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.

: )

Killing Gods, Part 3

All right, let's get this finished up...I've got other things to blog about: secret D&D languages, the uses of audible glammer, maybe even a run at "reviewing" Ravenloft (that was a pseudo-request). Buckle up, folks...this entry might be a looong one.

; )

When it comes to the Advanced Dungeons & Dragons game, there are two inspiring sages that act as my guiding lights, two pole stars by which I steer my ship. They are Alexis Smolensk and Anthony Huso. There are other blogs that I read (and podcasters I listen to), but in the main, these two are the only external forces shaping my outlook on the game. If I had to name one more, Gary Gygax would, I suppose come in a distant third place. 

[does it seem strange to folks that Gygax isn't the brightest star in my AD&D firmament, despite being responsible for the game's existence? There is some precedent. I have it from strong authorities that Jesus is only the third-most important figure in shaping the Roman Catholic Church; the main individuals responsible for our religion (and, thus, all other Christian denominations descended from the western Church) are St. Paul (not even one of the Twelve!) and Thomas Aquinas]

Anyway, don't shake your head at me, Dear Reader; I have my reasons.

Longtime readers of my blog are surely well-acquainted with Alexis, I've mentioned the guy often enough. Huso, on the other hand, has a small enough presence on the internet (his web site has only been around since 2018) that while I'm certain I've mentioned him, he may have well fallen through the cracks of people's perceptions. He is an AD&D aficionado of the deepest stripe, and his blog deals at great length and fair eloquence with that specific rule set, the edition of D&D he's been running for his table since 2014 when he chucked his Pathfinder game for good. It is excellent reading.

However, that's not the reason I mention the man. In my last post on the subject of killing gods, I cited several published adventures of recent years that involved physical confrontations with gods, godlike beings, and pseudo-godlings, all of which were aimed at the low level adventuring party. I explained that I don't find these particularly reasonable, given the parameters of the D&D game as designed. My feeling is that D&D provides at least some guidelines (based in both instructional text and example adventure modules of the earliest origin) for how one ought to proceed with such scenarios and, baby, these ain't it. For me, it's a grating trend and, perhaps, even a disturbing one...there seems to be an aversion to high level D&D play while (at the same time) a longing for high stakes, epic adventure of the type that rightly belongs in the realm of high level characters.

Mr. Huso doesn't share this aversion (he's blogged his thoughts on high level campaign play...more than once) and has demonstrated how one might actually write a "god-killing adventure" with an absolutely exquisite book, a masterwork entitled Dream House of the Nether Prince. It is a lavish piece of art, as well as a fiendish, evocative adventure. It is, as far as I can determine, the single best gaming product I've purchased NEW for D&D since the reissue of the AD&D manuals a few years back. It may be the coolest pre-written adventure I've purchased since the 1980s. Certainly the best since Bruce Cordell's Return to White Plume Mountain (that was published in 1999), making it my favorite for at least the last 20 years.  

Yet I can't...well, I won't...review the thing. Because I haven't played it...I haven't experienced it. I can review a movie or a piece of music, but I can't give a true review of an adventure that I haven't run, because until I do run it, I can't say for certain if it's excellent or horrible or lost in translation from text to table. And there's just no way for me to run the thing at this point.

Huso's Dream House wasn't written for me...or (probably) for you, either. He wrote it for his own players, as a capstone adventure to finish seven years of AD&D play. It is a suitably epic dungeon, a mission to a massive fortress located in the Abyss, a refuge and "vacation palace" for Orcus, demon prince of the undead. The adversaries present in the adventure are truly staggering. The treasure to be looted is absolutely mind-blowing. The final confrontation might see PCs battling Orcus or Demogorgon or (perhaps) both. It is beautiful to behold. It is a pleasure to read (if, like me, you're "into demons"). It is suggested that no less than six characters of 14th level even attempt the adventure; Anthony's seven player group brought a party of ten, and many of them died, some in very permanent ways...you can read a summary of their venture on his blog.

It is an excellent example of what is possible with the D&D rules. A 135 page tour-de-force that puts H4: The Throne of Bloodstone (it's closest comparison) to shame. I really, really mean that. Dream House is a masterpiece created more-or-less by a single person, and it makes the entire Bloodstone line of TSR look paltry and hackish by comparison. The difference, however, is understandable when one considers Huso's book to be something lovingly created for his own group of players, not something churned out for the masses at a time when the company was just trying to stay afloat business-wise. I suspect a lot of people will balk at spending $50 (the price of its POD hardcover) for a niche product of a niche hobby, especially given its limited use in many (most?) campaigns.

Why limited? Because, despite a lot of excellent info on demons and a lot of new/unique monsters and treasures, the adventure is written for the type of adventuring group that most DMs simply don't have. There are no pre-generated characters included with the thing, and I can see why: because just handing someone a character sheet with a 15th level paladin or wizard won't make the player a savvy veteran of the kind needed to navigate this level of challenge. A group with years of experience working together in cooperation would find it a rough go of it...but then, they ARE tackling a unique demonic god in its lair. Such scenarios should be limited, niche, and incredibly difficult. 

Gygax was the first person to put encounters with gods into published adventures: the Elder Elemental (in G1 and G3), Blibdoolpoolp (in D2), and Lolth (in D3). There are two things that all these have in common:

1. These encounters are all potential in nature; none of these encounters with godlings are mandated, and all may be avoided. 
2. The adventures in which they are found are the pinnacle of what I call "hard core" Dungeons & Dragons. The novice ("N") series are clearly for beginning players. The intermediate ("I") series are fine for any group already versed in the game (i.e. players that know how to play and cooperate). The special ("S") series are random, rule breaking adventures, that provide enough weirdness to stymie experienced players or give novices a "puncher's chance." But the six modules that make up the G-D series are absolutely punishing adventures, any one of which will TPK a party that fails to operate at a high level of strategic play. 

And I find it fascinating how those godling encounters "ramp up" over the course of the series. In the G modules, the most a party might expect to encounter is an eye or tentacle that will drive a PC insane or drag them screaming to oblivion. In D2, a PC might actually encounter the goddess (on her own home turf) and might be able to treat with or bargain. In D3, the party has a chance to confront a goddess on their own plane, with the potential for actual combat and the possible destruction of her avatar. This is no naga masquerading as a god (as in N1: Against the Cult of the Reptile God)...Lolth is the real deal. 

These scenarios work within the parameters and expectations of D&D play. A party of mid-level adventurers...and to me, 8th to 10th is still only (high) "mid-level"...should not be confronting creatures of godlike power. The encounters in G3 and D2 are more in line with "traps:" really rough traps that are best avoided.  Only in D3 (an adventure for characters of level 10-14) should a confrontation with a demon queen be possible, and only in the most limited of circumstances: outside her home plane, away from the bulk of her power base. Again, Lolth is not the point of the module; exploring the Vault and dealing with the threat of the Eilservs clan is. The goddess might even be a potential ally given the transgressions of Eclavdra and her ilk, though this is not an explicit suggestion of the module.

