Happenstance

Okay, so here we are, with some of the work done.  Those who are interested in "a page full of taxonomic detail" and who have trouble "filling hexes" may find this information about moving through hexes in a taiga environment interesting.

"Happenstance" refers to a single random roll that occurs each day, which yes, incorporates the possibility of a random monster encounter.  Sorry, can't help that, this is still D&D and that's what the monsters are for.  Throughout the content being shown, there are hints and links to as-yet not created content, which I'll get to work on when I'm able over the next few days.  So far, there are nearly 4,000 words written on the page and I feel like patting myself on the back and putting up a post here about it.

"Agency" refers to the last post here that I wrote Sunday.  In addition to these things occurring randomly, most of them can be actively searched for, usually two per day, apart from anything else the players might also want to do that day, such fabricate something or meditate.  This includes trying to find the next hex (basically, "travel"), locate food, locate a nearby river should one exist, this sort of thing.  This is the next portion I'll be working on.

It's a first attempt, and many will argue that it needs "testing," which is patently obvious. This is exactly what I intend to do with it, having Arliss and Bertrand run through it.  I think the larger point is that the randomness is, in fact, irrelevant.  It's a place to go if the DM wants to invent something out of thin air, that applies to this environment.  The randomness only exists because I'm inventing a self-play mechanic for the purpose of teaching my game.

Anyway, I've written lots already today and I'm cutting this short.  Enjoy the link; there will be more content on it soon, perhaps tonight, definitely tomorrow.

Fortuna Eruditis Favet

I ended the last post by suggesting the DM put the game's steering wheel into the players hands, and see what they can do with it.  That is to say, despite the random elements within D&D, good play has every opportunity to slant possibilities of success in the party's favour — and this must be considered in every decision the DM makes regarding the set up of conflicts, traps, NPC defections/treason and the manner in which exposition is given to the party.  It can be that bad luck brings about a player's death; but bad luck shouldn't be sufficient to kill every member of the party.  Conceivably, it might be ... but its more likely that in the face of a lot of bad rolls, or plans that went awry, it's the party's stubbornness that's to blame.

So, let's talk about bad play, good play, and luck.

It's not desirable that the outcome of a battle, or a round inside that battle, should be known for certain; this also applies to numerous other parts of the game: like risks related to the players attempt to physically overcome obstacles; or knowing precisely where the enemy are, or what they're going to do, or how strong they are; and of course the uncertainty attached to surviving some forms of attack, like charm, breath weapons, etc.  It's expected that these uncertainties are equal between players and non-players ... thus it's the DM's responsibility to play the enemy correctly when it's faced with the party's abilities — of which the DM has full knowledge, but the enemy does not.

This can be tricky.  I assume that in a world of magical spells, any being with an intelligence of 8 or better (average or better by the old monster manual measure) knows when a spell is being cast by a spellcaster.  For my game, I have chosen to interpret "one round" to create a spell as taking a complete round to produce the magic desired.  Here I use the 14th century etymological interpretation of "cast" as "to calculate astrologically."  No part of the round spent "casting" can be used "discharging" the spell.  That must take place the following round, though the discharge takes place at the will of the spellcaster at that time.  This means that a spellcaster, in combat, must spend an entire round formulating a spell — which is then subject to thwarting before the caster is able to discharge it.  If the caster does this in front of creatures with 7 or less intelligence, then the creature has no knowledge of what the caster is doing (or isn't conscious of it happening) — and therefore would have no special reason for targeting the caster.  IF, on the other hand, a creature with 8 or more intelligence were present, it would know what the caster was doing and would have reason to target the caster specifically, given the chance, shouting, "A spell!  He's casting a spell!"  And thereafter, everyone would know that person was a caster in the fight.

If the non-player had personal knowledge of certain spells, say a fireball, then in my game this presumes said NPC would know that specific spell was being cast — my argument for this is that you go to school to learn how to cast the spell, and practice it until you have the wherewithal to produce that magic.  This doesn't personalise the spell to you, any more than you can choose to remove a patient's kidney "your way."  Magic is a science; as a caster, you produce magic scientifically.  And thus any other scientist in the room that also knows that magic, knows what you plan to do when you start weaving the spell.

[Hm.  Maybe I should change my spell-rules from "cast & discharge" to "weave & cast"; would take time]

The way I have my spell rules, it's always a risk to throw a spell; the player doesn't know who's present, or what they know, and no one wants to have a spell snuffed out before it's gotten off.  The effect greatly changes the dynamic of spellcasters in my game, increasing the importance of fighters and choosing other actions, overall making for a better, less paint-by-numbers combat system.  But I digress.

Luck occurs when a die is rolled in the player's favour or not.  Patton said, "Luck favours those in motion," meaning that by seeking out new ideas, acting quickly and unpredictably, the enemy is put on its back heels, forced to play catch-up against the players' strategy.  The phrase is ad hominem to the ancient Latin phrase, "Fortune favours the bold," reflects the incorporation of bravery when taking quick action.  Don't dither, don't weigh your options endlessly: pick one and strike!

The Latins also liked the phrase, "Fortune favours the prepared mind," which takes into account observation, problem-solving and imagination.  The last is particularly helpful in a party that is ready for anything, no matter what comes through the door or erupts from the pavement.  Surprise is a game rule that affects the speed of the player character's response, and that's a matter of luck; doubt, despair, certainty of losing, the shock a player experiences because he or she can't adjust mentally to the situation, that's a lack of imagination and the sign of an unprepared mind.

I see it all the time.

Good play is therefore good strategy.  As we hear the mooks coming, we order ourselves, choosing places; we prep spells (once cast, the spell can be held until discharged); we lighten our loads; we check the exits; we expect anything; and we acknowledge that there may be a need for us to run.  "I've got the first one on the left," says the fighter; "I'll take the furthest one to the right," says the ranger.  "I'll shoot whatever's between them," says the thief.  The cleric unfurls a scroll, but is ready to put it away again if these creatures seem less than frightening.  No point in wasting a scroll on mooks, if that's what they are.

Bad play is therefore predictable.  No one communicates.  Each person acts entirely alone.  One or two run out ahead of the party, because they're anxious to attack as soon as possible.  The mage loads the most powerful spell in his or her arsenal and lets it loose without hesitation, wasting the blast on mooks.  When the mooks arrive, they swarm through the ranks of the party, putting everyone at risk.  After three bad rounds of not hitting, the party blithely assumes that there luck will change ... they can't miss forever, right?  The mooks grapple the fighter to the ground — none of the party gave a moment's thought to the possibility of grappling.  Two lucky hits and the ranger staggers.  The mage and the thief miss again.

Even if the players turn the battle around, they've lost hit points, they're down their most valuable items and spells, their healing is gone and the dungeon is only started.  More than half the time, the battles that parties win are Pyrrhic.  The goal is to win the battle in a fashion that lets the party push forward.  Most parties are so wrapped up in the one that's happening, or about to happen, they don't even consider the next battle.  The prepared mind knows there will be one; knowing what's coming, act quickly and decisively, together; and note it is braver to stand fast, hold the ground you've picked, and face the onslaught as it comes.  And then, when the battle's won, move quickly, fall upon the enemy before it can prepare a counterattack.

But ... the assumption is that so long as we fight, and we're such-and-such a level, and the DM plays "fairly" and "balances" the encounters, a little good luck will see us through.  And it often does.  Producing that Pyrrhic victory.

I do balance my encounters as a DM.  But I balance them for smart parties, not dumb ones.  There are a dozen ways in which five wise, prepared, imaginative players should make mincemeat of a bunch of sloshy mooks that haven't had a real fight in years.

This wasn't the post I originally intended to write.  I was going to write about how scary-looking bits of tunnels freeze parties.  I guess I've kicked that topic down the road to the next post.

Travel & Encounters

I've finished the 1st draft of my Authentic wiki's Travel page.  At more than 8,500 words, it is the longest page on my wiki.  It covers ten elements related to travel: getting started, being on the road, riding mounts, using vehicles, crossing rivers, finding a place to stay, dealing with town gates and fees, sea travel, weather and, finally, encounters.  This last is a short addition, but I'd like to reproduce it here, then return to writing posts about the original Dungeon Masters Guide.

