the best way to play D&D is long-term with consistent attention to  setting cosmology (to allow maximum familiarity and, thus, immersion of the players), what then do I postulate is the best way to write gods into adventures?

And, for this, I look to the early (pre-1982ish shift) adventure modules as my examples. Here are the conclusions I draw:

• Gods exist, they are immensely powerful (by PC standards) yet still fallible; there is no "eternal Supreme Being" in D&D, that role being taken by the Dungeon Master, who creates the entirety of the campaign setting, including the gods worshipped by the player characters.
• There are creatures that attempt to imitate and/or are worshipped as gods but who are not; likewise, there are priests that promote false practices and/or worship false deities. Such deceptions can be sniffed out by the simple fact that no spell powers are granted to these would-be clerics.
• Being that the gods exist, they may be encountered by the player characters. Being that the gods' power is an order of magnitude far greater than that of the PCs, the way and manner of such encounters should be commensurate with the capability of the characters, as defined by the game rules. Having the gods (mainly) inhabit the outer planes is an altogether practical approach, as planar travel is generally limited to high level characters.
• Divinities may still be encountered indirectly...through agents, avatars, and relics...even by low- to mid-level characters, and such encounters with divine forces often break standard rules (helping imply the immensity of the divinity's power). Examples include the chaotic chapel in The Keep on the Borderlands, the temples to the Elder Elemental in the Giant modules, the Shrine of the Kuo-Toa, and (of course) Lolth in Vault of the Drow. Being that D&D is a magical world and the PCs are bold adventurers, such indirect encounters may be more common than one might suppose...unlike actual encounters with divine entities.
• Given the rules as written, PCs can kill gods. Doing so should be damn near impossible, which is not the same thing as "impossible." The consequences of such a deicide would be profound: the permanent death of Lolth would eliminate the Drow as a meaningful threat both above and below ground (and would probably lead to their genocide at the hands of the other Underdark species). Such scenarios should never be taken lightly, and are probably best suited as a capstone adventure to a campaign that is coming to a close. Definitely nothing I'd want to see for PCs below name level.

And there it is: the end of this series. Probably NOT as specific as Prince wanted, but still some guidelines to follow. And I honestly feel I've said about all I have to say on the subject...for now. Though, as always, I am happy to field questions, comments, and discussion.

Pax.

: )

Whimsy - An Addendum

I guess I have a few more things to say following yesterday's "Whimsy" post. I'll try to keep the digressions to a bare minimum. 

When I talk about whimsy in Dungeons & Dragons or adventure/game design, I'm using the definition from my old Merriam-Webster dictionary:

a fanciful or fantastic device, object, or creation esp. in writing or art

I don't mean capriciousness, nor light hearted or humorous, and I certainly don't mean "gonzo," which my MW simply defines as:

bizarre

...which is what you tend to get (in gaming) when you pile too much weird on top of weird.

When I wrote that Dragonlance was "post-apocalypse lite," I did not mean to imply it was light-hearted. I'm just saying that its particular version of PA fiction isn't quite as heavy and serious as what one finds in a "harder" look at the genre (considering "hard" to be like "hard science fiction"). And please don't infer my use of the terms "heavy" and "serious" to be "dark and awful" ...I'm saying it's not well thought out (see prior posts on steel currency and religion in DL). 

Dragonlance, for all its flaws, has whimsy. A treetop village is whimsy. A wizard cursed with hourglass eyes is whimsy. A dragon holding an elven king hostage in his own dreams is whimsy. And, yes, even a "steel currency" is whimsy...if also utter nonsense. 

No ewoks, just whimsy.

But for all its pretensions at being "epic fantasy," Dragonlance (at least in its fiction) is surprisingly down-to-earth. The characters care about money to pay for stuff. Their love lives are complicated and messy. People die of old age, get beat up, hurt, fall ill with sickness. They complain about things. They get annoyed with and yell at each other. It's not Tolkien. It's not Star Wars, following the exploits of some "chosen one." These people end up being the "heroes of the Lance," but ANYone could have been "heroes of the Lance" if they'd been in the right (wrong) place at the right (wrong) time...the reason we're following this particular group is because they are the shmucks that ended up with the job and we want to watch how exactly that happened.

[okay, there is SOME pretentious "chosen one" stuff in DL...Goldmoon and Riverwind, for example, or Raistlin being a vessel for Fistandantilus, or Tanis just "happening" to have a past relationship with a Dragon Highlord. But the other characters are more-or-less interchangeable with ANY D&D miscreants]

That, for me, is what makes whimsy work. If you have this "normal" world (assuming, for the moment, that monsters and magic-users are "normal") with otherwise normal challenges (politics and economics, combat being a dangerous proposition, etc.) THEN the injection of the occasional strangeness can produce a feeling of "magic." Whimsy can produce wonder. And that makes for a cool/better game experience.