But again, it is in adventures like these that we see the power and majesty of the D&D game. In the first part of this series I wrote how, of all the sword & sorcery fantasy that influenced D&D, only Leiber and Moorcock display their protagonists in actual interaction with divinities. PCs allying themselves with Lolth, bargaining for leniency from Blibdoolpoolp, or being used as pawns by Orcus (in Huso's book) all exemplify scenes one reads in those S&S fantasies...and while a divinity being willing to treat with mortals speaks to the fallibility (and vulnerability) of the divinity in question, it is really only those characters with world-shaking power (like Elric) who have the capability to bring actual destruction to such entities.

And this is of particular importance to the default setting of Dungeons & Dragons, because under the terms of the game, these are no "false gods." These demon queens and princes are gods that are worshipped, that are followed by devout clerics, and to whom they may bestow spells. And yet they are not safe from destruction! Player characters thus have the power to alter the cosmology of the campaign  setting and impact the reality of the game world in drastic ways. What happens to the Drow clerics of Lolth if Lolth is destroyed on her home plane? Do they cease to be a threat altogether? Doubtful, but her death (if achieved) will surely change Drow culture at a fundamental level.

That's the opposite of de-protagonizing players. 

And that, perhaps, is what I find lacking about some of these other OSR offerings that involve encounters with deities, quasi- or otherwise. There's a certain sort of "enforced smallness" that comes along with placing PCs in situations in which they are absolutely, hopelessly outclassed by a power beyond mortal comprehension. It should be hard for the PCs to even encounter such a being. Barring a long and arduous journey through miles of hostile environment and unnumbered foes to the god's most sacred (and well-guarded) temple, nothing short of a complicated ritual/sacrifice should allow access to such a being on the Prime Material Plane. And as bodily travel to the outer planes is generally outside the reach of low-mid level characters, such encounters should be an extremely rare and wondrous thing...if possible at all.

Okay...perhaps one more post on the subject (to conclude) is needed.

Killing Gods, Part 1

The other day, in the comments on my Whimsy Addendum, I decried a trend I've seen in a lot of adventure material recently, which is: players encountering (and fighting with) "gods." Part of my annoyance has been with regard to overuse of the scenario (welp, here's another adventure where the main antagonist is a fallen deity...) and part of it has stemmed from the execution: how such encounters are portrayed and used in these adventures. 

And the good Prince of Nothing took umbrage and issued me a challenge, writing:

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.

Wait...what? This is on me?

Set aside from the moment any notion of me doing the OSR "favors" (ridiculous to think they'd take any advice from me, even if I wanted to give it!)...what the hell qualifies me as the authority and resource for this particular subject? I'm just a blogger that runs his mouth...er, keypad...a bit too much with long-winded meanderings. 

On the other hand, I have fought a god or two.

*sigh* Challenge accepted. 

I'd like to first start out with a discussion of the inspiration behind this particular idea, this claim that it is O So Very Sword & Sorcery for grungy, pulp heroes to be going toe-to-toe with gods and godlings. So let's crack out our fantasy literature and take a look. Never mind that these are stories, not games...we understand that these stories are the impetus and foundational pieces for Dungeons & Dragons play. And it's always useful to have a firm handle on one's source material.

First up, everyone's favorite barbarian: Conan. One gets the impression that the gods of Howard's Hyborian age are fairly mortal (much like the Norse gods)...if Conan stuck Crom with 3' of  good, Hyrkanian steel, he'd probably die. However, we never encounter Crom in Howard's stories, perhaps because Crom is an actual deity. Conan kills some godlike frost giants, an ancient "god in a bowl" (appears to be a naga, much like the one in module N1), and an alien time-traveller that resembles a small elephant. These aren't gods: they're monsters. In the bluntest of D&D terms, they are meant to be slain and looted. 

Elric gets prepared to
throw down with the
god of lizards.

Next up, we'll look at Moorcock's albino sorcerer, Elric. He fights all sorts of gods. The "Burning God." Balo the Jester of Chaos. In the end, he is responsible for the death of ALL the chaos lords (gods) including his own patron, Arioch. Except that, actually, he's not doing the killing. It's his Most-Powerful-Artifact-Weapon-In-The-Multiverse (Stormbringer) that is doing the actual soul-sucking, not Elric. In the final battle he does a one-shot spell that summons a multitude of Stormbringers (Stormbringer has siblings), and they fly around killing all the gods. Stormbringer, as an artifact, was forged to slay gods (and to "keep in check" higher powers). It's a plot point of the books. Do your D&D characters carry such an artifact weapon? 

Okay, Fafhrd and Gray Mouser. Haven't read as much of them as I'd have liked, but I can't remember them KILLING any gods. Running afoul of them, getting mixed up with them, fleeing their wrath or being cursed by them...sure, all that. But mortal combat (i.e. the hit point draining kind)? No, I don't think so.

Karl Wagner's Kane...well, I've only had the chance to read Bloodstone, and it's been a while. If memory serves, Kane "kills" a super computer masquerading as a deity. Machines break...they are mundane/mortal, not supernatural. Maybe. I get a little depressed thinking about Wagner; he died so young (age 48, alcoholism). 

I don't remember any hero versus god action in Clark Ashton Smith, but I probably haven't read enough of him. I have C.L. Moore's Jirel of Joiry ordered from Amazon, so apologies if she kills a bunch of godlings and I failed to mention it...haven't yet had the chance to read her stories.

H.P. Lovecraft isn't really an S&S writer, but there's no denying his writing's had an impact on D&D and many OSR offerings. Lots of extreme, alien gods walking amongst men in HPL's stuff. But people don't fight them. They get killed and eaten by them, or possessed, or driven insane. It's not really mano-a-mano. Well, except for a certain Norwegian sailor, who's ship-to-kaiju combat was absolutely NOT stolen by Disney for the climactic battle in The Little Mermaid against the giant octopoid entity. Nope, no way...that scene is straight out of Hans Christian Andersen. Regardless, it's one exception to a multitude of non-combats.

How about non-S&S literature...say, Tolkien's Sauron and all his knockoffs (Donaldson's "Lord Foul," whatever the hell Terry Brooks and Robert Jordan use, etc.). They're "gods" right? And the good guys fight and defeat them?

Well, no. At least in Lord of the Rings, Sauron is never confronted directly, and he's not killed so much as "dispersed" by the Ring's destruction. But perhaps he could have been, when he was mortal. Morgoth was wounded by Feanor with a mortal weapon, after all (elf weapons in Tolkien aren't, strictly speaking, "magical" but, rather, gear of exceptional craft). If he could wound Satan with nothing more than courage and a well-made blade what could the elf lord have done with a typical D&D magic weapon...something invested with supernatural power by a wizard?

Pullman's His Dark Materials (in which a couple kids kill old man God) hardly bears mentioning; not really the same genre. Neither is Piers Anthony's "Immortal Incarnate" series. Dragonlance I'll discuss when I talk about god-fighting in gaming proper. Probably I'm leaving out some (or a lot) of stuff, but I just don't read much fantasy anymore. And, anyway, one would think that "Awesome Confrontations Between Man and Godlike Being" would kind of stand out in Ye Old Memory. I used to read a lot of fantasy, and there ain't much popping up there.