Encounters

Chance run-ins with other persons, vermin and monsters are more than situations calling for combat. While the interrupt the flow of an adventure, encounters also provide opportunities to provide players with knowledge of the game world. Individuals met on roads or in meeting places will speak of interesting places, tell stories, inform the players about current events and bring news from far away. Vermin tests the players' preparation and enables them to practice their tactics against foes that offer little threat; a well-equipped party should be able to dispatch a few vermin very easily. Monsters make good side quests, or could be part of the adventure coming to meet the players before the players meet them.

It is all a matter of how the DM shapes and manages the game world. If encounters seem too random, then we should make them less so. If encounters seem frivolous, give them a reason for being there. If an encounter on the road isn't a part of the adventure, then make it a part of the adventure. Only a narrow mind believes the only solution to an unsatisfactory encounter is to get rid of it.

Encounters are the natural consequence of travel: to visit new places and see new people. And yes, as the joke goes, to kill them, but also to discover them, to understand them and to learn from them. Encounters must be more than a die roll generating wandering monsters. They must be the reason to travel — the motivation that makes adventuring a worthwhile occupation.

Every Wandering Monster is a Plot Hook

I don't understand the hate that online pundits have for the wandering monster, or that coming from common players, particularly of the later editions.  I can only assume it is because the literature did not understand the gift that wandering monsters are, or how to convey the value of this idea to the community.  I suppose that has much to do with the flat, lifeless tables that usually accompany every mention of wandering monsters, and the railroad-like nature of most settings.  Players are anxious to get to their destinations, like travellers who will drive all night because they resent having to find sanctuary in some city they'd rather bypass than recognize as having its own value.

Speaking for myself, I enjoy stopping when I travel.  I enjoy the unexpected discoveries, the opportunities to taste unexpectedly delicious foods being made in some obscure corner of the country ... the delightful views and the languorous pleasantries of some villa or lakeside inn.  I don't see journeys as reasons to rush, rush, rush, turning a blind eye to the landscape as though it should all turn black and therefore be less of a distraction between me and my destination.  And of all the games where rushing to the end makes the least sense, D&D must be first on the list.  The game doesn't end!  What in the hell is all the hurry to get to an end, when the "end" is immaterial?

As a DM, every monster stumbled across along the way is an opportunity to set the hook for another adventure, another interesting find, another wild ride.  No matter what the monster is, there's always a reason to wonder what it is doing there?  What is it's motivation for being?  What trajectory across the country is it taking, so that it crosses paths with the party?

We don't have to see the wandering monster as a thing happening in a bubble!  If it is a mess of giant insects, are they not part of some infestation?  If thieves, perhaps they have some scheme that they're trying to fund by highway robbery ~ a scheme worth considering.  If it is some group of pilgrims, perhaps there's a reason to break off and go to the holy site they're visiting; that holy site might imaginably offer things the party never considered.  What if it is a wraith, threatening the party while camped one night?  What is that wraith's backstory; what horrible series of events ended by the wraith's cursed presence, in this specific spot?  These are all stories, aren't they?  And I am constantly being told how important it is to get the party to listen to a story and get involved.

Well, have a wandering monster meet them on the road, grab them by the collar and give them a good, hard shake.  Even if the players don't decide to stop and investigate, even if they don't think it's their cup of tea, right now ... they won't forget.  That wraith isn't going anywhere.  If it's an obscure enough roadbed, that infestation might still need cleaning up.  The holy site will still be there.  And hey ~ whatever happened to those thieves?  Did they pull it off?

When the time comes, and the party reaches their destination and gets rid of the big bad, what do you think they'll do?  Wait for you to give them another cold adventure?  Hell no.  One of them will say, "Oh, hey, we're not doing anything right now.  Maybe we should check out that holy place and see what's up with that."

There you are.  Another adventure, ready made.  Before you can say Jack Sprat, the party's invested all over again and you didn't have to do a blessed thing, except to pay a little more attention to a good thing.

Ranges (monster habitats)

Well, I didn't get this done today, but I worked long and hard on it and I want to be sure people see it. So ... here's some of the work for Monster ranges, describing habitats for living creatures. This is something that can be perpetually expanded; eventually I'll create individual pages for each range, when there's enough detail sorted. This will do for today:

I organize the appearance of my monsters on the presence of vegetation and thus food supply, not upon terrain such as "hills" or "mountains." Some creatures do occupy alpine areas, but this is dependent upon the presence of alpine vegetation and not elevation.

The collection of ranges that I use are composites of Kuchler's vegetation classification, organized by climate type as often as not. This is augmented by some vegetation types not included by Kuchler, as monsters exist beneath the sea and Kuchler did not account for sea vegetation.

Please note: this formulation continues to be in a state of flux ~ many of the monster charts already posted on the wiki need adjustment in order to be in tune with the text below, while that text is being finalized. I hope to achieve parity across the Bestiary files in early 2019.

Monster Ranges include the following, with descriptions and images.

Aquatic Ranges

Lake

Includes ponds. These regions range in size from a hundred square yards to thousands of square miles. Several are remnants from glaciation. As they are isolated from one another, the residents of one body of water may be considerably different from another that is nearby. Temperatures vary in lakes and ponds seasonally in temperate and northern zones, so that much of the life associated with these bodies of water exists only during half the year.

The topmost zone of a lake near the shore, where it is shallow, is called the littoral zone. Able to absorb the sun's heat, the water is warmer and supports the most life: aquatic plants, insects, mollusks, fish and amphibians. Eggs and larvae are laid in this zone. Turtles, snakes and bird-life, as well as humanoids, are most likely to hunt here.

The near-surface open water in the middle of the lake is called the limnetic zone. Well-lit, it is dominated by plankton, fish and larger monsters that rise to feed.

The deep-water of a lake, below 30 feet, is called the profundal zone. The water is much colder and denser, little light penetrates and the main food supply is dead organisms. The main animal life is scavengers.

Ocean

These regions are divided into four separate zones, depending on temperature, the amount of light and access to land.

The intertidal zone is where the ocean meets the land. Sometimes the bottom is submerged and at other times exposed, due to waves and tides moving in and out. Mollusks like places where they can emerge from the water to hunt on the land; creatures that prefer to remain submerged include snails, crayfish, sea stars and fish. Larger creatures, exposed only during the very lowest tides, include worms and large predatory mollusks and beasts.

The benthic zone consists of ocean where the bottom is largely untouched by tides and yet enjoys the benefits of life. The zone consists of huge ocean plains, much of it consisting of sand, silt and dead organisms, with little plant life on the bottom. Seaweed forests do reach up to the surface from the bottom but most plant-life is free floating weeds. The water is comparatively warm and nutrient-rich, with fungi, sponges, anemones, worms, sea stars, fishes and the largest number of dwelling humanoid species.

The pelagic zone consists of the open ocean, where the bottom is deep enough to be considered another zone. With no land at all, the pelagic zone is relatively cold, with surface seaweed. Fish tends to congregate in large schools, whereas much larger mammals (whales and dolphins), large fish (sharks) and ocean-going monsters dwell. Most very large creatures feed on abundant plankton.

The abyssal zone is very cold, highly pressured and low is sustenance. A constant rain of detritus floats from above, but light is scant and there is no plant life. Many strange animals are found on the dark floor, or near underwater volcanic vents ~ the largest monsters on Earth dwell in the darkness of this layer, occasionally swimming upwards to prey on large creatures in the pelagic zone.

Reefs

These are widely distributed warm shallow waters fringing islands and atolls, or located upon great shallow barriers upon a continental shelf. The algae that makes up corals produces nutrients through photosynthesis, creating sustenance for invertebrates, fish, urchins, octopuses, sea stars and some humanoid residents.

Rivers

Includes streams. These bodies of flowing water change characteristics as they move from their headwaters towards their mouths. In high country, the temperature is cooler, clearer and has high oxygen levels, which are good for some fish and water scavengers. As width increases and the river slows, species diversity increases, as does vegetation. Towards the mouth, the water becomes murky, decreasing the amount of light. Without light, flora decreases and monsters that use the river as a retreat from which to attack prey on land increases.

Wetlands

Includes swamps, marshes and bogs. Wetlands are standing water that supports aquatic plants and a high diversity of animal life. Species of amphibians, reptiles, birds and furbearing animals, as well as monsters seeking isolation and shelter from humanoid outsiders. Some, such as salt marshes, have high salt concentrations, supporting sea life. Marshes can form along river estuaries or in wide areas where much of the land is near or below sea level.

