Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Gandalf

Here we go again, writing a post inspired by something JB at BX/Blackrazor said that got under my skin.  The inciting posts are this one and this one.

Getting the rant out of the way ...

I do not understand why this concept of "rememorizing" spells is such a burr in the sides of so many people.  It isn't as if having to learn something all over again isn't ordinary in today's world.  I haven't used integral calculus since High School.  I've forgotten nearly all the Russian, French, Latin and Greek I ever knew, and once upon a time I got Bs in those classes.  And besides, why, why, WHY all this carping about how something that doesn't exist doesn't conform to logic that doesn't exist?  It's magic, people!  If we discovered magic in the real world, and it involved rubbing a monkey against your naked butt and then making balloon animals, we'd do it however ridiculous it was because the magic would fucking work!  An argument that magic in D&D works ridiculously makes as much sense as measuring the ass of an angel to figure out how many can fit on a pin.  Can we not spend our time writing words more efficiently?

I suppose not, because I'm writing this post.

Okay.  A few caveats.  I don't run spells exactly like it's said in AD&D.  I do require mages and illusionists to rememorize spells; I expect clerics to pray for them; and I expect druids to meditate.  I have redefined "memorization" on my wiki, but that's not important.  The cost to rememorize a spell is 15 minutes per spell level (cantrips count as half a level).  And as a quick answer to some things JB said, a "dagger" is NOT a "knife."  Not remotely.  A spellbook only needs to be large enough to hold the number of spells the character has presently ~ at 1st level, this is just a small book.  At 5th, as the spells need more space and proliferate, the caster buys another blank book and wraps them both together with cloth.  The "big book" of spells relates to the very high mage who has taken the time and trouble to transfer all those old copies onto one massive tome, which sits in the library and does not get dragged across the landscape, because said mage teleports into the situation and teleports home to relearn said spells.

Shut up Alexis.  Stop ranting.

Okay, okay.  The meat & potatoes.

I appreciate the procedure of the spellcaster being temporarily denuded of spells, because it encourages reliance on classes who have relatively less power.  Because the fighter always has a sword, as long as he's awake, it helps mitigate the magnificent power of the spellcaster by giving them a "Dr. Jekyll" persona.  At one moment massively powerful, the next a soft, spongy vulnerable soul with a pointy dirk and not much guts.  The time spent having to regain the spells, refolding them into the spellcaster's mind, extends this Dr. Jekyll period sufficiently to make the caster dependent.  This helps build the party and mitigates the player's feelings that the caster "wins every battle."

An 8th level mage in my world will have between 26 and 30 cantrips, six 1st level spells, three 2nd level spells, three 3rd level spells and two 4th level spells.  Typically during a dungeon day, virtually every spell will be cast and about ten cantrips.  The total time to relearn all these spells = 34 levels = 8.5 hours.  Add to this time the caster must spend healing and resting, during which spells cannot be relearned, and we have a character who will very definitely Not use their spells frivolously.  That is what I want.  I am always speaking about how I have created rules that lower spellcasters to the level of fighters and thieves; relearning spells is a cornerstone of that method.

I was always getting into arguments with people who would explain how magic could accomplish all the world's productivity, as the spells could be cast every day and within a few rounds.  Well, unless caster want to spend all their free time staring at their spellbook, for the sake a few farmers who could bloody well go out and hoe the field themselves, as they have nothing else of importance to do, spellcasters are going to find something better to do with their time.  I like that, too.

Additionally, since a cleric is going to have to wedge nearly two hours into the schedule of praying to their god exclusively to get their resurrection spell back, because the miller's son doesn't know how a waterwheel works, there's going to be a pretty strong pushback against using the spell just because it is there.  It gives good reason for the cleric to ask, "And why should I raise this lout, exactly?"  A cleric high enough level to cast resurrection will have the responsibilities of a bishop or a cardinal.  Every try to get two hours of a bishop's time, just because you have something you want?  Good luck, buddy.