SO...from whence this desire (in D&D) to fight/kill gods?

Just what are these "gods" in fantasy literature? I mean there's GOD, of course (omnipotent, omniscient, unknowable, and unavailable...more a force/influence than a being). Then there are 'the gods,' like the Greek/Norse pantheons (or Babylonian...currently reading Ship of Ishtar)...entities that are uber-powerful, live in a different realm, but have feelings/needs/thoughts that are recognizable by humans. There are supernatural entities from other dimensions/planets (Cthulhu, strange "intelligences," etc.). And then there are mortal beings of immense power that are worshipped as gods, but don't necessarily grant any special favors or divine influence...they simply inspire awe/reverence in lesser mortals (though the same could be said...on a grander scale...of ALL the various "god types" listed).

Different fantasy writers have tackled divinities in different ways (duh, JB) but, perhaps surprisingly, I feel a lot of authors take the approach of their being but one GOD (in the monotheist sense), perhaps with various demons and pretenders, but those certainly aren't necessary (Poul Anderson's Three Hearts, Three Lions is S&S and doesn't require any such entities). Certainly Tolkien is all Christian analogue with fallen angels and whatnot, but Howard's, too, stuff has a mostly Christian (i.e. monotheistic) vibe to it. Even his Conan stuff...while I joked before that Crom was probably mortal enough for Conan to slay, the fact is Crom never actually appears (and neither does Set or Mitra, etc.), nor do those gods grant any sort of "divine powers" to their devotees. Either they are false gods (as would be the typical monotheistic point of view) and their priests simply sorcerers, magicians, and charlatans OR they are just names/aspects of the One True God who (generally) stays out of mortal affairs, allowing folks to exercise free will.

And it makes sense that these writers would take this tack: American pulp writers of the early 20th century were, of course, individuals steeped in Western (generally monotheistic) cultures. They're just writing a fantastical version of the world they grew up in, some with reverence though plenty without.

[writers that leave out questions of divinity from their fantasy work at all...like Vance and Zelazny...I chalk up in the same monotheistic category...the lack of a demiurge points to/emphasizes its existence. Regardless, no one is fighting gods in those books]

There ARE outliers, however, and three of them have had an immense impact on the Dungeons & Dragons game: Fritz Leiber, Michael Moorcock, and Howard P. Lovecraft. Leiber's world of Nehwon is filled with gods of the "pantheon" variety; so is Moorcock's Young Kingdoms (although antihero Elric is always searching for a Grand Designer behind it all). HPL, of course, gives us all his crazy-ass Star Children from the far reaches of space. Of these three authors, I'd judge Leiber and Moorcock to have had the greatest impact on the game as far as "cosmology" is concerned. That being said, I think in all three authors' cases a major takeaway from their stories is: the gods are NOT to be futzed around with.

You don't fight them. You're not going to kill them. You certainly don't loot their bodies.

All of which runs quite counter to D&D's credo.

But I'll be talking about that in my follow-up post, which will be specifically focused on god-fighting in D&D.

: )

Making Clerics Work

The last couple days have been "Snowmageddon" up here in Seattle. Not really an issue (I've got four wheel drive these days, even if I wanted to go somewhere...and who needs to when the supermarket is across the street from my house?), but my kids have been out of school. Which is fun but means I've been "on duty" for four straight days without a break.

I hate this. I hate resenting my family, who I love. But my wife gets home from work and she wants my attention even (or especially) after the kids have gone to bed. Damn it, I need some time to myself! And sleep...some time.

*sigh*

Mainly, I just want to get back to my writing. Been working on putting Cry Dark Future together. It's been slow going, but it IS coming together...finally. Was working on it last week (till Thursday...Fridays are the wife's day off and, as said, she wants/needs some attention). Now, well, hopefully I'll have a couple hours tomorrow....literally. As of now, I know the school's going to be two hours late, which means I'll have from 10:30 till 12:30 to write before my preschooler needs to be picked up.

ANYWAY...while staying up too late last night (folding laundry), I got the chance to listen to Delta's most recent "livecast" video with the Wandering DM. I found myself (in my usual fugue state), nodding along with their ideas of chopping the cleric class from their D&D game, quickly eliminating (in true Gordian Knot fashion) all the multitude of issues associated with the class.

[if you're...at this moment...saying, "what issues?" then you might want to go check out the video. They do a good job explaining]

[jeez...while I'm taking a few minutes to type this up, my wife is in the other room watching CNN with the children, explaining what the State of the Union address is. My kids are eight and four. We are such crazy parents]

Anyway (did I already say that?)...as I was trying to drift off to sleep, sometime after midnight, I found myself thinking of all the ways to answer those clerical "problems" without cutting the class from the game. Despite the spinning wheels preventing my rest, I have to say I really appreciated my brain's efforts because I LIKE having clerics in my games (for lots of reasons), and I think it's easier to make minor tweaks that deal with the problematic aspects than defaulting to a "nuclear option."

And because I've been neglecting

[...whoops! Duty calls!]

[many hours later]

...because I've been neglecting my blog readers, I figured I'd share some of MY answers to the problematic parts of clerics.

Wizard or Evil High Priest
(or both)?

1) Sword & Sorcery world VS. Catholic Crusaders: this is an old complaint. D&D is an adventure game largely inspired by fiction based on the pre- (or non-) Christian worlds of Howard, Leiber, etc. yet features a class whose abilities are based off Christian scripture and (Christian) horror fiction. How do you reconcile a monotheistic theology in a polytheistic cosmology? The short answer is: you don't. Keep your Christian pantheon (or fantasy/fictional equivalent) and spurn the other pantheons (whether demonic, Norse, Mesoamerican, or whatever) completely. All "true" clerics worship (and gain spells/abilities) from the "one, true God" though different sects/religions might call that deity by different names (Allah, Yahweh, Jehovah, etc.). Priests of "false gods" belong to other classes (magic-users or fighters most likely, depending on the emphasis of their training)...or are simply clerics that lack spell-casting ability.  In a world like Lankhmar or Aspirin's Thieves World where filthy, crowded cities have whole districts of temples and shrines, you (the DM) will need to determine which ones belong to a "true faith," which ones are demon-worshipping sorcerers, and which are simple hucksters of false gods. They don't all have to be "clerics."

2) Clerics ever-expanding spell list: another old complaint...every time a new clerical spell gets added, all clerics become more powerful (because clerics have access to every spell, unlike wizards). The easiest fix is to treat clerical magic as spells: each spell is a prayer that must be learned just like a wizard's spell formula, limiting clerics to a finite number of spells. This allows clerical spell research (not to mention clerical spell scrolls) to make sense. "But if cleric magic is just another type of spell, why are the spell lists different from a magic-user's?" For the same reason illusionists have a different list...or druids. They are simply different types of magic.