When EVERYthing is weird/strange...so much so that the weird/strange becomes "business as usual"...that's when you get into gonzo territory. And that's a territory I don't generally like to hang out in. Maybe because it lacks a true "normal" point of reference for me to use in orienting myself to the material at hand.

Consider the animated Heavy Metal film.  The climactic short, Taarna, is pretty lame/throwaway as a story because so much of it is just weird on weird. It's an interesting visual image (at times), but the only scene that works for me at all is the one in the bar, because it reference so many tropes viewed in the western (gunslinger) genre. The BEST short of the bunch is probably Den of Earth because while the thing piles gonzo weirdness on top of gonzo weirdness it has a running narration from John Candy providing a "normal dude" commentary on all the weirdness. Despite its psychedelic plot/visuals it never loses its viewers' perspective or orientation.

"This mutant speaks
pretty good English."

Some OSR stuff...even some of the best OSR stuff...just has a hard time with this. Operation Unfathomable (which I own in hardcopy) is an example that springs immediately to mind. It's weird on top of weird with no chance to catch one's breath, no true respite from the gonzo, no chance to sit back and take stock. It's still cool, incredibly imaginative and evocative, definitely a fun read...and probably NOT an adventure I'll ever run. I want long-term campaign play (or gaming that has the potential for campaign play) not one-off weirdness. A world that will develop over time in recognizable fashion by the actions of the players, not something that starts strange, stays strange, and only gets stranger.  That ain't whimsy!

Neither is whimsy (necessarily) humorous or light-hearted. My buddy, Kris, who wrote the Black Rock Island adventure? Not a humorous dude. Too serious, one might say, though given to a terse chuckle when something (rarely) tickles his funny bone. Knowing him as I do, I'd say any humor or slapstick in the adventure is completely unintentional. He just isn't a jokey kind of guy (and the things that he does find amusing aren't always the same as the average person). Most humorous and "punny" stuff injected into old TSR adventures he'd call "dumb." And the black humor found in stuff like Warhammer FRP would just go straight over his head...just wouldn't even register.

Yes, whimsy can be light-hearted and humorous. A race of kleptomaniac halflings cannot help but draw chuckles if used with some restraint (they're really not much different from the mischievous house brownies of folklore). So can foodstuffs with magical properties. So can talking monsters that exhibit human-style foibles and personality flaws.

In the long-running AD&D campaign of my youth we had one character with an intelligent talking sword. It was beefy...a +4 broadsword with both dancing and defending properties, if I remember correctly...but it just would not shut up. Thing had a British accent, so was called "Chap" and the PC would argue with it constantly (it had a higher intelligence than its wielder). Both fanciful and amusing, after the character was retired from play, she'd still show up as a (shared) NPC, an occasional bit of comic relief in our games.

Comic relief has probably always been a necessary part of D&D play, because the game can be very tense and very emotional even when its not grim, dark, and awful. But comic relief isn't the point of "whimsy." Whimsy's purpose is to add magic to a game that might otherwise resemble nothing more than a numbers tracking game...whether you're talking hit points or gold or encumbrance or experience. D&D is more than just resource management and friends kabitzing around a table. And whimsy, in the right dosage, helps elevate the experience of play to something even more fanciful and fantastical.

That, I think, is what this game is all about: experiencing a fantasy. Folks may have additional reasons for playing, but they pale in comparison. There are better role-playing games for competition, challenge, and telling stories. But nothing's quite like D&D when you can add a bit of whimsy.

All right, that's enough for now.

Literacy

I'm guessing this post will be shorter than the last one. Yay!

Continuing the discussion of languages in D&D, we move on to the subject of literacy which for game purposes I'm going to define as "the ability to communicate through writing." That's a little more than the literal definition of the term (which is simply the ability to read and write), but for purposes of a game rule/system I want to make sure I'm considering "practical application."

The history of writing is a long and interesting one that predates the invention of paper. Mainly, the need for a written form of communication seems to have been tied to the rise of administration/bureaucracy (which itself was only made possible by the advent of agrarian culture and large communities of people starting to congregate). This is a gross simplification (I am as much a hack academic as I am a hack writer), but it works well enough for where I'm going with this (plus I said I wanted this to be shorter!).

The main part of originating writing is the development of an alphabet: illustrative characters that can represent sounds, words, or whole concepts. The alphabet I use (that I'm typing in right now) is the Latin alphabet, first developed some 2700 years ago (though it wasn't the same then as it is today). Other alphabets developed other places. Some of these are still used today, many have fallen by the way (or been subsumed into others). 