I could give a rat's ass for the logic of whether or not rememorizing "makes sense" from a theoretical "this is how magic works" point of view.  I care about how it works in the game procedures of my setting's design.  Mages, as written in the books, need hamstringing.  This is a perfectly reasonable, comparable, acceptable way to do it and I have never had a character complain.  After all, there has to be some cost to having all that power.

Drafting Research

Following my introduction with this post, the next step would be to clear out the romance and attack spell research as a design problem.  Specifically, what are we designing, and how do we get there?

To explain that, I have to repeat my position on how spells work.  A "spell" is the assembling and ordering of natural forces, however misunederstood by a non-magic using society, in a specific way so as to call a predictable effect.  This assembling is accomplished, in my game, by producing sounds and moving the body, while concentrating the mind, through a period of time that a given spell requires.  More powerful spells are more complex, so that the assembling of the natural forces involved takes longer.  Some spells may require hours to assemble this power.

Assembling these forces has led to different strategies by different classes.  Clerics pray to appease higher powers than themselves, so that they may rely upon these higher powers to intervene in the magic's assembly when the moment comes.  Druids seek innate energies within the world's physical space, which they understand and can use at the right time to assemble their spells.  Bards do something similar, but they weave spells with music.  Finally, illusionists and mages rely entirely upon their own minds, assembling spells with considerable mental acumen.

If we are researching a cleric spell as opposed to a magic or illusionary spell, the methodology is entirely different.  Therefore, a spell-researching system must be flexible and view the problem from more than the static angle of acquiring materials and laboratories.  Why would a cleric need a laboratory to speak more nearly with the cosmos?  Why would a bard?  Or a druid?

Moreover, we need to consider the point of reference between the spellcaster and the availability of the spell.  A mage or illusionist studies a spellbook, which orders vast amounts of information into the character's thoughts, which the character spends time organizing, like a memory expert creating a thought-cathedral in their mind.  The casting of the spell shatters this order, which is tenuous and is, in large part, subconciously maintained.  Therefore, it must be reordered again before the spell can be cast.  The term, "memorizing," is merely a placeholder.  It is a convenient word to describe something for which we have no word.

The cleric spends time effectively pleading with the cosmos, asking, "Please let me cast this spell again today, I cannot do it without your help."  The druid mediates and invests self with the ever changing environment, as the various energies that are everywhere shift daily; once those energies are found, they are tapped, and the druid stores spell energy in his or her body, which can then be released; but it has to be found again the next day, after resting.  The bard practices, tunes the instrument, spends as much as an hour finding the perfect tone and resonance, which takes time and effort to do ~ then affixes a perfect memory of that tone so that it can be played later that same day.  The next day, a change in the weather, the age of the bard, the stiffness in the bard's fingers, can all mean time spent needed to find that tone again.

More precisely, then, the mage and illusionist are looking to create symbols in a spellbook that can be, in turn, studied and used to order the new spell in the mind.  The cleric seeks to appease the god into giving a new spell that has never been granted on Earth.  The druid requires new knowledge of the environment.  The bard requires a new song.

Before the symbols can be written, they must accurately describe the manifestation that is to be created.  The cleric must be able to explain precisely to the god what is needed, and convince the god to perhaps turn to other gods in order to gain the power, that can then be sent on to the cleric.  The specific concordant element of the Earth itself, and perhaps the universe, must be identified and found by the druid before it can be tapped into.  The song must be heard, perhaps in the bard's imagination, perhaps in actual fact, before it can be written and repeated.  These are different journeys, but they amount to the same thing: discovery.

The path is an adventure.  And like an adventure, there are many paths that might seem like the right one, but the DM already knows, before the players start out, what the right path is.  The DM may provide ideas, or clues, or proposed strategies, presented in books and out of the mouths of experts, but the DM knows which experts are lying and which are telling the truth.