3) The importance of healing (and clerics' healing ability) forcing the class into the role of "medic": I have to say Delta's idea of simply populating his campaign with easily found healing potions really bugs me. First off, OD&D specifically limited spell use to one use of each spell per day (page 19 of Men & Magic), so for folks basing their game on the LBBs, there should be no issue with "lack of variety" of cleric magic (you can't use cure light wounds more than once per day anyway). Another idea I've used before (in Five Ancient Kingdoms) was to limit clerical healing to adventures only: as God-granted miracles, healing magic (or any type of clerical spells) are unavailable between adventures (i.e. "back in town"), instead only being granted when out on an expedition. Clerical magic is a plea of desperation for divine intercession when facing incredible danger...not some trip to the fantasy spa for a little R&R. Make characters heal the "old fashion way" (bed rest and chicken soup) once they've left the dungeon.

4) "Weaponized" clerical magic: have to say I agree that I hate the idea of using clerical spells like light and silence in an offensive capacity (to blind an opponent or neutralize spell-casters); even B/X does this, which just isn't right (permanently blind someone with a targeted continual light? This should be the purview of the curse spell). The easiest fix here is (again) to go back to OD&D where there are no such use of these helpful spells (neither light nor continual light allowed targeting of opponents' eyes, and silence 15' radius was used to "move with no sound" or to silence "an object or thing" not an enemy spell-caster...see Greyhawk, page 30).

5) Providing parties with a "too easy" method of neutralizing undead: this is only an issue if you allow multiple turning attempts against the same opponent in a single encounter (I don't) and/or you're using undead in singular numbers like some cinematic horror antagonist. Mummies (as tomb guardians) should be buried in numbers, vampires should have their "spawn" with them (brides of Dracula?), and Ring-Wraiths (i.e. "specters") always travel in packs. Against multiples of undead a cleric is going to have a much lesser effect, given that no more than one 7 HD vampire can ever be turned/destroyed, even by a cleric of level 11+ (since a successful result only affects 2d6 hit dice of undead).

Drac and "Friends"

Oh, wait...I see this is a case where B/X is actually more limiting than OD&D (in OD&D clerical turning affects a number of undead equal to 2d6). Okay, so the fix here is use the B/X system instead of OD&D...and then make sure your undead are found in numbers greater than one. At least, the undead that you don't want to see turned/destroyed. One of the methods a B/X party has to overcome monsters is breaking their morale; the undead's fearlessness in this regard (which makes them even more dangerous than their special abilities) is offset by the cleric's ability to drive them away. I don't particularly mind that myself.

[okay, I ended up writing most of this post Wednesday morning. Sorry for the delay]

Delving 4E (Part 3)

My plan is to post my thoughts on the classes and powers in the 4E PHB (I've got a copy of the PHB2 as well but...well, we'll see if I get to it), specifically what I like. As I wrote in my last post, this isn't about lauding 4E as its own game, nor about bashing it for "how it ain't D&D." This is more about what I find interesting, neat, or intriguing as a design choice and possible addition to an actual (D&D) RPG.

Oh, yeah...since this is an attempt to stay positive, I will stay away from the subject of how 4E handles the races in D&D, except to say that I dislike them immensely. Sorry. My distaste is such it might even stop me from playing in a 4E game, knowing I'd probably be adventuring alongside "dragonborn" and "tieflings."

But here's what I like:

With a couple exceptions, I like all classes and "builds" presented in the PHB, at least conceptually, if not their actual execution; this includes the two new classes, warlocks and warlords (more on these in a moment). The ones I don't like (for the curious) are the ranger and paladin, especially the former. In fact, may I just say for the record that I haven't seen a ranger class that I've liked as a whole since (probably) 1st Edition. And let me further add that when I played a ranger character in 1st edition he did wield two weapons (using the rule in the 1E DMG) and you'd think I'd be ecstatic over the class's morphing into a dual-fisted expert over the years. No. Zero (as my four year old would say).

For those who don't know, "builds" are diverging specializations classes are required to take (do you want to be a "battle cleric" or a "devoted cleric," for example). I was actually working with a similar concept in one of my recent (now scratched) heartbreaker designs, so I'm somewhat partial to the idea. However, my motives were different: I provided specializations to help distinguish otherwise simple (B/Xish) classes from their like adventurers and give them a little extra "zing"...like the fighter who specialized in archery (and thus got an extra bonus with a bow). Builds in 4E seem bent on limiting choices. Well, that's a little harsh...most powers of a class are open to any member of the class, regardless of build. But builds do appear to provide some direction when it comes to choosing one's powers, as well as a clear road to "optimization"...which I hate.

[4E's design choice in this regard seems a direct descendent of World of Warcraft's talent trees, though again it's not nearly as restrictive (which is a good thing)]

However, it doesn't HAVE to be this way. There's a lot of shit 4E gets wrong, as far as role-playing games go, and the main one is its emphasis on combat encounters. Such an emphasis encourages optimization, as good play should (in theory) lead to shorter fights allowing the party to proceed to the next encounter faster in order to fight and continue having "fun." But that's just 4E's game. If you can get past the idea that D&D is just about combat (and structure your power options to be more than just combat options), then builds become a bit less static as characters are concerned with more than just fighting. Maybe.

Anyway, leaving aside (for the moment) the actual powers presented and the gameplay of 4th edition, I find (as said) that I like the majority of these classes and builds as concepts. Let me just run through them quickly:

• The fighter's builds (two-handed weapon or sword-and-board) are simplistic but, hey, he's a fighter. On second pass, a large part of my objection to the ranger is that its builds...the archer and the dual-wielder...are not just BORING, but they should also, IMO, fall under the purview of the fighter, being combat styles. Can't the ranger have, like, a "woodsy/druid" build and a "scouty/guerilla" build?
• For me, the cleric's "battle cleric" versus "devotional/saintlike" build represents a perfect duality, as does the rogue's "brawny" versus "trickster." In fact, the brawny rogue is an excellent example of the Conan as thief archetype found in S&S literature (see also Fafhrd). It is really unfortunate that, even for the "brawny" build, all the rogue attack powers require the use of a "light blade" (dagger, rapier, or short sword) in melee. Poor execution and a missed opportunity (let's make all our thugs fight with the same three weapons)...but I'm digressing.
• The wizard's builds ("war" or "control") are no great shakes, but the concept and direction of the wizard as a whole is pretty cool/interesting...though it needs to sit next to the warlock to really appreciate it.

The warlock is one of the two new classes presented in the 4E PHB, and while initially turned off by the presentation (probably the tiefling illustration) upon reading the entry I was far more impressed. This is the classic sorcerer of fantasy literature (which, BTW, is nothing like 3rd Edition's "sorcerer" class). I suppose they needed a new name because they (WotC) intended to bring back the weak-sauce version in the PHB2 (which they did). A shame. Anyway, the warlock is great and, in addition to its two builds ("deceptive" and "scourge") we get a choice of three pacts (sorcerous bargains with supernatural powers) to color the character: fey, infernal, and star (fairy, hell, and Cthulhu!).