The latin alphabet is used throughout most of the "western world," because of the reach of the old Roman Empire and its influence on the rise of western culture. Romans needed writing because they had a gigantic bureaucracy to administer. Prior to its fall, folks living within the empire (both citizens and non-) enjoyed a high level of literacy and writing seems to have been quite proliferate. After the disintegration of the Empire...and the loss of a cheap source of writing material (papyrus from Egypt), literacy fell drastically in western Europe, and would remain low for centuries. 

[one might ask which came first: loss of literacy or loss of governmental cohesion. They probably fed into each other in a death spiral of de-evolution]

Again...I am grossly simplifying because it's not my objective to write a long essay on the subject (lots of good sources on this stuff exists for interested folks). However, for purposes of world building...and then rule design...this gross simplification provides the foundational material I'm working with.

Does the Dungeons & Dragons world need literacy? That's not a terrible question to ask. Originally, the main things PCs were supposed to read included spell books, magic scrolls, and treasure maps (all of which I intend to discuss in a follow-up post). And other then scribing ones own scrolls, the only thing a character was presumed to need to write were hiring notices posted at taverns...and, of course, one could hand-wave even this, given the likely illiteracy of desirable hires (especially considering it's the exact same cost for simply "having servitors circulate in public places, seeking such persons"). 

Spells like read languages (from OD&D, book 1), magic items like a helm of reading magic and languages (from OD&D, book 2), and the thief's ability to read languages are all explicit to reading treasure maps:

Thieves of the 3rd level and above are able to read most (80%) languages, so treasure maps can be read and understood by them without recourse to a spell.

- Supplement I (Greyhawk), page 4

Reading doesn't otherwise appear to have been all that important (note the low level associated with both the spell and the thief ability) to the D&D game. As Alexis pointed out the other day, having written text for PCs to discover is generally just finding a different, novel way of delivering exposition to the players. And if that writing is in a language that they don't understand (or can't read), the only thing you're gaining is time; i.e. the DM is delaying the delivery of exposition to the PCs, which is only rarely useful.

And yet, in my mind's eye I always remember that scene in 1952 film Ivanhoe in which Robert Taylor seeks out a local priest to read a letter confirming the location of King Richard (Ivanhoe is not a stupid man but obviously an illiterate nobleman...not terribly unusual for the 12th century). It's not "exposition" that's gained from the priest's literacy, but a useful clue. Such a clue isn't necessary to your typical D&D adventuring party (who could just as easily decide to assault every keep in Austria until they find their king or die terribly), but it is a useful piece of information, helping to save resources (and lives). And the prospect of a literate captive (one with whom a literate party might communicate via message) ALSO has uses. 

Even so, that's a fairly singular example of mundane literacy being useful (the party cannot be expected to rescue a king in durance vile every week!), and as far as using written messages with each other, nothing prevents party members from working out their own coded signs...or hiring scribes to read/write for them. 

The main reason that I want literacy is from a world building perspective. I like the idea of there being books in the world to be read, and useful information to be gleaned from their pages. Sages are hella' expensive after all...though that might simply reflect the fact that few persons can read the texts in the sage's library (ooo...I like the idea of a book thief campaign!). Useful hints, rumors, legends, and even magical command words should be available to the person able to read the memoirs and journals that have been left behind by other, literate folk. And the quest for folks who can read ancient alphabets...well that can be an adventure in and of itself!

SO...to the rules. There are two parts to comprehending writing: understanding the alphabet, and understanding the language the alphabet is expressing. I can read the Latin alphabet just fine, but if the words are in Danish, I'm not going to grasp what's been written down. In my campaign world, there are only a handful of written alphabets, all developed by their own cultures (generally long ages prior to the start of the campaign) for the purpose of administering their civilizations:

• the "Common" alphabet used by humans
• ancient elvish, a script not used in a thousand years
• "common" elvish
• runic dwarf (mainly used for counting and/or religious/magical purpose)

NOTE: ancient elvish can only be used by someone with fluency in elvish; runic dwarf may only be used by someone with fluency in dwarfish. These symbols used in both these languages communicate concepts, not just sounds, and cannot be used to transliterate the languages of other cultures.

There are at least two other languages I'm toying with adding: one will be related to an ancient snake-man (yuan ti) civilization, lost in the southern jungles. The other would be an "Underdark alphabet" used as a common script by the various deep dwellers (drow, svirfneblin, etc.); though drow themselves will mainly use a "tarted up" version of ancient elvish. Mind flayers, being big-brained telepaths, have never needed to develop an alphabet. 

