Today my son asked me when I was going to sign us up for the Living Forgotten Realms games happening this weekend. I came clean with him. I told him that with the RPGAs inclusion of Fortune Cards in the LFR campaign, we would no longer be playing. I could no longer support an organization that ran a role playing game where you could get additional character benefits the more cash you shelled out.
He went to his room and cried.
I hate Hasbro and WotC and the RPGA for forcing that decision on me. But it is my decision, and I stand by it.
My son eventually calmed down and we had a deeper discussion about rightness and wrongness and fairness and treating people with respect. There are many more gamers outside the RPGA than inside. We will find more people to play with. And there is a nearly endless variety of games to play.
I do realize game designers' families gotta eat. I do not think this is the right way to go about it. But it's not my company - and I can walk away.
We are now deciding what do on the weekend. The Superbowl is here, so there is no point in even trying to drive on that roads Saturday or Sunday, so it's a good time to stay in. He's thinking about it and will get back with me later. :)
Stay warm.
- Ark
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Monday, January 31, 2011
Moses in the Rushes
So my son and I were clearing off the kitchen table,
getting ready to play our first official Labyrinth Lord game. Denis the Fighter's character sheet was laden
with scattered dice.
I love back story, so I ask my son, "So where does
Denis come from? A big city, a medium
town, or a small village?"
"A great big city," he hopped up to my desk and
pointed the rough draft of the Gulf of Labrys basin. "He was born there, in Norlun."
Hmm, I had intended to start off in Oshtan, which was
more to the south west. Oh well, I could
deal with that.
"Okay, so . . ."
My son wasn't finished.
"And his parents were killed when he was two and he was adopted by
dwarves."
I blinked a couple of times. That completely messed up my whole non-racial
fraternization concept for the world. I
began to imagine baby Denis in a basket made of reeds floating down the
Nile. Oh well, I could deal with that.
I scanned the map.
"There are some nice mountains near Norlun right here. I suppose there could be some dwarves living
here." I nervously looked at the
big word DUERGAR in the mountains. Oh
well, I could deal with that.
"No," he shook his head, pointing to the mountains
with DWARVEN STRONGHOLDS written on them.
"That is where his parents live."
I began scratching my beard. That was over 1,200 miles away from his
home. How in the hell did the two year
old Denis get all the way over there.
The dwarves, in my mind, certainly were not much for travel. They only hit the road if the needed a
Burglar to sneak into lonely mountains.
My mind raced.
"That's a long way away. Why would Denis' parents be anywhere near the
dwarven mountains?"
Of course, the Peanut Gallery had no answer.
"They must have been merchants," I muttered. “
Desperate merchants looking to strike a deal with the dwarves. They would have had to have gone through
here, the NEUTRAL ZONE, which is full of thieves and outcasts of society. They they'd have to brave the Lands of the Goblinkind
to get to the Dwarven Strongholds."
My son nodded.
"The Goblins killed his parents."
"Aha," I nodded back. "It all makes sense now. The dwarves rushed to help the humans, but it
was too late, and all they could save was baby Denis."
"The dwarves taught him to fight and vanquish
anything in his path."
"Vanquish?"
"Yes, it means . . ."
I chuckled, "I know what it means." We sat down and I began to flip to the back
of the Labyrinth Lord book.
"What's that?" he asked.
"Oh, it's a little adventure in the back of the book
I'm going to take Denis through."
"I don't want to do someone else’s adventure. I want to do one of your adventures. Your adventures are much better."
I watched the entirety of my plans go up in smoke. I took a deep breath. I could deal with that.
"Okay . . . so Denis is . . . at his home, in
Jarlsberg . . ."
The boy shook his head.
"It should be a cool name.
Like . . . like . . . Thornhold."
I smiled.
"Okay, So Denis is with his mother and father, Helga and Jarn . . .
Bronzebottom . . ."
"Just Bronze." he said.
"Okay, Denis is deep in the bowels of the Dwarven
Fortress of Thornhold, a hollowed out shell of a mountain. It's normally dark, since the dwarves can see
heat,"
"Like a snake?"
"Like a snake.
But Denis' parents have always carefully lit their home so that Denis
could see well and not stub his toes. So
Helga and Jarn dressed Denis up in the family armor and gave him a sturdy
shield and mighty sword. Then his mother
says 'We've taken care of you all these years, my son, and loved every minute of
it. We've taught you all we can teach
you. It's time you made your way to the
human lands. You need to learn about
being a human. You'll make human friends
and find a human woman to love and have a family with. You can't do that here - only with other
humans.’"