[gosh, I can't believe this was published in 2008 and I never saw it. In retrospect, my books with similar concepts...like the Summoner in TCBXA...look like complete knock-offs. Hell, that Conan post was from 2009, even...]

Positioned in opposition to the sorcerous warlock, the wizard begins to take on the look of the classic enchanters of legend: Merlin, Vainamoinen...heck, even Gandalf (who's basis is in those old fairy tales). The sorcerer curses and hexes and summons, while the enchanter manipulates the environment with magical effect. Very nice bookends of the arcane spectrum...much cooler than simply "this guy reads books and this dude has 'dragon blood' in his veins."

The warlord, despite its stupid illustration (a dwarf? that's the last guy you want to be a warlord, ESPECIALLY if you're trying to optimize! Jeez) was not one I had to steel myself to read. In fact, it was the first class I read, and definitely my favorite concept in the entire book. This is the class I'd be playing if I sat down at a 4E table. But then, I've always played my characters like warlords (whether they be clerics, fighters, or bards): jumping into battle, barking orders, thinking tactically. I told you people I like war-games...there's more than a bit of the "armchair general" in me. This class alone could get me to play at least a few sessions of 4E.

[though never as a dragonborn; human only, please, and "inspiring," not "tactical" build]

A warlord surveys the battlefield.

It's a shame that the warlord's concept is so much a part of the 4E premise...I'm not sure it would work in an old style D&D game where actual maneuver in combat is profoundly de-emphasized. Might as well just use a fighter (or a heavy-hitter cleric if you want to still use the inspirational "buffs" on your party). You don't really need a "combat brain" when all people are doing is rolling a D20 to hit when it's their turn in initiative.

But that's the problem...D&D (at least in the traditional, pre-4E sense) has so many other elements, aspects, and scenarios that don't involve combat. And the power selection for the 4E classes are almost entirely combat related. Of the 17 powers gained during the course of a 30 level career, only 7 are "utility" powers; the rest are straight up attacks. And the majority of "utility" powers are still designed to be used in combat (conferring bonuses, healing party members, etc.), they're just not direct attacks. Even liking these class/build concepts, they'd need a lot of modification to make them less combat-focused.

Which should be a good time to discuss tiers. If I'm remembering correctly (this is many years ago) I already swiped the idea of tiers from 4E back when the book first came out...er, wait, now that I'm thinking about it, maybe not. Um, let me back up...the last version of D20 Star Wars (Saga) was in some ways a precursor to 4E. It was also a direct inspiration (and impetus) for me starting up a B/X version of Star Wars lo those many years ago. One of the things I came up with was the use of "tiers" as an added measure of character power/effectiveness...but I cannot for the life of me remember if I was influenced by the 4E books (something I browsed? something someone told me?) or if it was just a logical step based on my reinterpreting of Saga. Regardless, my tiers work quite differently from 4E (I use them to help compact the range of "levels," getting more bang for one's buck).

However, my point is that I LIKE the idea of "tiers." Now, do I like their implementation in 4E? Mmmm, maybe. They're a little hit-and-miss for me. The wizard and warlock paragon classes are perhaps the most interesting, having strong color/fluff associated with their choices. Many of the others...like the rogue's...simply reinforce class stereotypes, rather than offer truly interesting choices. Many of them (especially those in the PHB2) simply seem to be re-hashings of the 3rd Edition prestige classes, just shave to fit the round hole of 4E. Which is good for some of them (there were a lot of otherwise weird and "semi-useless" prestige class floated out in the days of D20 splat books, and here they become more pertinent), but I'm just not sure I'm totally down with the idea.

Actually, the concept of high level characters becoming paragons, gaining an exponential boost in power over low level heroes, and being required to further specialize IS a concept I can buy into. Again, it's mainly the execution that leaves me a little cold.

Similarly with the epic destinies tier. Here the constraints of the 4E system really start to show themselves...what, no conquerer/king destiny for the warrior class? No founding a religion for clerics? Fourth edition really is about kicking ass from encounter to encounter, not about role-playing or world immersion or whatnot, and the destinies appear designed to fulfill that goal up to 30th level. It's singular destination (immortality) is very reminiscent of the old BECMI quest for immortality, but with fewer (and less interesting) paths, and no real options besides such a quest.

Then again, maybe that's only logical (from an in-game point of view)...anyone who spent so much time getting to the top has got nowhere else to go but ascension, if they're still driven by ambition. At least 4E provides an endgame scenario of sorts. I can't remember if 3E's Epic Level Handbook provided such an outlet for characters...I think they just continued on ad infinitum. It's not bad, it's a nice option. I'd just like more options here.

Mmmm...this is getting long (again). I told you folks I had a lot of thoughts about 4E. And I still haven't written about the non-Vancian take on magic, spell rituals, and the combat system in general. That's all going to have to come in a follow-up post, I'm afraid.

Later.

A Beginning

I'll be quick because...well, it's Football Sunday but I've got a lot to do, including getting a gift and showing up to a kid's birthday party (scheduled for the same time as the Seahawks game? What's that all about?)...plus something about breakfast and naptime and all the usual Sunday rigamarole. Yes, I'm back on "single parent duty," as a week after returning from Montevideo the wife is currently on a plane to NYC. Fortunately (?) the beagles woke us up at 6am or she would have missed her flight.

Play-testing of yet another “fantasy heartbreaker” began on Thursday night. Only had one player show up (thanks, Will!). Materials consisted of two pages of printed notes, a modified Keep on the Borderlands, two copies of Holmes Basic (for equipment lists), a couple D6s, a D20, and a case full of poker chips (because I didn’t have a chance to actually pick up dried beans from the supermarket, which would have been my first choice...have to remember to that this week).

Definitely a different game.

I spent a lot of this last week reading up on a couple recently published games: 13^th Age and Dungeon World. There’s a good couple posts over at The Walking Mind discussing how these games (along with Cook’s Numenera) could act as easy transitional games for folks looking to move from D&D to “something else.” I, of course, have no interest in creating my own “transitional game” but what I’ve read I found interesting enough to at least take a look at these games…maybe I'll pick 'em up sometime this afternoon, if I get a couple more sales of 5AK to justify the purchase.

[ha…who am I kidding? If I can find any free time today, I'll probably be sitting in front of the TV or taking a nap]

Why am I not interested in creating a “transitional game?” Because I’m not really interested in transitioning gamers from one game (or one style or system) to anything else. I’ve made peace with Pathfinder, as I wrote a month or two back. People who love that game can and should continue their enjoyment. MY goal (as much as I have one…the concept is still pretty amorphous in my mind at the moment) is to bring non-gamers into gaming, table-top gaming, in the easiest and most accessible way possible while still:

1. Playing up the strengths of the table-top game over computer games, and
2. Firing the imagination of the participants (can’t be too abstract).

I like the system I’ve created. Despite the misgiving of some of my readers, there didn’t seem to be any issues with the game as a “class-less/skill-less” system.