Most of the other sentient humanoids of game world neither have nor use alphabets of their own. Goblins, orcs, gnolls, lizard men...none of these creatures have ever had the administrative needs to develop their own forms of writing, and few have access to learning the writing of others. That doesn't mean there aren't literate humanoids! They are just few and far between and the ones that do write are most likely to use the "Common" alphabet of humans.

[though to whom would they write?]

Learning any single alphabet requires only one point from the character's pool of language points (see the rules in my fluency post). Some DMs might want to make particularly rare or difficult languages "cost more" to learn...I don't. It amuses me to have a halfling academic who knows how to write "good morning" in common elvish without actually being able to speak elvish, or to have a rather low intelligence dwarf who still knows his holy runic writing.

Oh, and just by the way: with the inclusion of these rules I will be removing the thief skill of reading languages from the game. But that will be discussed in my next post regarding secret languages.

: )

K is for Kelvin

[over the course of the month of April, I shall be posting a topic for each letter of the alphabet, sequentially, for every day of the week except Sunday. Our topic for this year's #AtoZchallenge? Revamping the Grand Duchy of Karameikos in a way that doesn't disregard its B/X roots]

K is for Kelvin. Both the barony and the man from which it takes its name.

[many hours later]

Apologies for the lateness of this post...things came up today that just had to be handled. Mm...let me see if I can get something out before midnight. It's a little pressure, but it sure beats watching Jose Altuve got yard against the M's with bases loaded.  *barf*

Okay, first the brief: Kelvin (the town) isn't on the B/X Karameikos map. It first appears as a village in Mentzer's Expert set. "Village" in both Expert sets is defined as a community of less than 1000 people...which is a little confusing when Mentzer's map shows Luln as a "town" but keeps the same B/X text stating Luln has only 500 people.

But we'll worry about Luln tomorrow...Kelvin is clearly a newer (and smaller) settlement, though over the course of post-BECMI adventure modules it quickly grows to dwarf little ol' Luln. The Karameikos gazetteer (GAZ1) increases all the original population's ten fold: Specularum is increased to 50,000 people, while both Luln and Threshold are up to 5,000. Kelvin, however, is enormous: 20,000 people...a major city by B/X standards, and the second largest community in the entire Grand Duchy (the Black Eagle Barony, at half the size, is a distant third place).

Kelvin was founded shortly after Duke Stefan came to power. The first Desmond Kelvin, "an officer and a gentleman," was "of crucial importance" during the short-lived Marilenev uprising (revolt) that occurred in response to Stefan's arrival. For his action, he was awarded the rank of baron and given lands north of Specularum where the great Volaga river forks. While uninhabited at the time, the site of the new Baron Kelvin's town is built upon the ruins of the ancient village of Lavv, onetime home of hero-king Halav...though the people of Kelvin are completely ignorant of the site's history. The town has grown and thrived due to its location as a center for trade; not only are the rivers a prime mode of transportation for merchants shipping goods, but Kelvin lies upon the Duke's Road, connecting Specularum to distant Selenica in the Republic of Darokin. It is a crossroads for traders and caravans, and has built to accommodate both, with plentiful campgrounds, stables, and inns.

In the present (1000 A.C. by the Thyatian calendar), Desmond Kelvin II is the current baron. Raised in a military tradition, he entered the clergy at the age of 13 so as to join the Order of the Griffon, the military branch of the Church of Karameikos. The baron's age is not provided; he is simply described as young, ambitious, and "the very model of military efficiency" (a little cold and curt). In GAZ1 he is a 10th level cleric, and has explicit designs on marrying the duke's eldest daughter (Lady Adriana) in order to someday be heir to the ducal title.

What's more interesting though is the way the young baron is described in the later 2E sourcebook, Karameikos: Kingdom of Adventure. While KKoA is mostly a word-for-word copy of the GAZ1 material, it takes Karameikos ten years into the future, including the events of 1992's Wrath of the Immortals (in which Archduke Stefan declares himself King and Karameikos an independent kingdom). Nearly all the NPCs from GAZ1 are aged a decade, and their backgrounds updated to reflect the passing of years. For some, this means little: "King Stefan" is 62 instead of 52, but is otherwise unchanged. Others have undergone more transformation: Lady Adriana, a mere youth of 20 in GAZ1 (and newly returned to the palace after advancing to 4th level as an adventuring fighter) is now a 30 year old settled mother of two, and the de facto heir to the throne (and has risen to 10th level).