Terrestrial Ranges

Alpine

The zone of vegetation between the tree line and the highest point of all vegetation, called the nival zone. Alpine growth typically consists of herb grasses and plants, with all woody vegetation disappearing towards higher elevations. The upper limit of alpine vegetations also gives way to bare rock and permanent snow. Winds are strong and continuous, while precipitation is mist or snow. Temperatures are cold and it usually freezes at night. Residents consist of hoofed animals, small mammals and beasts that roost in the high country and plunder lowlands below.

Desert

Barren areas where little precipitation occurs and living conditions are hostile for plant and animal life. The lack of vegetation exposes an unprotected surface subject to weathering, exposing much bare rock. Downpours can create flash floods, resulting in a desert bloom of flora and much needed sustenance for animals and monsters. Plant life will occur wherever there is water, such as seepages from aquifers, surviving on sea mist or minimal rainfall, or congregating around springs that produce oases.

Plants tend to be wiry and tough, with cuticles and spines to preserve water. Creatures and humanoids need to keep cool, use little precious water and be efficient at finding food and water in the desert. Many creatures are nocturnal. Nomads move flocks and herds from oasis to oasis. The largest deserts include the Sahara, Arabian, Gobi and Kalahari, with large expanses of desert on every continent.

Links: ant (giant black) ~ ant (giant bull)

The Encounter Table's Shadow

Last week, a wise friend of mine said he chose to see the players as the encounter, turning the usual perspective on its head.  I must admit this has had considerable effect on my thinking process, leading to this series of posts.

After all, the player characters are the best example of destructive wanderers that we can name.  They slaughter and destroy everything, from dragons and lichs to whole builder monster villages, entirely with malevolence and largely on a random, whimsical basis.  No monster in the wilderness can tell when a group of well-armed, extremely knowledgeable aggressors will show up in astoundingly small numbers and bring an abrupt end to their culture, without showing the least sign of remorse.

When we build encounters, we build them for these players: and that is precisely why encounter tables don't work.  Consider: any encounter table built on the list of monsters we have will be heavy with vermin and passive wanderers ~ and no player party dreams of their opportunity to head out into the wilderness and slaughter giant insects, common predators and assorted hooved animals.  They are certainly not getting themselves equipped to clean out a valley of its giant rat infestation or putting an end to the plague of rot grubs that have been affecting the local herds.  Players want to fight destructive wanderers like chimera or purple worms, or builder monsters like giants and drow elves, or eradicators like mind flayers and undead. Any encounter table we make, however, is bound to produce a very low chance that one of these creatures will pop up.  Instead we will just get vermin and natural animals ~ because there are more of these kind of creatures that exist.

At the same time, builder monsters are mostly all alike.  Oh, giants are big and drow have lots of magic, but the principles from one humanoid group to the next are pretty much unvaried.  There's little majesty in slaughtering the 41st orc, even if the whole party has been cutting their way through a dungeon of three hundred creatures over the previous two sessions.  Builder monsters are fine as an appetizer, but we all know the players want something bigger.

The problem is, destructive wanderers in large numbers just don't make sense, ever.  How chaotic does the world have to be to ensure that the party always happens to be in the neighborhood of some massive horrorshow like a roc or a sphinx, just at the moment they go for a jaunt?  A little convenient, isn't it?  Of course, we can help mitigate the problem by having the party hear of some beast in the upland country a few hundred miles north, enabling them to rush up there in time to wipe out a small cadre force of manticore; but why in hell does it happen when the party shows up that there haven't been nine other groups, closer to the issue, who have already shown up and done the job?  Are the party the only force on the continent capable of dealing with these problems?  And if so, why is it everyone has no idea who they are?

Eradicators seem less socially problematic.  They're out there in the wilderness, quietly turning their 2,000 acre parcel of land into a charcoal-covered bowl of death and decay, without anyone knowing the least thing about it.  These monsters at least can be reasonably stumbled upon without prior knowledge ~ but let's face it.  Lichs, ghosts and beholders do not make the most joyful of prospective encounters.  Give the party a big hydra and they're happy ~ its just a lot of heads and fire-breathing, things we can predict and prepare for ... but even a few medusae will chill a player's blood like a Canadian winter morning.  I find players just aren't that anxious to test themselves against anything with virtually unlimited magic.

Here is the argument, then, for eliminating the random monster determiner: we can toss a few vermin and passive wanderers against a party at the beginning of an adventure, but the party's temperament will only sustain their presence so long before disgust and ennui sets in.  The DM has to be thinking, then, about whether or not this is the time for a destructive wanderer or a group of builder monsters; they can be thrown together but that's a well that gets stale after a few dozen examples.  We're probably best off with some sort of small destructive wanderer, something that wrecks a single dwelling, which can be dispatched quickly on the way to something more interesting.

Over time, we've got to maneuver the party into developing the confidence to tackle a good, deadly eradicator, exactly the sort of thing that makes them sweat.  This is not the time for messing up the tempo of the adventure with some meaningless random encounter pulled off a table.  Adventures can't be set up this way: it would be like supposing we could write a symphony with a set of dice, arguing that the only thing separating us from the success at this is a really good table, a table we just haven't thought of yet.

Any table will only result in producing discordant results.  The game's direction, momentum and feel demands more than chance, it demands a maestro, one who can balance the need of the world to unfold in a sane, believable manner, while showing a path that will enable the strength of resolve the players need to do something they won't believe they can do, even while they are doing it.  "How did we get into this mess?" is a question common to my world ~ and a very good question.  It describes players acting according to their hearts and not their heads ~ before using their heads to get out of their situation.

An encounter table would be unsatisfactory.  I think that's why I've stopped using them.  But it has taken this series of posts for me to see clearly why.  I hope the gentle reader will also see it, and stop feeling guilty for not using a table that has no practical purpose in running a good campaign.

Civilization vs. the Wilderness

In the context of the last post, I am granting no special dispensations for humans or any other form of humanoid; in game terms, anything that can cause a hit point of damage to another creature is a "monster." Therefore, humans are builders just as any other builder monster.

Moreover, I should like to take a moment and point out that a given monster might fit various monster types as described.  Most humans are builders; but humans can easily be malevolent destructive wanderers and a given powerful human might be a very effective eradicator.  The "type" of monster refers to the monster's behaviour and does not necessarily encapsulate every example of a given monster species.

Within the framework, we can describe a "civilization" as any builder monster that has effected a sufficient change to the local environment that the only other monster that can co-exist within the builder's sphere is necessarily verminous in nature.  This does not mean that the vermin are necessarily minor in form.  A vampire might live inside a civilization, in the catacombs under a city or in plain view, as in the Bram Stoker novel.  Howeer, while in the wilderness a vampire might be a very efficient eradicator, in a civilized culture of thousands of builder monsters the vampire must act covertly, or else risk arousing the most powerful of the builder culture leaders to root it out and kill it.  It must be clearly understood that along with reshaping the environment, builder monsters have also shaped their wisdom and capabilities, making builder monsters the most dangerous monsters in every world.

A civilized space may include areas of hinterland, but it should be specified that these areas are deliberately allowed to exist, because they provide forage for domesticated monsters and as hunting reserves, as well as potentially enjoyable places for excursion among the wealthiest and most powerful builder monsters.  True wilderness is not a forest reserve, which has been tailored and picked over by wardens, and thus cleaned of any monsters except for those pesky vermin, which never truly disappear.  True wilderness is back country that no one has as yet been able to clear out, or have not been motivated to clear out, which is the point of the rest of this post.

When gauging which parts of the reader's world are fit for civilization, it should be assumed that builder monsters have already chosen to occupy the best lands, without exception.  If the technology of your world has had the opportunity to produce ocean-crossing vessels, and has existed for thousands of years, then at the very least there is a war going on to remove other monsters from good lands that have only been recently discovered by builder monsters.  That is effectively what is going on in my world in 1650; all this wonderful, prime land has been discovered in the last 150 years and is undergoing a violent transfer of ownership, as builder monsters move en masse to the coastline along the western shore of the world's second largest ocean.  This prime land is being renamed "America," despite the names formerly given to the lands by passive wanderers (or builder monsters with insufficient technology to withstand encroachment).