Will, at least, didn’t have any issue with it…and we discussed (prior to play) how much he dislikes the “blank page of indie games.” Do you know what I mean? Where people are told during chargen: “pick five things your good at” or “assign 10 points between three descriptive phrases (that you make up yourself.” Some people dig the hippy-dippy, loosey-goosey-ness of games like FUDGE and RISUS…others (like Will) prefer a game with a bit more structure to ‘em. Me, too, for that matter…it keeps the game tight and focused, which is a lot easier for a lazy DM like myself.

[there are, of course, plenty of indie games that DON’T confront a player with a blank page, and you’ll find plenty of "structured" games…even “old school” ones…that have blank spots. Villains & Vigilantes have several powers of the “make this up yourself” variety, if I remember correctly]

Having said that, the magic system in the new project is a lot more freeform than what you’d find in any edition of D&D…or its retro-clones, or its pseudo-clones (the latter term being the one I’d apply to Five Ancient Kingdoms). And, of course, Will chose to play a magician of the “black magic” school. Duh…who wouldn’t?

Things ended up with quite the Clark Ashton Smith feel to it. “Nazaloth” showed off his sword skill by killing a pair of bugbears in Ye Old Caves of Chaos and then – after getting as much info as possible out of the corpses using some minor necromancy – decided it'd be a good idea to raise the corpses as large, hairy muscle. Unfortunately, that particular spell went awry and the ghuls, while raised, were much more interested in tearing apart their slayer than in following any orders. This resulted in a chase back to the entrance (where a group of recently freed slaves huddled awaiting their liberator) and tragic hilarity ensued.  Nazaloth eventually got the dead under control and directed their rage on some latecomer bugbears, while he led the surviving refugees down the side of the cliff, using a makeshift rope crafted from the guardsmen’s bedding.

The main system question Will had was regarding the development system...mainly, where was the "carrot" of advancement to drive the characters forward? It wasn't enough to start out as a competent character, there was an interest in becoming "something more,"or developing and changing over time. I have some ideas for this (it's tied to the "bean counting"...natch) but I have to tighten 'em up.

But really, I don't have time for writing about this at the moment. I just wanted to get a quick note our (I've been meaning to do so for the last three days but, you know...busy).

Later, Gators.

Looking at Film

Last night, I spent my evening (after putting Diego to bed) watching the old 1982 film Beastmaster. This was not for fun or entertainment (though I’ve viewed it many times in the past for just that reason), but with a critical eye towards the film as a model of cinematic “swords & sorcery” or “D&Dish fantasy.” Afterwards, I spent the remainder of my evening reading through the novelization of The Sword & The Sorcerer, the other main fantasy opus of 1982.

[no, I spent no time watching Schwarzenegger’s epic first Conan film…I’ve owned that one for years and have pretty much memorized it in its entirety]

Now, I’m the first to admit these are no great cinematic masterpieces in the traditional, Oscar-worthy sense of the term. But I’m not looking at them for inspiration in creating my own film. Instead, I’m looking at them in light of how they relate (cinematically) to a genre that I’d like to adapt, at least in part, to a fantasy adventure game. Or rather (since the game is mostly written at this point anyway…here I’m talking about 5AK) I’m looking at how to refine my setting.

And considering whether to junk it altogether and start from scratch.

The thing about these fantasy “epics” is they have free reign to include fantastic monsters and fabulous treasures and supernatural magic and violent adventure and steamy romance all under a single, semi-coherent whole. They also have an advantage over “historic-ish” fantasy fiction in that, being non-historical, they don’t have to pay any attention to real history. Which, of course, is useful when building an RPG setting, since it gives both DM and players full freedom to move and shake the world however they wish without guilt or complaint from armchair historians in the group.

Having such freedom contributes to stress-free fun.

; )

[interestingly, I was surprised to find that The Sword & The Sorcerer IS set in our “real world,” somewhat. The novelization makes reference to Egypt and Rome and Persia and Zimbabwe being contemporary cultures, and the main bad guy is the King of Aragon (a medieval Spanish kingdom), even though the main city/kingdom of Ehdan has no apparent counterpart in our real world]

Anyway, mainly what I was looking for was HOW each of these films dealt with the subject of religion, priests, and the cleric class…because right at the moment I’m having a really damn hard time justifying its inclusion in my game.

I have blogged about and dissected the cleric class in many, many posts over the years. I’ve discussed how to justify it in terms of Old School adventuring; I’ve talked about how it doesn’t have to be the “team medic;” I’ve discussed the character in relationship to the paladin class (and how the latter is fairly redundant with the inclusion of the cleric, save for the cleric’s weapon restrictions); I’ve discussed how the cleric as a concept renders moot the whole idea of “character death” being a substantial penalty; I’ve written what I feel is the difference between clerics and “temple priests;” I’ve written about my own experiences with the class, both as a player and as a DM…just a lot of different clerical posts can be found on this blog.

What I don’t think I’ve written about is DROPPING the class altogether.

A few years back I was inspired to write my own fantasy RPG, using Tolkien as a model. This game did not include clerics (there aren’t any clerics in Tolkien, unless you count Aragorn). It also, really didn’t make it out of the game (my main aim was to incorporate a clever mechanic I’d devised into an RPG, but a single clever mechanic does not an RPG make). Call this game “L.”

A couple years ago I again started working on something very much like my own version of B/X D&D (this was even before I started tossing around the concept of “D&D Mine” though it was a fantasy heartbreaker in all the usual regards). The magic system actually had a little similarity to that “clever mechanic” mentioned earlier, but otherwise it was a lot of keeping B/X as B/X, save that it shaved the total number of classes down to three: fighter, magic-user, and “adventurer.” While it lacked an actual clerical class, it provided rules for playing a “holy man/woman” that would be added onto the normal character class, giving you a few benefits (turning the undead, healing wounds and illness by “laying on hands”) in exchange for certain vows and alignment restrictions. Aside from the obvious differences, this game was actually largely inspired by the Good Parts found in DCC, but reflected and modified some of my frustrations found within the DCC system. It still wasn’t great and I decided to junk it. That game was called “FFA.”

Then, of course, WotC announced their D&D Next project (5E) which I thought was pretty stupid and insipid and caused me to do a little introspection into what I felt was the “real core” of D&D. This line of reflection led me to the conclusion that we all just need to write our own D&D…what I call the D&D Mine concept…and stop worrying about editions altogether. I set out to do just that, culling from OD&D and Chainmail and Holmes as much (if not more so) than B/X. My game, which I was calling BSS (Blood, Sand, and Silk) had all four basic classes of B/X including the cleric. It also, in this iteration, threw out a single “subclass” for each (the monk, paladin, illusionist, and assassin), each of which was heavily based on the OD&D supplements with regard to scope and requirements.