However, she is NOT married to Baron Kelvin. Instead, she has wed the heretofore unknown Lord Devon Hyraksos, 33 year old son of Stefan's old ally, War Minister, and naval leader Admiral Lucius Hyraskos. Devon is a perfectly nice chap (i.e. "boring") and a "childhood friend," though there is some discrepancy here (Devon's own entry states he first met Adriana...and failed to recognize her...during her days of incognito adventuring). The most interesting things about the prince consort is his half-breed heritage (his father was a Thyatian nobel, his mother a Traladaran), the fact that he was born out of wedlock (in 1000 A.C. the Admiral had been married 20 years, but Devon was born in 977 A.C.), and his love of fighting pirates hand-to-hand...a practice that will probably, ultimately, be his downfall.

What's MORE interesting, though, is the effect the princess's marriage has had on the good Baron. When Adriana "spurned his advances and instead chose to wed Devon Hyraksos, Desmond was crushed and his resentment turned to anger." Even better, Hyraksos "is blissfully unaware that he has an enemy in Desmond Kelvin." Oh, boy...something to work with.

[I know it's not terribly original, but who doesn't like a good Iago-type villain? Will the play end up like Othello? Or like the Count of Monte Cristo? And what part will the player characters play in the drama?]

Well, a lot of guys would be ticked after courting the girl (and her father) for the better part of a decade before losing out to some swashbuckler type. Plus, inexplicably Kelvin got reduced in level (from 10th to 9th...while most characters got a bump up between the sourcebooks)...perhaps he had a bad run-in with a wraith that did nothing to improve his mood?

They never do list Kelvin's
actual age.

ANYWAY: lots of ideas for re-skinning the good Baron. Make him an old, lecherous man (a la Walter Frey from Game of Thrones...I mean, he's got the castle on the river crossing right?) with a penchant for young wives and a lust for vengeance against slights and indignities. They never do say how old he is.  Or make him an actual goody-good cleric...the most saintly man in Karameikos...who had hoped to bring law, order, and sanity to the decadent and debauched capitol.

Okay. Got to go.

Mix N Match

I've (probably) mentioned this in the past, but I really enjoy watching the reality show Top Chef. Personally, I'm not much of a cook, and while I'm not adverse to learning how to cook, cooking good food generally takes a loooong time...more time than I like to spend preparing my fuel. Sure this is yet another personal flaw...I don't grow my veggies or slaughter my own meat either...but while I may not have a "full appreciation" of my food, I can honestly say I have a great respect for people who do. Also, I like to eat at their restaurants whenever I can afford it.

Anyway, the thing about Top Chef is that (in addition to the sheer expression of creativity on display), is that it's fun to watch the various challenges, which usually involve a specific ingredient (or ingredients), a particular theme, or both. Top Chef's main imitator (which I don't like as much but do occasionally watch) is a show called Chopped which has pared the premise down to a specific format: cook three courses (starter, entree, and dessert) over three rounds, each round containing three specific ingredients that must be used in the dish. Each round, one of the four contestants is "chopped" till there's only one left.

[Chopped is really more of a poor man's Iron Chef. The original, mind you...I have never been able to sit through the American version and Bobby Flay is such a fraud]

I was thinking just how much fantasy these days, and especially fantasy in, of, and for role-playing games tends to echo this formula: authors and designers are taking the same "fantasy ingredients" and attempt to produce a "winning dish" (i.e. something that sells well) by "cooking" them up in different ways. Which elements exactly? Something like fighters, wizards, elves, dwarves, hobbits, monsters, treasure, good, and evil. Often thieves and cleric-ish types, too.

Now, I loves me my Tolkien: his work is inspiring, his writing often beautiful, and his world (and language) building pretty off-the-chart. But while his stuff is mythic in scope and I enjoy reading it, I can't say it's my favorite fantasy. Middle Earth isn't even the kind of fantasy world I'd want to play in or a base a campaign off.

Still, some authors dig Tolkien enough to throw their own "spin" at his epic (Brooks, Donaldson, Jordon...I'm looking at you) and there's no doubt his world has left an impression that's hard to escape. But Tolkien emulators aside, is there a point we reach when we stop liking the taste of the ingredients, no matter how well or original the manner in which they're cooked?

Maybe it's a silly question. For the author or game designer, there's something about the challenge of working with familiar elements that gets our juices flowing. And there's been some great art created from these elements: I look at Wendy Pini's "space elves," or Bakshi's Wizards, or even David Chandler's Ancient Blades trilogy (which, to my eyes is clearly inspired by B/X Dungeons & Dragons). Even the television show Game of Thrones is a ton of fun and offers yet another take on elves and monsters and gold acquisition (I find Martin's books to be a bit less fun).