Wilderness, therefore, describes those places of the world that are largely second-rate in the eyes of builder monsters.  This may include a well-watered plain, but it will be a small one with poor access to the outside world and most likely in a very cold or a very dry and unreliable climate.  Therefore, when wandering through the wilderness, we shouldn't expect to find any large builder cultures ~ at best, we should find only primitive ones.  Any large builder culture will proliferate in population and a desire for outside contact, which will result in the establishment of some kind of trade, followed by the importation of technology and thereafter a rapid civilizing of the wilderness in the manner I've described: that is, the wilderness will be fully rebuilt.

Such a place would be the jumping off point into the wilderness, the last vestige of civilization the players were leaving; it would not be a place the players discovered completely by chance just by wandering fifty or sixty miles after "leaving" civilization.  Everyone in the civilization where the players left would know about the island of civilization the players were "discovering" already.  Such a civilization would already be on the map.

Therefore, builder monsters in the wilderness would be extremely limited by the size of their environment.  They might occupy an oasis, but it won't be a big, massively productive oasis.  They might have settled into a valley, but it won't be a rich, wide, flat valley that might support thousands.  More likely, it will be a somewhat chaotically arranged narrow valley that will support only scores, certainly no more than several hundred.  Such a group of builder monsters, sufficiently separated from actual civilization, could be overlooked by previous explorers and may have only settled in the valley a generation or two before. Perhaps the valley was cleared out a hundred years ago by a group of civilized adventurers and has now been resettled by something else.

Any builder society on the wilderness level, as I've tried to describe, would not have fully gained control over their environment.  They are co-existing with that environment, which means that they are at the mercy of the occasional passive wanderer or substantial group of vermin.  A single destructive wanderer could eliminate the whole society.  They would certainly not have the power to send out soldiers to end the power of an eradicator whose world begins just ten miles to the north.  At best, this little collection of builder monsters are just getting along, perhaps clearing out an acre or two each year, rebuilding a bit of free stone into a dam or a wall, steadily coordinating their power into something more threatening in the future through systemic defenses and steady population growth.  Someday, it might be "civilized" ~ but when the players stumble upon it, we should see the encounter as similar to any other wilderness monster the players might meet. Dangerous, certainly, but not essentially aware of the world outside their little bubble.

Starting a Frame for Monster Encounters

We had a discussion on Facebook lately about encounters and I've been giving the issue some thought.  I'd like to build a framework for encountering monsters in the bush that isn't just based on a table and a random roll.  I'm foreseeing a series of posts.

Fundamentally, I'd like to argue that monsters are territorial, but that this does not necessarily mean that all monsters are necessarily locked to a given place.  Some monsters wander; some do not.  Some monsters form structure; most do not.  The framework I propose is meant to devise a monster for a space that will do more than occupy the space, it will define the space, helping to fill the emptiness of wilderness hex crawls.

For this, I'd rather not discuss monsters individually, so I'll propose five general monster "types."  I don't mean this list to be necessarily inclusive ~ there are bound to be monsters that don't fit these types ~ but I think these would include at least 95% of the monsters with which we're familiar.  The six groups are vermin, passive wanderers, destructive wanderers, builders and eradicators.  I'll set about giving a definition for each:

• Vermin are monsters that can live anywhere without especially affecting their environment.  They can live within urban areas and subterranean complexes, they can occupy lands that are essentially unproductive, they can live in rich lands occupied by other creatures.  They are effectively pests to every other monster, regardless of the monster's intelligence or agenda.  The more obvious forms are various bugs, worms, rodents and other small beasts, mostly acting as scavengers or parasites.  This might include magical creatures that survive as thieves or deliberate annoyances.
• Passive Wanderers include a great many herding animals and beasts of enormous size, mostly herbivorous or otherwise non-destructive, potentially occupying great areas of land by sheer numbers.  It would also include beasts preying upon the herds. On the whole, passive wanderers would occupy land of minimal commercial value, establishing such regions as "territory" because of the eradication of plant material as the herd moves in and eats everything before departing.  Since permanent occupation of said lands by intelligent creatures would mean contending with these herds, the herds and the lands they occupy are left alone except as a food supply.  Note that some primitive tribesmen could be included in this type.
• Destructive Wanderers are big monsters with a malevolent agenda.  Exactly the sort of creature that adventurers are often asked to kill, as such creatures move into an area (often civilized) and begin to wipe out everything within reach, moving onto the next space once the previous space has been smashed.  Such monsters are rare, temporary, but the destruction left behind can last a season or even a few years, depending on the monster involved.
• Builders include creatures who physically seek to constructively redesign the environment once they have entered.  This includes most humanoids plus some odd creatures like beavers or giant termites.  Fundamentally, the land itself is changed so as to provide obvious evidence that the land is occupied by something, producing trails, fields, buildings and altered physical features while also patrolling said area.
• Eradicators are permanent destructive entities that create a stable area of complete eradication of other life, so much as they are able.  This would include many forms of undead and a few highly intelligent malevolent monsters who want an area of desolation between themselves and their neighbors.  Such creatures are usually left alone, as entering the area of desolation often promises a terrible and early death.

From the above, we can propose covering a wilderness like a patchwork quilt.  Most lands with semi-existent vegetation would be occupied by vermin; low vegetation grasslands or heavily vegetated jungles and forest would be occupied by passive wanderers; while anywhere with a water source and arable land would be occupied by a builder species.

Mixed in would be rare instances of destructive wanderers for player game service and hints of the existence of eradicators in the deep wilderness.

As players move through the wilderness, they can be informed of the probable inhabitants (through a ranger or druid's knowledge) by virtue of the amount of vegetation and livability of the topography.  Trails could indicate passive wanderers or might be a hint of a builder.  As a builder's territory was encroached upon, there would be more indications of environmental reconstruction (signs, hunter blinds, abandoned outposts or shelters, etcetera).  Such signs can then be tailored for the specific monster that actually occupies the space.

Next we should talk about spaces and how to determine the size of a monster's territoriality.

Traders

Describes those who act as merchandisers for objects and services that are made by others, as a conduit between artisans and the buying public. Traders do not make things, they buy and sell them. The vocation of a trader is to make profit - to ensure that they make more money from what they sell than the expenditure they are forced to make when they buy. Traders only appear in towns or cities, except under some circumstances: see below.

The status of traders varies from region to region; in low tech regions, between 7 and 11, traders tend to be seen as pariahs or parasites of of the social system - there is a distaste among some for those who do not create, but merely sell. In higher tech regions, where investment becomes more common and the raising of capital in order to create infrastructure becomes more important and respected, traders form an integral part of the region's power structure.

There are two common forms of trader: wholesalers, who deal mostly in raw materials, forming the chain between producers and storefronts; and retailers, who sell from a storefront directly to regular customers. A third type, the peddler, acts as a travelling vendor, occasionally dealing in wholesale goods while hawking goods along roads or in small towns and villages. In all three cases, the balance of goods that are bought and sold will not be manufactured items, but raw and natural goods: produce, staple crops, ores, fish, livestock, animal products and such. These are things that are not 'made' and therefore offer the highest rate of return between the producer and the market where they are sold.

Peddler Encounters

The role of a peddler is a solitary one, a dangerous one also, as to remain commercially viable a peddler must cover a wide territory in order to sell comparatively few wares. The wares themselves cannot be of much value, nor can the cart that peddler uses cannot tempt thieves. A too successful peddler is bound to attract too much of the wrong attention, only to thereafter begin again from scratch or fail to have the wherewithal to continue at all.

During the days, peddlers will be encountered on open roads, and near the village greens of small settlements; they will be very hard to find at night, as they will usually have some safe house along their routes where they can lock up their wares at night. In the open, peddlers will be very distrustful of strangers, especially those who express a willingness to look over their wares, as this is a common ploy to expose what valuables the peddler has. In a public space, the peddler is likely to be more forthcoming.

Peddlers will speak easily of the places where they frequent and will be a font of knowledge about the region, for those who are wise enough to recognize peddlers for this quality. Look for the following motivations in their behavior:

• Pressure to make at least some token purchase, preferably something of absolutely no use to anyone, that the peddler acquired while making a barter with a starving someone who possessed nothing else (most manufactured knick knacks a peddler has will be acquired this way).
• A strong resistance to letting a sale get away - food peddlers were often known as 'badgers.'
• Wares of lower quality than would be found in a town or city; armor that will work at one armor class lower than normally associated with a type; weapons that will break easily; all at the same prices one would find in a proper market.
• An acute willingness to participate in petty crime, so long as the peddler's association with the area isn't threatened; this would include things like a potential for fencing small goods, hiding goods or making introductions to less savory individuals the peddler is bound to know.
• A moderate taste or tolerance for gambling, vices and a willingness to dispense "street justice," meaning that a peddler might prove to be more vicious in defense than expected (use of poison, for example).