[for that matter BSS also included rules for dwarves, elves, and halflings in an appendix, noting that including these particular classes would give the game a “high fantasy” feel other than what had been intended by the author. This was me throwing a bone to people who like to include demihumans]

And then we came to 5AK, which isn’t all that different from BSS, except that it has discarded the “alternative combat system” first found in OD&D (and subsequently copied through AD&D and Holmes and B/X and BECMI) and moved back to a Chainmail-like system. In the process, everything about the game was updated to a D6-based system, and the magic system was reworked and the classes simplified (especially the subclasses) and additional subclasses added. Oh, yeah…and all of the setting material and additional rules stuff was piped in to the mix.

Yeah, actually the latest iteration is quite a bit different from the prior version.

So. clerics…first let me examine these films with regard to clerics.

The Sword and the Sorcerer: despite being (kind of) set in a “real world” setting, there seems to be no recognizable divinities present. The mention of Rome and Egypt as separate entities makes me think the time of the setting is pre-Christian (which would also mean pre-Islam since Islam didn’t arrive on the scene till six centuries after Christianity). The sorcerer himself is pretty demonic in appearance (and is treated as a sort of demon or minor divinity…at least by the witch that raises him) but the whole thing is kind of sketchy. It IS a movie after all: a vehicle to provide certain thrills and chills in an effort to make money. It’s not necessarily a thoughtful, well-constructed setting for use of a “world.”

Conan the Barbarian (also issued in 1982…do you think any of these were produced to capitalize on the marked popularity of a certain role-playing game?) is set in Howard’s Hyboria sometime after the Fall of Atlantis (circa 10,000 BCE for the first destruction based on the Cayce timeline; a bit more recent if you use Solon’s account) but before the advent of the Aryan race (which, if simply meaning “Old Iranian” would indicate 6^th century BCE). That’s a long span of range, and Howard’s world is generally considered to be pre-recorded history. Recorded history is figured to have begun around 4,000 BCE (with the invention of writing allowing history to be “recorded”). In the Conan film we have a villain who purports to be a “demigod” walking the earth…though he may, alternatively, be simply a sorcerer and/or supernatural creature. HE has priests and worshippers, but none exhibit supernatural powers…they simply enforce the tenets of his particular “faith.” The time-setting of Hyboria also puts it long before the advent of any type of monotheism. In other words, no “clerics” in the D&D sense, despite the presence of necromancy.

Beastmaster certainly has the most “ancient” look to the setting. The largest city is a simple (by medieval standards) walled village whose centerpiece is a step-pyramid temple. There are (small) pastoral villages and marauding hordes and that’s it…no real organized civilization to speak of. Fewer population and people are closer knit (a lot of folks are related to each other and everything has a “small town” feel to it), plus names like Imur and Ard are suggestive of Enoch and Ur for “ancient city names.” Technology is slim: there’s agriculture and animal husbandry (including domesticated riding horses) but no metal armor or shields that I recall. They do have steel blades…. nice ones!...but again, it’s not really helpful to try attributing any type of rhyme or reason to the “world design” of a cinematic piece like Beastmaster.

In Beastmaster, the priests really ARE “priests” in the Old Religion sense of the term: with preaching and conversion and sacrifices to an unknown, unseen divinity…likewise, the lives of the people are fairly ruled by religion and there is the classic (and historic) struggle between rival powers of Church and State (the king and high priest don’t get along, causing the drama that drives the plot). As far as supernatural powers go, though, the priests really have none…at least nothing that is divinely channeled. The high priest’s harnessed the aid of witches who work sorcery for him, and he’s instilled fanaticism in his followers, and he’s got some alchemical secrets under his belt…but that’s it. Beastmaster feels a lot like OD&D…if OD&D was played only with fighting men in a semi-neolithic society. Even the priests (of which there are many) are all “fighting men;” they carry swords and crossbows and the heroes worry being outnumbered and killed or captured. The religion means having a willingness to die for the cause and following the instructions of the divine power (as interpreted, sometimes haphazardly, through the mouthpiece which is the high priest).

No “clerics” here either.

If I look back at my Howard or my Moorcock, the only priest-types one finds are sorcerers or illusionists or charlatans or political figures that generally worship demonic (and/or uncaring) entities and rule through intimidation and fear, if not outright lies. On the other hand, even fast-forwarding to more medieval, “non-ancient” fiction doesn’t find anything of a “clerical” example. Arthurian legend has a background Catholicism to it (in some legends) and nature-worshipping Druidism (in others)…but Merlin an Morganna, even in the fiction that considers them “pagan priests,” are more akin to magic-users in their spells and abilities. Healing through herb lore is NOT the same thing as “channeling the power of God” to heal wounds.

Anyone here remember the priest in Dragonslayer? That’s the closest thing I’ve found to an adventuring cleric in cinematic fiction (at least cinematic fiction not derived from D&D)…and we all saw what happened to him. Bacon.

Personally, despite the fact that I’m enjoying playing a cleric in my on-line game (mainly because I don’t play him like a cleric…at the moment he’s in a bare-knuckle boxing match), I’m thinking I need to axe the archetype as a class. Yes, D&D…in ALL its post-Chainmail incarnations…has always had clerics. I understand WHY, too…but I’m thinking of doing away with the whole concept.

And since this post is getting kind of long, I’ll talk about my thought process for “how to do it” in a separate write-up. Cheers.

Religious Fairytales

Officially, last night was play-test #1 of 5AK, the fantasy heartbreaker I’ve been working on that is MY entry into the “build your own D&D” craze that’s been going on with gamers since…well, since long before Gary Gygax passed away (you can probably mark a start date of circa 1975 when Ken St. Andre first published Tunnels & Trolls…). ANYway, unofficially this was play-test #3, though play-test #1 was really just an adaptation of my D6 rules to AD&D (a converted Dwellers of the Forbidden City acted as the staging ground), and play-test #2 was done prior to the setting material being hammered out (back when I was still calling the game Blood, Sand, and Silk…yes, that’s terrible, I know).  

Well stuff IS hammered now…plenty hammered…and last night was the first foray using rules that are about 85% complete (it’s just the “writing it all up” thing that I’m still working on…damn monster/spell lists!). The SYSTEM(s) are in place…everything except for mass land combat and maritime adventure…and I felt confident that the game is put together enough that it would “work.”

And it did.

So far anyway. Unfortunately, I’m starting to second guess myself a bit about the setting. In doing heavy research into 8^th century Arabia, both its reality and its folklore (see the Arabian Nights for info) I may have gone too far towards the “fairy tale” genre with the setting. Right now, the game feels a little “goody-goody” as tends to happen when you involve monotheism (or an over-arching “good” deity as the head dude in your game), and where things like customs, family, religion, and romance are given some semblance of importance. In other words: “when it’s not your usual D&D game.”

Thing is, part of the reason I went this route was to move the game away from Tolkien-esque or King Arthur-esque fantasy (moving things out of Jolly Old England) and more towards a Middle Eastern flavor which feels (to me) much more Howardian or “Gor-ean”…more sword-and-sorcery-and ass-kickery in other words. Hopefully from the backs of giant birds (rocs rock, okay?).