But, silly question or not, I think it's worth asking: is it sustainable? Giving the fantasy critters guns and bionic implants worked for Shadowrun. Blowing up the fantasy world and making the hobbits cannibals and the dwarves into gladiators worked (somewhat) for Dark Sun. But there are more than a few games and game settings that the fantasy ingredients didn't work for. I'd be interested in seeing the financials for Al-Qadim...there's been no release of AQ material (as far as I know) since it was published with 2nd edition AD&D, and there was quite a bit of material written for it in the TSR days (material that could easily be swiped and re-purposed, as WotC likes to do).

Still without elves
...or audience!

On the other hand fantasy games that don't include these familiar ingredients simply haven't found the same level of popularity. Tekumel and Talislanta have their niche market, but it's a small niche; I would guess that the folks currently running an "old school" D&D campaign probably outnumber the total number of players who have ever run a game in M.A.R. Barker's world, but what I know is that it's really hard to find ANY blogs about Talislanta on Ye Old Internet. People may be playing fantasy with "no elves," but they sure aren't talking much about it.

Yes, yes...I realize there are more kinds of "fantasy" than just the sword-swinging type. I've been reading a lot of Scooby Apocalypse lately (more on that later), and awesome fantasy that it is, there's nary a sword to be seen. But what I'm most interested in, gaming-wise (which is kind of the point of this post...and this blog) is the sword-swinging brand of fantasy...and you just don't see all that much of that kind of thing without some sort of pointy eared, elfin-types running around.

[yes, Shadowrun has swords, too...magic swords even]

I guess I'm just wondering this morning (as I scratch around for something to write about besides tieflings...again), does the inclusion of Tolkien elements automatically make something "knockoff fantasy?" If it's a game that includes these elements is it basically just a re-imagined form of D&D (and thus, a form of fantasy heartbreaker)? And does it matter? Should it matter?

Maybe it doesn't; maybe there are more important things to be concerned about. I was wandering around the internet today (looking for ANY kind of Talislanta stuff), and I accidentally fell down the "Alt-Right rabbit hole" of blogging, SciFi, and gaming. Wow, just...wow. So much fucking awful. I'd rather spend any amount of time with tiefling/dragonborn-loving players then spend an hour in a room with those folks. Box of stupid indeed! I know atheists who are doing God's will on this planet better than these "Christians" (making a kinder, gentler, more compassionate world). What a pile of anger and hatred...a steaming, stinking pile.  Fuck...that...noise.

*ahem*

ANYhoo, my daughter has a playdate with her friend today (the daughter of my son's First Communion teacher), so I've got some vacuuming and straightening up to do; their plan is to play "pirates" ...we don't have any Barbie stuff in my house...and I need to make sure they've got all their cutlasses and costumes ready to go. I'll try to write something more useful later today, though I can't guarantee it won't be about tieflings.
; )

Show and Tell

A couple days ago, Timothy Brannan commented on my "Bubble" post. Part of what he wrote included the following:

Moldvay, Holmes and Mentzer Basics were all a product of their times. That is getting people (often read as "kids") to learn how to play. As someone who has been developing college curriculums for 20+ years I can tell you kids and young adults don't go to books to learn how to do something, they want a video or podcast (but mostly a video) and that's where they go first. If I were writing a course on how to learn D&D I'd first look at my video budget. BTW this is not a value judgement on learning, it is a different modality. I used to work with severe Learning Disability students back in the 80s that used similar modalities because they could not process information via text and they did fine this way. I know people that swear by audiobooks too and others that hate them. (I have spent much of my academic and professional career on these exact issues.)

...which I find interesting and worthy of exploration.

My son is young (he turns eight this week), but he already exhibits a lot of his father's love of gaming (duh, of course). He enjoys card games (rummy 500 is his current favorite, but he plays cribbage, poker, and a few others, including Uno, Pokemon, and Magic: the Gathering). He loves Blood Bowl (we had a BB "World Cup" tournament over the summer that was pretty epic). He just acquired Axis & Allies & Zombies for Christmas (it was the top of his Santa list). And he's been playing my old games of Dark Tower and Dungeon! since he was three and four, respectively.

[he is also interested in designing his own games, as I've blogged on a couple-three occasions]

As I write this, in the early morning hours while the rest of my family sleeps, I can see from my vantage point two board games (AA&Z and Camel Up!), completely set-up, on two different tables, where he was tinkering with both (a third table holds a recently used Yahtzee and a cribbage board, though my four-year old daughter was the one messing with the latter), and I know there's a new Star Wars Monopoly floating around somewhere (acquired from los Reyes Magos).

As far as I know, he's never read a single instruction book or manual.

In fact, while he opened the new Axis & Allies (and Zombies) himself, and set it up in its entirety, he has all but refused to read the manual, other than the parts on set-up and disposition of forces. He wants me to read the instructions and teach him how to play. And lest you think he will eventually get restless waiting on me and buckle down and read the instructions himself, I would draw your attention to the fact that he's owned Arena of the Planeswalkers since last Christmas, and has never gotten around to playing it, because no one in the house has read the instructions.