I watched as my son's face began to drop and it almost
looked like he had a tear in his eye.
"It's okay," I said softly. "It's time for Denis to go have adventures now."
"I know Dad," he looked at me, "But Denis
is really sad. He wants to go on
adventures, but Denis loves his mom and dad a lot and will miss them a
bunch."
I nodded and gave him a minute.
"Ready?"
He nodded yes.
"Okay then, Denis' mom and dad hug him and warn him
about the goblins and send him on his way."
He smiled great big.
"Okay, I leave home and go off into the wilderness. Do I see any goblins?"
"As a matter of fact . . . you do."
Okay, now that is why I play.
- Ark
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Riddle Me This - Hit Points
So today I'm playing a little D&D with my son. I just got in the Advanced Edition Companion so I'm feeling all retro - and his fighter Dennis gets knocked down to negative one for hit points. It's been 20 odd years since I've read the dying rules, so I start digging through the AEC for the rules about bleeding from 0 HPs and they dying at -10 - but nothing. Nowhere. Hmm.
What the hell? An AD&D emulator with no 'dying' emulation? Was that not thought neccisary? Just the old 0 HP and you are dead?
So my quesiton is - how do you handle hit points and dying? Zero is death? Negative ten? Something else? And why?
- Ark
What the hell? An AD&D emulator with no 'dying' emulation? Was that not thought neccisary? Just the old 0 HP and you are dead?
So my quesiton is - how do you handle hit points and dying? Zero is death? Negative ten? Something else? And why?
- Ark
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Moving Right Along
As a student of Zen, I should really know when the universe is kicking me in the ass to do something. Okay Universe - I get it. Type IV is dead - long live Labyrinth Lord. Sheesh. Shut up already.
Sigh.
So, moving right along, I'm working on a world that supports the classic D&D feel. I'm having to scrape 4e thoughts out of my mind. Little things like elves being short little dudes that live over 1,000 years, instead of being human sized with 300 years lifespans - these differences really matter. The continuity of elven culture would be much more pronounced. If you can go ask great great uncle Ed what life was like 1700 years ago, well, chances are that kind of society would change very slowly.
Fourth Edition also harps on the fact that the different races are all mixed up all over the place - so while there might be more humans in general, every little village will have some dwarves making swords, halflings hanging out around the tavern, and the ubiquitous half-orc down the road selling doorknobs, or some other stupid things. Blech.
I've made a rough draft of a map for my new campaign. I've marked areas where different races hang out and there is little fraternization. Most races are more likely to kill each other than sell each other door knobs. To me, that feels more like old D&D, but perhaps that was just my pre-teen take on how such a world would be. You know, dwarf-lords in their halls of stone - and all that jazz. You can click on the map down there and it should pop up a bigger one with my nasty chicken-scrawlings more visible.
The idea behind this campaign is that in the past, there was a devastating war lasting thousands of years between the forces of Law and Chaos on the continent. Some humans escaped it by sailing to distant islands and hiding. Chaos won, but Chaos doesn't tend to maintain roads or stabilize local governments or anything useful like that, so everything fell apart.
A thousand years later, these islander humans - all pumped up on the religion of Law - come back to the continent to rehabilitate it. Five hundreds years after the first colony was built, the humans are still having a hell of a time keeping order. Boat crushing sea mosnters, hordes of goblins and orcs, pissed off elves, grumpy dwarves, rabble-rousing halfings, blight-ridden lands, evil high priests, cannibalistic necromancers, and mysterious slavers from the west tend to get in the get in the way of organization.
Who you gonna call?
Enjoy the rough, raggedy map. I'll be focusing in on the central area and developing a hopefully worthy campaign soon.
- Ark
Sigh.
So, moving right along, I'm working on a world that supports the classic D&D feel. I'm having to scrape 4e thoughts out of my mind. Little things like elves being short little dudes that live over 1,000 years, instead of being human sized with 300 years lifespans - these differences really matter. The continuity of elven culture would be much more pronounced. If you can go ask great great uncle Ed what life was like 1700 years ago, well, chances are that kind of society would change very slowly.
Fourth Edition also harps on the fact that the different races are all mixed up all over the place - so while there might be more humans in general, every little village will have some dwarves making swords, halflings hanging out around the tavern, and the ubiquitous half-orc down the road selling doorknobs, or some other stupid things. Blech.