Many peddlers are one-time thieves or assassins who have withdrawn from their old ways or have been cast out. Appearances are deceiving.  It is unlikely that a peddler would be above 3rd level, however.

Retailer Encounters

On the surface, these can resemble artisan encounters - however, a trader is likely to have a much wider view of the world, meaning that they are bound to recognize members of the player party for who and what they are. As such, while selling out of a storefront, a retailer will be more focused towards matching their wares to the particular needs of the customer. If a conversation does arise between the trader and a party member (see artisan for rules regarding this), expect the dialogue to differ. Expect the trader to:

• downplay any aspects of creativity or ingenuity that the players have adopted, stressing that a particular item or object for sale would serve the purpose much better (for a reasonable price).
• promote any stereotypes about race, region of orientation, religious orientation and so on when defining the character's intentions to buy anything, showing great surprise if the player does not conform to the convention.
• sell the idea that there is a simpler solution than taking the time to know or understand anything. For example, a trader will argue that a music box is the equivalent of any musical instrument, because it takes less effort to play.
• take a stance that anything that happens in the region fails entirely to take into account the special needs of the buying and selling community.
• treat any large purchase as a virtual bribe regarding any information about the community where the trader dwells (including the potential for giving away state secrets). Make the chance for a given trader to reveal such information a 1% chance per 10 g.p. spent; however, the money spent must be on wares - a trader will straight up refuse an obvious bribe. DM's prerogative what information is revealed, but it must be of substantial interest to the party!

On the whole, traders are less friendly and more profit-driven than artisans, as they exist in a highly competitive business (there are no guilds for traders and no commercial protection generally). They are prepared to abandon their residences if it proves profitable, as they regard money as more valuable than community. They are ready to 'buy' another community if need be. On the whole, then, encounters with traders will be founded on money. Traders will resent player characters who insist upon par when trying to selling items; player characters willing to take a few coins less than par will make a friend of a trader (who will then give them preference in future exchanges, particularly if what the party brought in earlier proved a good sales item).

At best, a retailer is likely to be no higher in level than 4th. Most will be thieves or fighters, though very few may be members of a subversive clergy. A very rare number of store fronts (about 4%) will be fronts for some illegal operation.

Wholesaler Encounters

These are traders who act as enablers to trade. They buy from independent growers, herders, miners and other concerns, then sell to storefront traders - or directly to authorities to support the needs of the military and the building of infrastructure. The most important wholesaler in many parts of the world is the religious monastical system, which pays for items such as wool, salt, grain, produce, hemp or stone, then gets rich transferring this product from rural parts of the world to city and town markets.

Wholesalers act locally, often transferring goods a distance of no more than a few miles from farms or crews working in the hinterland onto the nearest trade routes, where the product is then picked up by other wholesalers who specialize in long distance travel. Some wholesalers exist continuously on the move, moving caravans across the desert, ships across the water, barges up and down rivers or merely along roads from market to market. Other wholesalers never move, setting themselves up in large markets and paying for goods as they arrive, only to then warehouse the goods until they are sold - incrementally, to keep market prices high - to retailers in store fronts. Some wholesalers retain a troop of retailers who sell products at the local bazaar (town market) or stockyards.

Local traders deal in products that have short lives: dairy products, fresh meat, fruits and vegetables. Distance traders tend to deal in hard products that can last weeks in a ship's hold or upon a mule train.

It is probable that any wholesaler encountered will be moving raw materials that, as a body, are worth considerable coin but which are impractical for thieves to steal: ores, cereals grains, hulls full of fresh fish, bricks, barrels of oil or wine, cut timber or some other similar cargo. Even if an individual barrel of ale is worth more than 100 g.p., there would be no practical means of moving it due to its weight and no market to sell it to, since barrels are carefully branded and marked and traders keep careful records for who is entitled to sell wholesale from one place to another (not to mention keeping records for who is on what road in what week). Therefore, most wholesale traders don't keep large retinues of guards to protect their wares - they would be sad for the loss, but it is already understood by all that a group of bandits that attempted to rob a caravan would find themselves in possession of too much of something that carried no value for them. In fact, the less guards a caravan has to protect it, the less likely it will draw attention to itself - and thus a ton of expensive fabric, pottery or dried meat can be moved from city to city safely under hundreds of grain sacks.

When meeting a wholesaler, there will be some mistrust; but if a party is prepared to move along slowly, they will likely be welcome as companions to the caravan or as paying passengers aboard ship or barge.

Wholesalers know a great deal about the trade routes they travel; they know little else about the regions they've been. They are reserved about giving trade information to strangers, as it is a competitive business; however, if the party were to do something of value to a wholesaler, such information may be available.

Because wholesalers aren't interested in selling to customers, they have traders waiting at the end of their journeys for prearranged loads that they are bringing. As such, wholesalers won't sell to just anyone, as this would threaten their trade agreements that will keep them in successful business for years. Players have to arrange with wholesalers in market cities to have goods brought specifically for them (which can be done, saving a lot of money, if the players are prepared to wait). Once a wholesaler feels safe around the players' party and that the party is generous with their own sincerely told story, arrangements can be made if the party wants to do business or even buy into the wholesaler's business.

Depending on the size of a moving caravan or train, travelling wholesalers may be anywhere from 5th to 15th level (as some are monarchs of a sort, leading hundreds of animals and humanoids), as it requires great skill to survive along roads that often pass through wild parts of the world. A local wholesaler, dealing around a town or city, may only be 2nd to 6th level. The master of a wholesaling business permanently at residence in a market will control a thriving business and will have had extensive experience fighting off enemies upon the road in his or her younger days - count these as 8th to 12th level (as they settled for a more comfortable life before becoming the sort of masters who have controlled a caravan all their existence).

See Encounters

Equites

A term that describes the aristocratic classes of low tech regions, minimum tech 7, in which wealth and status is equated with the necessary income to own, ride and travel in carriages pulled by horses. The class is typically hereditary and hold a monopoly on all political power in the region. Equestrians represent an amplification of the control held by elders and chieftains in tribes. The Equites monopolize political power in towns and cities, and in the regions at large, so that the highest ranks of authority, land ownership and wealth are withheld from the general populace. A single member of the Equites is known as an eques. As a group, they typically form an oligarchy in the regions in which they dwell.

Unlike manor lords of a feudalistic culture, Equites are dependent upon the populations of towns and cities, as it is the size and number of their tribes that have given them power (being the richest and eldest of a large clan guarantees their wealth). They are rarely to be found in villages. In larger settlements, however, their number creates the assembly that holds both local and regional power (one of their number being the regional monarch, typically hereditary), the highest functionaries within a region and the leaders of soldiers. Few Equites are traders.

Encounters with Equites depend greatly upon the status of the player characters. If the characters are merely ordinary adventurers passing through an area, there is little reason for an Eques to deign to speak with them. On the other hand, if the characters have obtained notoriety, or if the characters have established themselves in the region as landholders and persons of importance, then they will likely find themselves directly acquainted with equites of the highest stature.

Once again, I don't prefer to use non-player characters to introduce adventures as set pieces in my world - therefore, the overused trope of having an Eques come forward, explain some problem to the characters and then expect the characters to solve it, is not included below. Rather, I try to give three tiers of communication, based on the players' importance to any Equites that might be in the area. Further elaborations can be built from any of these scenarios.

Confronting Strangers

Upon arriving in an area or making themselves known to a community, a well-armed and demonstratively unique party of adventurers brings attention to the locals. Several details may come to life: a) the party is made up of a mosaic of different races, some of which are highly unusual for the region; b) the weapons carried by the party are heavy and numerous, while it will be obvious to everyone that plate mail and war animals of various kinds will indicate considerable wealth; c) the players spend a great deal of money, more than a gold coin for every man, woman and child in the community; d) the players act in a way that distinguishes their lack of respect for local laws or customs; e) there is evidence of wounds, blood on clothing, the dirt that speaks of a wilderness expedition that defines the party as potential outlaws, fugitives or at least persons of desperate nature; f) the party has brought in some questionable items (dead creatures, monster eggs, notably rare items of every stripe) that they wish to sell.