Like moving through a dungeon, the players have multiple doors that may lead them to a spell.  Some doors are false.  Some are real.  Some will lead to dangerous, but profitable outcomes; others will lead to simple, but fruitless results.  As each path is tried, and discarded, the player comes closer to the goal.

Let us take an example.  Suppose the spell "dancing lights" does not exist, and the player would like it to exist.  Our first question is, what exactly are dancing lights?  We have the spell description, but that only tells us the result.  It does not explain what the lights are, or how they manifest, or what they are made of.  Clearly, not fire.

Remembering that we are now creating this spell from scratch, the player does some research and finds several possibilities:  it is cold energy drawn from the elemental plane of fire; they are illusions and actually only exist in the mind of the onlooker; they are hard, physical light, compressed into fire-like images.  Which is true?  The DM knows.  And the DM does not change the final answer, any more than the DM moves the last room of a dungeon.  But each of these three possibilities looks promising.  Which should the player pursue?

The DM creates three pathways.  That is a lot of work for some DMs, I know, but I am explaining what I would do with spell research, given my degree of experience, and personally I would find it quite easy in a few days to spontaneously create three pathways.  In fact, I managed it since Friday:

One:  Research elementism.  Insert magical fire into natural fire, in a way that attempts to produce natural fire that does not need fuel to burn, using alchemy.  By reducing the heat of the magical-natural fire, perhaps it can "burn" without producing heat.  Experiment with other spells that allow telekinetic control on a very minimal basis (no weight, much easier than telekinesis).

Two:  Using suggestion and ESP, experiment with the creation of thought-creation in the minds of test subjects, to see if the dancing lights can be impressed in their consciousness.  Explore mass delusions, as well as spells such as massmorph and hallucinatory terrain.  Perhaps either can be simplified through painstaking work to draw a 1st level spell out of a 4th level spell's design.

Three:  Begin with the light spell.  Build a prism-based construction that will split the light into separate pieces, perhaps employing elements of the mirror image spell.  Using physics, split the lights in some manner that causes them to flicker, producing only the yellow, red and orange parts of the spectrum.  Since the light spell can be positioned the four weaker dancing lights should be likewise able to be positioned, and then made to move in some fashion.

Each of these is designed to produce the effect first.  Once the effect is produced, the mage and the illusionist can scribe the complex description of the effect into their spellbook, so they can master the effect when they need it.  The bard can hear the lights, and produce the music that will create them again.  Druids and clerics come up short. The spell is not available to their disciplines.

It would be a mistake to think that all three of the methods above will ultimately work.  That would ruin the game.  The player's frustration and sense of meaning in the exercise depends on one, and only one, means to the truth. This makes the truth valuable ~ and their decision-making, as they posit other spells, existing elements, related concepts, etc., into their efforts, entirely of their own making.

Spell research is making something out of pure imagination.  It defies ordinary rules for that reason.  But design follows specific, ordered pathways.  Propose the idea.  Brainstorm a means to get there.  Experiment with each means, to see what results.  Produce the result.  Reproduce the result again.  Write it down and make it standard.

The rest is the work of thinking, on both sides of the table.

Illusionist Spell Use & Acquisition

I feel I am getting closer to specifically defining how a spell works in a character's mind as well as in within the structure of my rules.  The description below corresponds to all my classes - it is only that the content below has been taken from my recently reworked illusionist page.

Unlike other systems, illusionists in my world cannot change or alter their spells daily. The list of spells they possess for their characters are the only spells those characters understand. Thus they must choose carefully at each level, then make the best use of the spells they possess as they can. Like a fighter able to use only a specific list of weapons & skills, the illusionist (and any other spellcaster) is only able to use a specific list of spells.