[he has used AotPW and its neat minis for other purposes, however...he's just never played the game as intended]

Now this is a child who enjoys reading...he's read the first three or four Harry Potter books, half a dozen of those Wimpy Kid books, and more than double that number of Nancy Drew mysteries (the original ones, written in the 1930s)...he's currently on the Ski Jump Mystery. And that's when he's not reading non-fiction history books, which he really loves...especially anything about World War II or ancient Egypt. He's read a lot of the Magic Treehouse books, but he prefers the dry, "Fact Finder" series that provide the historical foundation for the time travel adventures. The kid even read (an abridged) Moby Dick over a four hour road trip...that was last April; I haven't even read Melville!

But, of course, there's a difference between reading a book and a manual. A book's sole purpose is to entertain and/or inform. A manual's job is (or should be) to instruct, for the purpose of understanding how to do something...like operate a blender or maintain your car or play a board game. Some people really dig on manuals (my wife is one, and she's not a huge reader). Most of us, though, prefer only to use them minimally...as a reference when actually needed. After all, manuals are merely a means to an end, whatever that end might be (working the blender, changing the car oil, playing the game).

In asking my son how he'd like to learn a new game, his clear preference was to have me read the manual and then teach him. His second preference? Have mom read the manual and teach him. Asked if he'd rather watch a video instead of reading the instructions himself, he said "sure"...if his parents weren't available and a video was (my child isn't given ready access to the internet). Reading instruction manuals is just "really boring."

And when I really think about it, it's hard for me to find a lot of disagreement in my heart. Reading manuals are one of my least favorite methods of learning anything, even ones that include photos or illustrated examples. Even videos are a poor substitute for teaching...you can't ask questions of a video, nor ask for additional clarification when required.

I have this story in my head about role-playing games, about learning to play them from reading them, because I've read and learned so many over the years...all the way back to B/X Dungeons & Dragons (which I taught myself to play). But this hasn't been the way I've learned most of the games I know. All the card games I know how to play have been learned the same way as my boy: I've been taught them by other people. Even Magic cards (which were showed to me by a roommate back in 1999). But most of the "standard" card games I know were taught to me by my grandmother in Montana (they play a lot of card games in Montana over the long winter months): everything from rummy and hearts to cribbage and pinochle. I asked my mom to buy me Dungeon! when I was eight years old, and I'm pretty sure it was she that first read the instructions and taught me to play...as she taught me to play Scrabble, Clue, Monopoly, and (presumably) Candy Land.  I taught myself Risk, but I'd seen it played before by my teenage uncles and their friends (again, in Montana). My father taught me chess.

Even recently (three or four months back), I purchased the deck-building game Ivion only after I was taught the game in a demo with the husband of the game's designer. I know deck-building games are a "thing," but till Ivion I'd never figured out how to play any of them. I even purchased a Blood Bowl-themed deck-builder about five years ago (based on great reviews) that sits on my shelf to this day.

Of course, it's not just games I've learned from other people. Every job I've had has required on-the-job training. Sure Burger King showed me a couple 30-minute videos during my first day of orientation (as a 14 year old), but an experienced person walked me through all the ins and outs of the kitchen (and only allowed me to make the most basic of sandwiches till I'd mastered that). The 15 year career I quit to move to Paraguay required four weeks of training in Olympia before I even got a desk in the (Seattle) office, and then 11 more months of a probationary period where I was assigned a dedicated trainer who audited every single action I took for my first six months.

And around the house, I am hesitant to start ANY home improvement project unless I've done it before or consulted with someone more knowledgable than myself (like a contractor buddy or my mom's 65-year old boyfriend who's a retired Boeing engineer and ex-military). I am more likely to pay someone to do the work, not because I have money to burn (I really don't) but because I don't trust myself not to screw things up without at least some solid instruction.

[though I should say I have been much better in recent years in taking the initiative in home projects...but that wasn't the case for the first four decades of my life]

Learning from others...at least learning the basics...is the way most of us feel more comfortable learning. Probably it's a cultural thing (schools and stuff) but regardless of whether we learn best by seeing, hearing, or doing all of us want someone to teach us the various skills we want to learn. Once we've acquired knowledge of the basics, THEN we can refine our knowledge through our own exploration or experience with the subject matter (or seek coaching for more speedy or targeted improvement). But the more complex the skill we're attempting to learn...and the more consequence to failure...the more we desire the help of a teacher.

Now, of course, I have taken the time to read game manuals...many, in fact. However, in all the cases where I have "self-taught" myself something I believe there are caveats that can be attached as to why this occurred.