Using the DM's prerogative, it may be appropriate to have a member of the Equites - with a small cadre that outnumbers the party by at least 25% - approach and confront the characters regarding their origin, their purpose for being in the area and their immediate intentions for the future. This Eques may be a local constable, a town elder, a knight, a baron or any of a dozen other important functionaries. The Eques will want satisfactory answers for these questions that accomplishes the following:

• Ensures that the community is SAFE from the party.
• Gives clear and unambiguous details regarding anything about the party's behavior or appearance the Eques wishes to ask.
• Indicates that the party respects the local authority, that is, the Eques speaking to them.
• Shows the party's generosity in trusting the Eques to be part of whatever their forward plans might be.

Failure to do any of this will justify the Eques acting in whatever unilateral manner the Eques sees fit. Parties will very often fail to recognize that in this place, the Eques has power, respect and the absolute loyalty of up to one hundred persons within shouting distance. Moreover, the Eques that approaches will be 6th to 8th level and be supported by at least two henchmen that are one and two levels removed from the Eques' level. Parties that don't behave appropriately will get spanked, and hard. This will probably not mean a jail sentence, but rather a severe fine (everything they own) and a short trip to the edge of the community. This, or the party will be forced to fight to the death against people who are capable of defending their homes and know the lay of the land (making practical flight extraordinarily unlikely). Note that while the party may have horses they can ride to safety, Equites are known for owning horses (and presumably, in a D&D world, a wide variety of other animals).

Alternately, impressing the Eques on the counts above will likely gain their help and friendship (assuming the party's purpose isn't nefarious). This will potentially mean an invitation to dinner, important information, offers of help and allies, special benefits promised upon success of the players' actions, a friend who will speak positively about the party to other persons and thus expand the party's wealth and status in the region. If the players will be generous to the Eques, the Eques will be generous to them.

Obviously, there is a small chance that the Eques that approaches the party will be the actual enemy of the party that the party is seeking. Such situations are special and must be managed depending on the circumstances of the adventure.

Meeting Allies or Famous Characters

Occasionally, player characters will be sent to speak with Equites of various statures, often carrying a token of good will or even a letter of introduction. Once an Eques meets a party under such circumstances, it will be presumed from the outset that the party does not represent a danger to the community and that the party's intentions are friendly. However, the Eques will still be free judge if the party respects and trusts the Eques with information - failing this, the Eques will withdraw support and may take steps to have the party confronted by some other person of authority or power (depending on the circumstance).

In such circumstances, the Eques will desire most to see the players through to success in their activities on account of the person or body that recommended the Eques to the party in the first place. If it happens that the characters lied about their association with the Eques' friend or associate recommending them, and this comes to light, there will be dreadful consequences. If the players live up to the recommendation, however, once again there is great likelihood that the Eques will be a very good friend to the party in the future.

If it happens that the characters are famous in their own right, and this fame becomes known to the Eques, the fame itself will act as a sort of "free-standing recommendation" without the need of a specific person to encourage the Eques to trust and act faithfully to the party. As ever, it must be acknowledged that the party had better live up to their reputation or this help will quickly and irrevocably evaporate. People do not like being fooled and played.

Convening With Equals

Where the characters have established that they themselves are Eques, then there will be rules limiting the amount of power than another Eques has. Equites, of course, exist in a hierarchy - but even if a king has an issue with a lesser member of the elite, there cannot be open discord between Equites within a given region. Thus, any difficulties between various members of the upper classes must be resolved through competition, a court of approval of some kind (in which an Eques' status can be removed) or through subversive action (that cannot be traced to the Eques responsible).

Individual Eques will always help in circumstances where both Eques have something to gain - regardless of personal feeling or emotion. While there may exist hatred between members of a region's oligarchy or ruling members, this hatred can often be overlooked for mutual gain - and then dealt with later through extortion, manipulation, falsified evidence or assassination. A region full of deceit and mistrust can nevertheless pull together against an enemy.

The player characters will be put in situations where they will have to decide which factions in a region to support, which moments are best to take action and which are best to let others do it; and ultimately how to make friends and influence people. This must be done one at a time - but take note, an Eques being rude or even directly insulting to an Eques will not result in an outright opposition or physical attack. More likely, it will result in a smile - one that is more disturbing than an enemy Eques drawing a sword.

Conclusion

Note that the above describes situations in which an Eques of personal power or interest approaches the party. Encounters with persons of specific function within a region, who have specific agendas, will be covered on the page describing functionaries (many of whom will also be Eques).

See Encounters

Artisans

Skilled craft workers who make or create things by hand that may be functional, decorative or describes manufactures made by hand-processing. Thus, artisans make house wares, leather work, clothes, foodstuffs, ceramics, glass & stoneware, metalwork and so on. An artisan is any individual who makes or provides services, but does not apply to unskilled manual laborers. Artisans at the top of their class are known as 'masters'; those who have been rated as adequate by guilds are known as 'journeymen,' while those in the learning process are apprentices. All master artisans in the setting, including those within the guild, are self-employed . . . journeymen may or may not, but on the whole will be mostly autonomous while working shoulder to shoulder with a master who owns the business in which they work.

Artisan encounters will always happen in a village, town or city - and for the most part, will be one-on-one meetings. Whereas most campaigns would see these as opportunities to blatantly sell players on committing themselves to an adventure scenario or quest, with the artisan begging the party to retrieve something, break into something, confront an enemy or some such, I perceive that none of those encounter tropes would be common or specific to artisans, as opposed to any person that might be met on the street. Artisans are not inclined to begin fights, organize themselves into gangs or see theft and melee as practical methods for expanding their reputation in the community. Artisans work at their trade: being makers and shop owners, working most hours each day in their own spaces, would have little time to frequent drinking establishments or chase people on the street begging for attention. As a result, most circumstances in which D&D "encounters" are thought to happen simply don't apply.

Characters and artisans would meet by chance, in the most obvious way: while purchasing things. A character moves from shop to shop, seeking bargains, the best equipment for the right price, equipment for the party (it may take two or three shops to find enough of a rare item) and so on. Some shop keepers talk; some do not. When a conversation is begun, it is done organically - a few words are spoken back and forth, both the character and the artisan find something they like about the other and the conversation begins. It is never about adventuring: it is about the exchange of thoughts, information, ideas. Moreover, it must be emphasized that the shopkeeper is as interested i what the character has to say as the reverse.

Each time the characters make a decision to do some shopping, when they pour over equipment lists (do not give an artisan encounter when a player knows what's wanted and specifically searches for one thing), ask the party if they appreciate that the hunting through shops in the market will take the whole morning or the whole afternoon. If an assent is given, "yes," have each player roll a d20 against their charisma. The player character that beats their charisma by the most will have an artisan encounter, by themselves (sternly inform the other characters not to give advice, though they can comment). If two or more characters tie, either roll it off or prepare to give more than one artisan encounter.

Artisan encounters may be brief, depending on the character. When they have gone long enough, have another customer require the artisan's attention, so that the conversation is cut off that day. Obviously, the player can end the conversation at any time.

Artisan-Character discussions are not set; however, the following topics will be typical, any of which can be used to gain the artisans favor (don't expect immediate bargains - but after 2-5 return visits a given artisan will 'save back' special items or may give away small items for free), which may mean opportunities for further exchanges. Presume that all artisan-character conversations are positive (charisma check was made). Artisans will no do things for the player, however, if asked, nor with the artisan ask anything of the player.