After casting a spell (or cantrip, for it is true in the case of both), the illusionist must spend a period of time in concentration and study before the spell can be cast again. This is often referred to as 'memorization,' but more accurately it is an ordering of the mind. When the spell is cast, the mind is disordered and much energy is expended. This is sometimes wrongly called 'forgetting' the spell. In fact it is simply that the discipline necessary to recast has been lost. Because of so much energy lost, the illusionist must rest for at least six hours before the necessary time can be taken to discipline the mind again, in the precise manner needed. This process is sometimes called 'learning the spell.'

To an outsider, it really does seem as though the illusionist must relearn the spell every day through memorization, before forgetting the spell again. However, these are the simple-minded explanations given to spellcasting by those who are incapable of truly understanding it.

The illusionist need not take steps to reorder the same spell every day; once compartmentalized in the mind, it is not lost until the spell is actually cast. Thus the unused spell remains locked in the illusionist's mind, unless some damage is caused to the brain that would result in the loss of the spell (an injury that would damage the illusionist's memory or some form of madness). Otherwise, the spell remains fixed until the necessary key words are concentrated upon, 'freeing' the spell. This freeing process is called 'casting.' The process of then letting go of the spell (causing it to enact itself) is called 'discharging.'

Casting a spell and unlocking the mass of knowledge about that spell is the process by which energy is gained from the surrounding environment and pulled into the illusionist, providing the necessary power to transform the physical universe in the manner for which the spell has been created.

As a method to enable the concentration and reordering of the spell, the symbols and words are stored on books and scrolls, to which the illusionist must have access. As having a large number of spells and cantrips can take a lot of space, many higher level illusionists acquire several books or scrolls that they keep in various cases - however, as a group, these are jointly called a 'spellbook' - largely because every low-level illusionist begins with just one small book sufficient to keep records for a few cantrips and 1st level spells. As more spells and cantrips are gained, however, inevitably another book is purchased - or if bookbinding is rare in a region and difficult to obtain, scrolls will be used in a book's place.

Spellbooks and scrolls are measured by 'quires,' a measurement that most would associate with 16 book pages - if the book is 9 inches by 12 inches in size. Changing the size of the book page would change the number of spells and cantrips that could be written on a given page . . . so rather than count the space needed to write a spell or cantrip by 'pages,' quires are used.

A single cantrip will require 1/32 of a quire. A given spell level would require 1/16 of a quire. Thus a 3rd level spell would require 3/16 of a quire. As books in the equipment system are priced and measured by the number of quires they contain, the size of a spellbook the player buys at the start of the campaign determines how long it will be before there is no more space and another book or scroll is required. Take note that in gaining several spells and cantrips at a given level, this space can be used up quickly - and it is often true that a low level illusionist can't afford more than a small, cheap book at first level due to available funds.

As space is required, an illusionist's spellbook may include a group of books which are tied together with string or stored in a box—or even several boxes. A very large spell book can have as many as 14 quires, large enough for a 26th level illusionist. Such a book would be very heavy and expensive.

Copying spells from one book to another is entirely possible if the illusionist knows the spell, but the process will become quite expensive in terms of magical ink. For game purposes, the cost of inscribing a new spell gained from levels - the first time - into the illusionist's spellbook is suspended (simply because I do not wish to punish players for going up a level!). I generally presume that the illusionist has been carefully obtaining just enough magical ink to inscribe their book (through the donations of persons well-met or guilds) without this acquisition being noted on their character sheets. Elective spell copying, however, will require the cost of materials to achieve.

It is presumed that while the character is at a certain level and able to cast those spells they understand, they are reflecting upon and considering other spells that they partly understand (due to their original training and insight) until such time as they achieve a level and the necessary epiphany needed to finally understand how those spells work has been acquired. This epiphany is the result of having gained enough experience.

If a spellbook were destroyed, it would be very difficult and expensive for an illusionist to re-gather their spells together again. While the illusionist could simply write out any spells that were still ordered in mind (a process of unlocking the spell without discharging), finding copies of spells that were not ordered (but which the illusionist would understand upon seeing) could require much searching and expense - plus the cost of materials.