I've made a rough draft of a map for my new campaign. I've marked areas where different races hang out and there is little fraternization. Most races are more likely to kill each other than sell each other door knobs. To me, that feels more like old D&D, but perhaps that was just my pre-teen take on how such a world would be. You know, dwarf-lords in their halls of stone - and all that jazz. You can click on the map down there and it should pop up a bigger one with my nasty chicken-scrawlings more visible.
The idea behind this campaign is that in the past, there was a devastating war lasting thousands of years between the forces of Law and Chaos on the continent. Some humans escaped it by sailing to distant islands and hiding. Chaos won, but Chaos doesn't tend to maintain roads or stabilize local governments or anything useful like that, so everything fell apart.
A thousand years later, these islander humans - all pumped up on the religion of Law - come back to the continent to rehabilitate it. Five hundreds years after the first colony was built, the humans are still having a hell of a time keeping order. Boat crushing sea mosnters, hordes of goblins and orcs, pissed off elves, grumpy dwarves, rabble-rousing halfings, blight-ridden lands, evil high priests, cannibalistic necromancers, and mysterious slavers from the west tend to get in the get in the way of organization.
Who you gonna call?
Enjoy the rough, raggedy map. I'll be focusing in on the central area and developing a hopefully worthy campaign soon.
- Ark
Friday, January 28, 2011
Card Pimps
I shouldn't be surprised, but I seeing it here in print is like a smack in the face. The LIVING FORGOTTEN REALMS® CAMPAIGN GUIDE Version 2.0 includes the optional use of Fortune Cards. This is not the option of the DM - no - it is the option of the players. You build your 'deck' almost like a Magic the Gathering deck. Surprise surprise. "You may have no more than one copy of any individual card (by name) per 10 cards in your deck." Per 10 cards. Multiples of ten. They come it packs of 8. So they are like hot dogs and hot dog buns - they don't match up in count. Great.
"You must have a minimum of 3 cards of each type (Attack, Defense, Tactics) per 10 cards in your deck." Oh just peachy. If the booster set you buy doesn't have the right mis of types, you must buy more. AT 50 cents a card.
THERE IS NO LIMIT ON YOUR STACK. You could have 180 cards piled up on your character sheet.
I could go on quoting the new rules, but I would vomit all over my keyboard. It would be bad enough as a DM running a home game to suffer though the whines of the players begging to use the cards. But in RPGA play - everyone can use them - which means that everyone will. Except the poor shmuck in the corner without enough cash. That little bastard has the fact that he can't afford it ground into his face.
I should stop before I start cursing.
Damn I'm pissed. I'm going to go chew my leg off to calm down.
- Ark
Thursday, January 27, 2011
More Impressions - Labyrinth Lord
I have this unstoppable habit of spelling it LABRYNTH or
LABIRYNTH. I blame Sir Arthur
Evans. For many years, I devoured
anything I could find on the ancient Minoans and Mycenaeans. Good old Arthur, who dug up the palace of
Knossos on Crete, felt that there was a connection between the
"laBYRinth" of Minotaur fame, and the double-sided axe, or
"laBRYs." Other people thought
he was stark raving mad. You see my
confusion - BYR vs. BRY. Sir Arthur
brought the word “labrys” into the English language. It has haunted me to this day.
In a previous post, a reader mentioned that Labyrinth
Lord had helped clear up past confusions with the classic game, echoing my
initial experience with Proctor's work.
I wondered why that was. Was it because
the writing was just clearer?
I pulled up a, er, up, copy, of both Holmes and Moldvay
and read sections of them that corresponded with Proctor. I can't say that one was clearer than the
other two. Holmes may have been a bit
less concise, but Moldvay was equal in brevity and getting to the point.
One factor that did strike me was layout. Labyrinth Lord uses fonts and spacing and
table format that is much more comfortable on the eyes and does not create a
clutter that interferes with getting the data into my head. It looks more modern with the standards that
Word and HTML and Adobe has made us conform to. Perhaps it's not better, but it's more modern
and what we are used to.
A bit of thinking about it lead me to a theory. The difference was me. The distance from 11
to 41 is a long one. I didn't understand
a lot about the game back then. But
honestly, I don’t think I gave them much of a chance. I packed my bags and ran off to AD&D as
soon as I could afford the hardbacks.
Then yeah, whammo. AD&D was
some tough stuff. Rules that I didn't
understand got rewritten on the fly into something that I and the other players
understood and could work with. I didn't
try to make the game work as written.
Since 1981 I've run 30 or 40 different rule systems - and
read a lot more. With 4e I sat down and
read and read and read the rules and discussed them with the players and we
hashed them out until we were playing RAW.