• In the case of some games (Axis & Allies, Camel Up!, Battleship Galaxies, Pokemon, Go Go Gelato, Lost Cities, etc.) there was a case of my children begging me to read an instruction manual in order to teach them, so that we could play a particular game. My kids have been my biggest impetus to learning new games over the last three-four years.
• In the case of some games (Firefly, Nautilus, Dragonriders of Pern), the theme or setting of the game was one I had particular interest in AND there was a significant (or possible) method of "solo play" included with the game. I have acquired other games with themes/settings that have special appeal for me (The Dark Crystal, The Call of Cthulhu Card Game, Bang!, Arctic Scavengers) that I've never bothered to learn as I have no one with whom to play.
• Some games, almost all RPGs, I've acquired for reasons of nostalgia, intriguing theme, or specific "design purposes" (i.e. to examine them for how they designed their various systems and incorporated them in the game). However, while I've "read" the manuals for most of these, I can't say that I've learned how to play them. In fact, if you asked me point blank to run most of these (including Everway, Dragonraid, Hero Wars, Privateers and Gentlemen, Blood Red Sands, or the newest Star Wars line from FFG), I would need a substantial amount of "refresher time" (probably a week or more) to re-read and absorb the material before we could have anything like a first session.
• Other games have been much more easily digested (and thus remembered/retained) because their basic "chassis" are so closely akin to another game I'm already familiar with...like, for example, Dungeons & Dragons.

Yes, Dungeons & Dragons, the game on which I base the lie that "all you need to learn a game is a good instruction manual" because, of course, I was able to learn how to play D&D without the aid of anyone teaching me. This, by the way, is absolutely true: I received my copy of the game, I read it, I introduced my friends to it, taught them (to the point that some of them would later run the game as DMs themselves, for other friends), and never looked back. Having said that...

1. The edition I first acquired was the Tom Moldvay basic set, perhaps the single greatest edition for learning the basics of "dungeons" and "dragons" ever published. Complete with multiple page-long examples of character creation, running encounters, creating adventures, and running players through the game. The included The Keep on the Borderlands adventure module also provided great notes from Gygax and examples of home bases, wilderness areas, and dungeons...and tying them all together.
2. The basic premise of basic D&D isn't all that far removed from the Dungeon! board game which, as I noted above, I had already acquired and learned (through my mother) prior to picking up my first box of Moldvay. Just the concept of a multi-level dungeon (filled with monsters, traps, and treasure) gave me a leg up on understanding the game's premise.

I probably can't overstate how much Moldvay's examples of play helped me. I read and re-read these examples many times, even after playing the game the first time. The encounter example (page B28) shows how to use the reaction table, how spells work (in and out of combat), how to conduct missile and melee combat, and how players interact with the DM and each other based on alignment (not to mention basic kibitzing during a game). The "sample dungeon expedition" (page B59 to B60) shows how the DM presents information to the players, how to clarify that information, how to present traps, how to describe features of the adventure site, how to award treasure, how to deal with character death (it happens), and how to manage a group of players...at least, a group all bent on the same objective of play. From these examples, I could look at my own DMing (at a young age) and at least get some idea of whether or not my game looked at all like the one Moldvay was playing. Everything else I learned later (adding the "Advanced" texts to our game) was built off this foundation.

If I had come to the game through some other gateway (especially the original version of the game or first edition AD&D) I can understand how a teacher would have been pretty much essential, just to prevent frustration with trying to understand the instructional text of the game. Hell, I'd be hard pressed NOW to try to parse out the D&D "instruction manual" as it is today, without my basic foundation (I've blogged before how I've literally fallen asleep every time I've attempted to read through 4th edition Champions). I can definitely see that, lacking a foundation and any teacher or mentor, I too would be left with little alternative besides combing the interwebs for some video to show exactly how I'm supposed to play this game...

I feel I've been something less than charitable to folks who "don't like to read the instructions" (even my own boy!) or who prefer watching a video to reading a manual. Instruction manuals aren't terribly fun (usually) and even when they are written in a "fun" way, it's usually somewhat less fun than the fun anticipated from the end for which they've been written (for example, playing the game the manual explains). Dungeons & Dragons especially is a hard game to learn, regardless of edition. I was simply fortunate that my introduction to the game was written for persons "Ages 10 and Up" (yes, I was reading above my age level back in 1982), and that it was written in such a particular, precise yet streamlined manner...even including a page count (64 minus illustrations, tables, and example text) that wouldn't bore the shit out of my young mind. Something to think about with regard to my own game design going forward.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a manual to read about World War II zombie invasions...

Probably everyone loses...