The Blissful Innocence of Spellcasting

So last week, writing about following the player's instructions to the letter, there was a side point I'd meant to make but failed to get to it, in light of writing other things.  This would be, what do I do when it's clear the player doesn't really understand what's going on, but would if they were actually there.

My favorite example - which might clarify the above paragraph - would be the casting of spells.  Ages ago, when I started my online campaign on this blog, a character playing a mage (never mind who), standing in front of a guard, did not like how the conversation was going and started casting a spell to tip the matter in his favor.

I may have written about this at the time.  I wish it was a unique event.  It is not ... and since it has happened many times in my campaign, I demand the privilege of writing about it twice - if I am, in fact, doing so.

Long ago, I made the decision to remove spell components from my spellcasting.  All spells, one must argue, would require some kind of movement ... and in a world where magic was common enough that the children of fishermen, farmers and bakers can grow up to be clerics and mages, OBVIOUSLY the non-magic folk are going to be able to tell when someone is casting a spell.

But try to convince a player.

I don't know, perhaps it is bad television that gives the impression that one flicks one's finger, and people die.  It is patently stupid for a roleplaying game, given that the fighter must get in there and swing his or her damn sword and spurt blood for their experience, while the spellcasters are flicking their fingers here and there.  The gathering of power necessary to cast a spell, to rework matter and energy into something the mind can control, cannot be done with tiny, silly movements!  It must take a lot of freaking work!  The spellcaster must be expected to sweat and suffer while it is done, and the evidence of this action must be clearly visible to everyone on a battlefield.  To play the casting process any other way is to ENSURE that the casters in your world overshadow the fighters ... which is probably a thorn in your side as DM you've been thinking you have to live with.

No, no, no my gentle readers.  Concentration to cast a spell means the caster cannot be thinking of anything else, seeing anything else, hearing anything else!  If means that the caster must be as deaf, dumb and blind to the ongoing chaos surround him and her as an expert diffusing a bomb on a battlefield.  Arguably, at the moment of casting, the mage or cleric ought to be considered AC 10 ... without any power to dodge whatsoever.  I don't play it that way ... I don't want all my casters to die.  But I do wish my casters would understand that throwing a spell is akin to holding your hands over your eyes, dancing a jig and saying nya nya nya over and over.

I may start forcing my players to get out of their seats when casting spells, just so they can get it in their ruddy heads.

The very second any of these fellows starts casting a spell, they need to recognize that for creatures of greater than LOW intelligence that they have effectively painted a target on their chests.  Consider.  I'm not a magic user.  I have no idea what movements or words apply to what spells - but I can damn well see that the fellow jiggling around in the middle of the battle is casting something, and it is very likely to kill me and all my fellows.  What am I going to assume?  That it's a nice, considerate heal spell?  That the fellow wants to grow some flowers or talk to the rocks?  No.  I'm going to assume the absolute worst, and so are all of my fellows.  And if it means risking being hit by the mere fighter in front of me to pull an axe and throw it at that mage, for the love of heaven yes that's what I'm going to do.

I've designed my combat system so that a caster can, if they arrange it, stand behind something and create the spell, then step out and discharge it.  Do they?  No.  Do they pick out some hireling that's taller and wider than they are, to stand in front of them and hide the hands over the eyes and the jigging feet?  No.  Do mages even back up a few hexes before casting their spells?  Um, no.

Over and over, they insist on standing within arm's reach of the enemy, as if NOT actually swinging a sword makes one automatically exempt from attack ... as in, "Don't worry about me over here mumbling, I'm not going to fry you and your buddies in 12 seconds - look at that scary guy with a sword!"

Now, as a DM ... should I just kill my casters, or should I point out that, "Hey, you might not realize that everyone in sight knows exactly what you're doing when you begin to cast a spell ..."

Which?