But rather than Old Persia and dancing girls I moved the setting forward to a post-Islamic statehood, and the inclusion of Islam (and the Golden Age of Baghdad) has given the thing a much less “gritty” flavor, despite the presence of “abominations” and “beastmen.” Why o why did I do this, then?

1. 800 CE is the time/setting of the Arabian Nights stories (even though many of them are culled from pre-Islamic folk tales, I realize)…and the Arabian Nights stories are a HEAVY influence on both the game and myself.
2. I dig on Islam and old school monotheism (like the Coptics and medieval Catholicism) in general.
3. Without monotheism, I really can’t justify the cleric class.

When I first started doing my heartbreaker (the one that got play-tested with the Dwellers of the Forbidden City) I didn’t have a cleric class in it…only the fighter, mage, and “adventurer.” There was a “holy man” tack-on ability that any class might have (kind of like AD&D psionics) which gave each class a different flavor…kind of like a paladin (holy fighter) versus priest (holy mage) versus itinerant saint (holy adventurer).  But then I scrapped all those rules and started over again.

I’m sure some folks are wondering, “why include a cleric at all?” If you want a gritty, Howardian (or Moorcocking) style S&S game, why bother with any type of divine adventurer, especially considering their lack of literary precedent (in the pulp adventure literature I like)? After all, there’s no such character in the Arabian Nights tales either…one could keep Islam or a monotheistic cult as a religion in the setting AND still exclude the cleric. And then, if I decide to make the game grittier and knock it back a few centuries prior to the rise of Christianity and Islam (back when you only had those “crazy Jews” with their temple and Holiest of Holies)…THEN if you decide to go that route, you can and “priests” can either being magic-users (if they happen to know and use magic) or not (if they don’t). Why O why even bother putting clerics in the game?

Good question. I think I did it for the spells.

Well, for the spells and for Joan of Arc. I LOVE Joan of Arc…that is to say that, for whatever reason, I find her story/legend to be fairly cool and inspiring and I use her as an archetype cleric (though one could, of course, also model her using a “crazy fighter” with a high Charisma score). I don’t know…I also dig the idea of a “war priest” or any type of primitive chieftain who is also the spiritual leader of a people. You see that archetype a lot in history and across many cultures. Hell, it wasn’t all that long ago that the monarchs of Europe were considered to have “divine right” to the throne. And isn’t the English monarch still also the head of the Anglican church??

The point is, whether you’re Mohamed or Saint Joan or some pagan priest of Thor or Mithras or whomever, I kind of dig the idea. On the other hand, my “fantasy adventure game” is trying to get away from being a “war game,” since war can be a boring, one-note story while “fantasy adventure” can encompass a lot of different tales.

But then, let’s go back to the spells.

I know that some people (who prefer a more Sword & Sorcery style game) axe clerics from the mix. They either add cleric spells to the wizard spell list OR they code magic as “black” and “white” (and maybe a couple other colors) OR they just add extra healing rules (like “surges”) OR they just axe ‘em (and their abilities) completely and give the game a much grittier feel due to the high mortality rate.

I know those are all options. I just don’t like them.

Or rather I prefer to have cleric spells (“divine miracles”) separate from the magic of a wizard. I like to think that there are SOME things magic cannot accomplish (arcane limits). I also prefer the rules as written with regard to healing (or with possibly even LESS healing) because I think the rules as written are “plenty gritty” depending on the edition of D&D you’re playing. Inflating PCs to superheroic proportion is the bigger expunger of “grittiness” from your campaign than the addition of a cleric class with a handful of healing spells.

So I LIKE that. I like a separate class that has a separate (and limited) type of magic. In fact, I’ve found ways to limit clerics even more with regard to their spell use, which I find to be very cool AND prevents them from becoming too much the “party medic.” But the ONLY way I’ve found to do what I want…which is to have two very different types of magic, each limited (or powerful) in their own ways…is to have one set of spells be granted by a divine force. Something capable of granting miracles to the truly devout.

Now, this of course, doesn’t model my real world mentality of the divine and religion…no more than my wizardry spells model what I think of “real” magic. Personally, I’m a big believer in the power of human mind and thought and its ability impact the world in ways one might seem mysterious. I am also a believer in the power of ritual (whether we’re talking Wiccan circle magic, hermetic voodoo, or the Catholic Mass), and of humans bending their thought and intention (i.e. “prayers”) towards an end and having that end met…in the manner that is favorable to the divine Will of God (or the Universe, Fate, whatever).

But that New Agey stuff is NOT what I want in my fantasy adventure game. I want to hearken back to a time when illiteracy and superstition mixed with folklore to give rise to legends of wizards and their spell books, back to a time when people feared attacks from literal, corporeal demons, and when the reading of a holy text (whether the Bible or Koran or Talmud or what have you) could banish said demons and cast off evil and perform miraculous miracles. I want my wizards to look into crystal balls or scrying pools and see far off places or future happenings…AND I want the power of prayer to protect holy men and women from the maleficent effects of sorcery. Astrology and tarot card reading is just side note “color” – I want my witch to make a flying potion with a few nasty ingredients and zoom around the Dome of the Rock three times, flaunting his mortal form. Now, if he ends up shattered and broken by the power of a true Apostle (as happened to Simon the Mage)…well, that’s the price you pay for being flamboyant with your sorcery.

I like that dichotomy…that “push & pull.” Unfortunately, it does seem to lend the game more of a fairy tale or fable type of feeling…instead of a wining and wenching and lotus eating bloody-sword-in-meaty-fist feeling. Which was what I initially set out to create.

Conan never seemed to give much thought to his mortal soul; he was a very secular adventurer. Which was probably the case for most ancient sell-swords and mercenaries…it’s hard to put too much stock in God and religion when you’ve put a lot of screaming people to death with your blade (especially when a lot of them were praying to God to save them from such a fate). A fighter like Conan is more likely to disregard religion…but such wasn’t really the case with most folks for most of human history (up till say, the 18^th or 19^th century). In the middle ages you were at church every Sunday not because you wanted to be a “good Christian” but because you imperiled your mortal soul by skipping the service…and that was a threat that used to carry a lot more teeth than it does in our jaded and decadent age.

Conan (and Elric and Leiber’s heroes, etc.) are products of the 20^th century and 20^th century ideologies and ethics. Gosh, maybe S&S literature could simply be termed “Godless fantasy.” Which is kind of ironic when you consider how many high priests and pantheons and mad gods and fire worshippers, etc. are found throughout the pages of those books.

So, yeah, I’m second guessing myself a bit, because I wanted to get back to more of D&D’s “literary inspirations” and instead it’s reading a bit more like an Arabic version of the Brothers Grimm. Which isn’t terrible (plenty of people get beheaded, poisoned, beaten, enslaved and cannibalized in those old Arabian Nights stories)…but it’s a little unsettling to have strayed so far from the path I originally intended. Just in tone.

And speaking of “straying from the path”…sheesh, I started this post with the intention of blogging about the actual play of the game session and here I wandered around for three pages, airing my tangential thoughts instead. I guess I’ll do a separate post on the play itself.