Subjects include the list below; there is no need to stick to any one subject or to cover any subject that doesn't seem relevant to the player's choice of dialogue. The artisan will:

• be interested in seeing anything the characters are carrying that is visually unusual, wishing to know where it has come from; in general, the artisan will be curious to know where the character has come from or what the character is doing in town. 
• be interested in showing off things of his or her own creation, not to sell it but to discuss how a particular thing was made. 
• express personal opinions on the state of the community, the town or city, the region or the whole country, being either disgruntled at the state of affairs, happy with them or doubtful if such will continue. The artisan will not commit treason but may express a number of blatantly uncomfortable viewpoints. Resist having the artisan make personal comments about the player character - race, creed, whatever - as the artisan still sees this person as a potential or paying customer. 
• give a positive opinion or suggestion about where else the character could look, something else the character should buy, something the character ought to see in town (because it is interesting) or worthwhile warning about a particular road or place in the area. 
• describe something the artisan did once that was very brave, particularly when speaking to an obvious fighter; the artisan will probably be looking for respect from the fighter while in turn offering it. 
• describe the effort he or she has taken to get the shop in order, to survive the economic circumstances and perhaps tell a tale or two about some difficulty that was overcome ("we had a fire two years ago, we're still coming back from it"). 
• draw the character's attention to the object they've chosen to buy as not one of the best in the shop, offering a better one in its stead (perhaps with a +1 bonus to save against random destruction). 
• discreetly express approval for the character's attractiveness or personality, flirting politely. 
• offer his or her name for the player to use in seeking out good accommodations or some other minor benefit (depending on how well the character plays the conversation). 
• warn the player about a local crime the player may be breaking without knowing it (carrying banned weapons, wearing a disallowed color, showing too much skin, etcetera), or any other thing the player might want to avoid doing in the area. 
• thank the player for coming to his or her shop, wishing the player the best in future endeavors. 
• make/tell a joke. 
• offer a wager. 

If the conversation is going well, ten minutes should be the cut-off point. If the other players are showing signs of fatigue at the conversation, cut it off sooner. Try to make the conversation at least a little relevant to the player's present concerns and adventure, but don't reward an obtuse, probing question with an answer and don't be heavy-handed and anvilicious in giving information. In other words, don't be the DM, be the artisan. Let the conversation progress as the artisan would - without an agenda but with vitality.

See Encounters

Crews

This post describes working parties for commercial ventures who work mines, ships, roads and more. For rules describing the effectiveness of crews in combat, see Crew Quality.

Crews are work gangs or classes of people who work together in a common activity, generally a structured or hierarchical organization. A location in which a crew works on land is called a crew yard or a work yard; upon the sea, a crew works aboard ship. The members of a crew are predominantly untrained laborers led by skilled laborers and overseers. Large camps will include one or two managers or administrators (scribes, with a staff), who will act under the orders of a governor, director or owner (who will virtually never be found on site).

Aboard ship, these upper positions will be held by mates, led by a boatswain (bo'sun), sailing master and captain. Specialty positions aboard a ship will be held by a pilot, ship's marksman, ship's carpenter or surgeon. As with land crews, the owner of the ship is rarely present, as the captain has been hired to act on the owner's behalf in the ship's commercial venture.

Crews differ in behavior regarding the quality of leadership, the form of occupation, the season (winter in a cold country or summer in a hot country tend to increase stress and potential violence) and degree of isolation. Land crews may be found hundreds of miles from the nearest civilization; seagoing crews, thousands of miles. Crews may control an entire island or valley, they may be working in the midst of a city or they could be responsible for miles of underground tunnels. Sea crews may be military- or trader-based. Land crews may parties committed to clearing land for agriculture, ditch diggers for irrigation or road builders, dredgers, sappers, miners, sawyers and tree cutters for fuel or for construction (including shipbuilding), quarry stonecutters or trappers/hunters.

There are three probable land crew encounters (among a host of unlikely possibilities):

• Speculators. 2-5 workers are encountered prospecting, exploring, tallying trees for cutting, marking the location of roads or other projects intended to be initiated in the future. The party will be tough adventurers, high minded and educated, most likely working for themselves or hired by others to traverse areas to learn if there is something there to be exploited. These groups are likely to be friendly but distrustful, presuming any party they meet is potential competition interested in making an enterprise of the same valuable land they've examined. As such, they will likely swap for equipment but will not give information on what they've seen or found. A ranger will almost certainly be the leader of these speculators; fighters, thieves, assassins, thieves, mages, illusionists and even a rare cleric may make up their number.
• Incomers. 5-30 workers who have been contracted to set up a working camp, prior to the existence of the camp itself. This may involve building ditches, chutes, minimal fortifications, setting up tents, laying trap lines, clearing trees, dredging river courses, cutting roads/trails and so on. Not all eventual camps will involve permanent dwellings, so that a group of incomers can easily be mistaken for camping bandits and vice versa. These groups will be experienced workers, who have fought enough creatures and threats that they will all have some combat training. They will be led by an overseer who will be 3rd or 4th level and at least 4-9 others that are 1st to 3rd level who will be ex-military of one kind or another. Incomers will work on building a camp from a few weeks to several months.
• Full Camp. Workers who are actively full-time on a commercial venture. Small camps of 10-60 workers are most common, but camp size can be as large as 300. Camps larger than 40 will typically have a few permanent dwellings; camps larger than 100 will manifest as villages. Camps larger than 300 will have transformed into permanent settlements, with other ongoing activities beyond the commercial venture that initiated the settlement's existence. The workers of full camps will be three quarters untrained, inexperienced workers; the remainder will experienced workers with some combat training. For every 10 members of the camp will be one of 1st level; the camp will be led by at least four overseers of 2nd to 3rd level and by an administrator of 6th level. Among the workers there may be a surprise, a higher level character who has taken work amidst poor circumstances, whose real experience is unknown to the others.

Crew encounters at sea will most likely consist of fishermen, who will take to the water in individual boats. Treat fishermen and their operations as a moving full camp, operating out of a nearby settlement. Some fishing crews on long-range fishing trips will encamp on the shore at night when able; larger fishing fleets will consist of dozens of vessels that may be bound for fishing grounds thousands of miles from their settlement origins.

Details regarding other ship activities, such as traders, pirates, patrols or explorer vessels will be dealt with on other pages in the wiki.

See Encounters

Bandits

Sometimes, it is about hammering down simple things.

Bandits are groups of nomadic humanoid wanderers reminiscent of more primitive bands, dwelling in regions where there is a sufficient capital to sustain a life of theft and predation. While lawless and prone to marauding behavior, not all bandits are necessarily malevolent. On the whole, those who turn to banditry do so as a reaction to oppression or hardship. Bandits often take no action whatsoever against the lower classes, preferring to prey upon elites of all forms - that is, those with money. Occasionally, some bandits ensure their safety by giving generously to local residents who have very little, helping to sustain their lives. In return, these residents will obstruct authorities seeking familiar bandit groups, providing safe lodging, giving false information or giving warning to the bandits that searchers are in the area.

Bandits recognize no authority but their own.

Bandit groups typically number between 10-60 combat-trained members (foragers), about three quarters of whom are males. In addition to this number, there are typically another 5-30 women and children that are kept hidden in some variety of fortified camp/lair, where the bandits feel they can safely return on occasion to reacquaint themselves with loved ones and store their gains. They are led by a bandit chief, typically of 4-5th level. Among the foragers, 3-24 will be 1st level; 1-8 will be 2nd; 1-4 will be 3rd. There is then a 25% chance of a sub-chief, who will be 4th level. 10% of bandits will be supported by a single shaman, guru or cleric.

There will be three sorts of encounters with bandits:

• Scouting party. 3-12 members are encountered on their return from a reconnaissance or a raid. There's a chance that the party will surprise this number, that some of them will be wounded and that they may be carrying anywhere from 250-1000 g.p. from the treasure they took (if this was a raid). A reconnaissance party will have been scouting a target; if the party chooses to parley, there's a small chance - if the party looks the right sort - that the bandits may ask the party to join in with them on a raid. They'll be moving during the day, camping at night.
• Encampment. 5-40 members will be camped, possibly waiting for raiders or a reconnaissance party to return, potentially celebrating before returning to their lair, more likely sustaining themselves with fishing, foraging, cutting trees, drying hides or other task necessary to sustain the whole bandit group. The season should matter; in fall and winter, the encampment will almost certainly be focused on supplies; in spring, reconnoitering; and in summer, raiding. There's a chance the party may surprise them. If the party chooses to parley, several of the bandits will slip out of the camp while the leaders talk, until a chance comes to feather the party with arrows while the encampment attacks and kills the players. Note that a bandit encampment, from the outside, will not look different from a working crew, except to a thief (who should roll a d12 - a number equal to or less than their level will reveal the truth).
• Ambush. The whole bandit group (10-60) will have decided that the party is worth raiding, or else they will be raiding a village, manor, caravan or some such the party has entered or associated themselves with.

Bandit camps are fervently sought after by authorities. Successful bandits who accumulate enough wealth will sometimes 'retire,' buying their way into the establishment, sometimes obtaining a pardon by bribes or through committing their men to an authorities' cause in times of war.

Bandits will have unusual knowledge of a given hinterland, making them invaluable as spies or smugglers. They prefer mounts in open country but will not use them at all in mountainous or forested regions.

See Encounters

Clan Members

For those not following along, I'm writing a series of posts about clan members in a low tech culture, one where agriculture and even herding hasn't been developed.  This describes certain parts of my D&D world that are extraordinarily backward, on the fringes of civilization (see this map for areas colored in green).

In recent posts I've described some skills that the clan members would possess, enabling their survival and serving as a framework for sorting out duties for each.  I posited a clan of 30 persons, women and men, plus 4 unspecified children.  Below, I'll describe who each of these are (with as little doubling up in skills/roles as possible):

• Chief, the leader and the one who knows best what path to take from place to place; in most ways he would be the best forager and hunter.  He would also be the best pathfinder and best at finding shelter.
• Sub-chief, a quality warrior and leader of the hunting party or alternatively the member that would remain behind when the chief was gone for days on a hunt.
• Shaman, described here.  I'll assume that this is a moderately unusual clan and that it is lucky enough to have the tribal shaman travelling along with it.
• Standard bearer, a young and relatively ineffective warrior with combat experience and enough resolve to stand up if fighting starts.  Serves as a forager when the clan is not on the move.
• Mushroom hunter, the best judge of whether or not a mushroom is safe to eat and where mushrooms may be found; not a desert skill, so let's assume a clan in a boreal forest.
• Keepers of the flint (x2), two warriors who keep the flint & steel necessary to start fires.  One of these two may be able to make fire without tools.  One of these would join the hunting party.
• Old Dog (x2), old warriors (older than 50) best able to lead others back to the clan if they get lost, particularly if going out of sight of land due to weather when boat fishing (sea dog).  There could be three or four of these, but we'll say two.  One of them would likely join the hunting party.
• Watcher, a warrior, the most wary of the clan, the best able to avoid encounters with danger; this member would be solitary, keeping his attention (and ears) on potential threats to the clan.
• Clan drummer, a skilled worker, the most skilled with the drum, there to pass messages between different parts of the clan.

This leaves 19 unaccounted for.  Be sure that as I'm writing this I'm making every effort not to impose any classification where men may be better for a particular job than women.  We know this is usually the case in primitive cultures but I have no wish to perpetrate a requirement there - who says that hobgoblin women can't be more warlike and aggressive than hobgoblin men?  In any case, I leave this problem up to the reader.

4 persons of the 19 would be caretakers for the children, not limited to strictly babysitting but limited to practices like foraging or making things.  We can presume that these four - and the children - would always be within thirty yards of the camp or in the midst of the clan when on the move.

A little over half the remainder - 8 persons - would be primarily foragers or hunters.  We've already counted three persons in the above as members of the hunting party, so we might round out the hunters by granting them 1-3 warriors from the 8 described above.  The remaining foragers would be skilled workers, no more - where practical, most would probably be fishers.

Of the 7 persons left, probably 1 or 2 of them would be old or infirmed and unable to perform work.  They would be just active enough to take care of themselves, walk when the clan moves and find a little food on their own to add to the scant leavings they'd be able to get from the foragers (the rest of the clan would get first pick of the food that was found and the infirm would probably be the last to eat from the supply).  The infirm would likely live from successful hunt to successful hunt, creating its own health problems (too much meat) which their older or infirm systems may not digest well.  Let's say that our clan has 2 such individuals.

The 5 remaining members would be workers.  These would shape and repair tools and hammers, make clothes, tents, drums and nets, hammer together boats, carve fetish objects and generally improve the campsite area by digging out wells, gathering wood, building shelters, grinding down stones and performing most of the daily work-chores like cooking, cleaning and preserving food, creating paints, searching for lost children and so on.  Some of these things I haven't spoken about at all but I'll get to them.

This accounts for everyone.  If the party ran across this clan at a given time of the day, chances are that they would either:

• Be heard by the watcher and walk past the clan without seeing anyone, unless they stumbled across the actual campsite.
• Encounter the foragers, perhaps while fishing, with the chief or sub-chief in the vicinity, along with one keeper of the flint and an old dog.
• Encounter the hunting party, all warriors.
• Stumble into the mushroom hunter, an infirmed or the shaman, moving alone through the area.
• Find the campsite with only the caretakers and children present
• Find the campsite with caretakers, workers and children present.
• Find the campsite with caretakers, foragers, workers and children present.
• Find the campsite with everyone present.

The clan drummer or the watcher could be found in any of the above situations, alone or acting with others, most likely as foragers or hunters.

This list, at least, is useful for the campaign.  That's something.

Set the Odds

Following up on yesterday's post, I'd like to take the matter of selective (rather than randomized) hit points a step further.

Let's take two scenarios.  In both scenarios, the party is wandering over a wilderness country more than 40 miles from a friendly town, where goblins are known to dwell.

In the first scenario, the party comes across a group of a dozen goblins busily quarrying into a rock surface just above the tree line.  The work on the rock is recent, as the goblins have succeeded only in cutting down about seven to eight feet, all of it in the shape of an open pit that's nothing at all like a shaft.  Perhaps a few weeks work altogether.  The goblins all have picks and there's about 500 g.p. worth of complex construction equipment laying about, just as we would expect with a site.  They're just goblins, so the party decides to fall on this little group and kill them, seize the tools and delicate instruments and head back to town.,

In the second scenario, the party is walking along the edge of the same treeline, where everything seems serene and peaceful.  There are no diggings, no sign of any goblins at all - but all at once, the party is hit by a squad of a dozen well-armed goblins who rise up from the rocks above the tree line.  These all fire arrows into the party, hoping to catch the party by surprise.  If the party turns and flees, the goblins are ready with spears; and if the party turns towards the goblins, to try to make their way up to the rocks, the goblins are scattered and well able to get two or three more arrows each before the party can reach even one of them.  Either the party has to separate and go after the goblins individually, try to hit them with missile weapons though the goblins are well under cover or simply give up the field and hope to take the goblins in the trees.  These goblins are well set up to get the party in trouble.

Now ask this question.  Which of these two groups of goblins are likely to have more hit points?

Is it completely random?  Really?  Are we saying that the second group just grabbed a dozen goblins from the nearby lair without picking the best goblins for the job?  Because that seems pretty dumb.  If your high school has a basketball team, is the team picked by just going randomly around the school and grabbing people without thinking about it?  Or is the selection process a bit more elaborate?

And what about these fellows in the quarry.  Sure, they're tough and strong and they've got picks - but does that really make them ready for a military standoff?  Do you think they been chosen to work this dig because they swing a mean pick?  Or might it be, since the work is just starting and there's a greater need to have engineers and goblin geologists who know what they're doing in preparing the intricate arrangements needed to start a mine.  Might it not be that these goblins were selected for their brains and not their combat prowess, hm?

It is true that D&D is a game and that games are based on random dice.  However, D&D is not just a game.  It's also design, the process of deciding what the numbers stand for, what dice to throw and why this roll counts and that doesn't.  It isn't just playing craps, it's inventing craps - and it's a helluva lot more complicated than craps.

It means that long, long before the players arrive at the table to throw their dice, the table has to be built and it has to make sense.  When the players see the collection of diggers, they're entitled to make an intelligent guess at how capable these goblins will be where it comes to defending themselves.  This enables the players to make the same kind of evaluation of the game that a craps player makes when deciding whether or not to double down on making a point.  A 10 is very different from a 6 in this regard.

It isn't unfair to change the 'rules' about how many hit points the goblins have given each special situation.  Taking the goblins at the quarry includes all the elements of rolling a 6.  Handling the goblins at the ambush, that's rolling a 10.  And if there are goblins in the trees, too, waiting for the party to run into them . . . well, that's craps, baby.

If you want a better world, don't let the structure of the game become such a straight-jacket that it forces elements of space and time into the same mundane lithium-fed snore-fest.  Let the monsters be tougher if the situation calls for it; and balance that by making the monsters weaker when the situation calls for that.  Sure, the dice are the game - but you're the DM and you've got to be the game, too.  You're the one setting the odds.