For a whole year I refused to 'fix' any rule, since I wanted to know
fully that I was running it right before I started tinkering with it. When I did start changing things - rewriting
monsters and adding critical hits power-ups and adjusting some magic items - it
rarely felt okay. I would change one
thing and another part of the game would suffer. It was like a house of cards with me
scrambling around under the foundation trying to keep the mess from toppling.
Classic D&D was never sacrosanct. Rules went in and out all the time, sometimes
multiple times in a single session.
I took another gander at the DMG. Back then it kind of hurt to read. Thirty years later, old Gary still hurts my
head sometimes. Read NON-LETHAL AND
WEAPONLESS COMBAT PROCEDURES. No,
really, read it. Here, I'll give you a snip-it:
![]() |
| This is not me - just a radioactive zombie who looks like me. |
"The base score on percentile dice is opponent AC
value times 10 to arrive at a percentage chance to hit, i. e. AC 10 = 100%, AC
9 = 90% . . ."
Um, Gary, dude, I kind of get it, but why did you invent
an entirely different game to slug some zombie in the face? Playing with Gary as DM - sure - that would
be completely awesome. But an 12 year old trying
to run a game like that? Yeah,
right. Well, I guess it was supposed to
be ADVANCED, right?
I thumbed through OSRIC to see if my bearings were
straight. Yeah. They were.
Those rules are hefty. It's not just
a matter of how they are explained. They
sure are a THICK CHUNK to try and cram into your mind.
Labyrinth Lord is that simplicity that I rejected as a
young man because I wanted to be and adult and be smarter than everyone
else. Cripes, I took physics and calculus
for fun too. I wanted to be ADAVNCED -
even if I had no clue what that was.
Digging through the Advanced Edition Companion I see a
completely different idea going on. It's
Moldvay with Advanced sprinkles on top. Really
– very similar to the way I used to play it.
I think that is pretty nifty. It’s
not just a Xeroxed clone. It’s a clone
of the spirit.
I need to find this Daniel Proctor guy and shake his
hand. I suppose instead, I can just
Google him right now though. If only he
wouldn’t have called it Labyrinth Lord.
Something I could spell. Like
Crypt Commander. Or Trench Titan. Or Hole Hero.
But I Gary used tons of words I couldn’t spell either, so I guess nomenclature
legerdemain is something game designers revel in.
- Ark
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Chekhov's Can of Soup
My son has been home sick for the last few days. He's a pretty social kid, and he was beginning
to go stir-crazy. After work today, I
noticed Denis the Fighter under some papers on my desk and asked the boy if he
wanted to finish buying equipment and filling out the rest of his sheet. He looked about as excited as I am
confronting 1040 Full Form Income Tax Return - but said yes.
After settling on the banded mail, shield, and long sword
(who needs the rest of the stuff?) we moved to the Saving Throws. He looked confused.
"You know that roll you make when you get flung off
a cliff or . . . well . . . when anything strange happens and you have to roll
a 10 or above?"
"Yeah," he said, eyeing the chart full of
numbers.
"Well, that's kind of a dumbed down version of the
classic Saving Throws. Some things just
hit. A dragon shouldn't have to roll to
blast you. If you just stand there, you
are toast. It's up to you to pull
yourself out of the frying pan. Or to
not look at the medusa. These are the
numbers you have to roll."
"Oh," he nodded. He did a few test rolls. Poor Dennis would have been a burning,
petrified, poisoned, dead Fighter. My
son frowned. We moved on to Armor Class.
"So when did AC stop being upside down?"
"Um, Third edition, I've heard. Want to see how it
works?"
"Sure."
"Okay, let's see," I opened to the monsters and
immediately saw the entry for Zombie.
"So Denis is in the dark labyrinth with his sword and, um, well, he
probably would have brought along a torch too in his shield hand. And suddenly, a zombie jumps out!"
His eyes widened.
"I stab at him!" My son
arced his arm over his head and I leaned back just in time to avoid getting a
broken nose.
"Okay, get a d20 and roll to hit."
He dug for his special multi-colored lucky one that he
loves, except when it rolls low so he has to give it a stern talking to.
"Do I hit?" he asked, pointing at the 15 on the
die.
I shrugged.
"You tell me. His AC is
8." A quick explanation of the hit
chart and he was all like . .
"Booyah! Now
damage," he understood that one pretty well. "Okay, 6 plus my strength bonus is
7. Does that kill him?"
"Dunno. Let
me roll his hp." Before he could
even ask, I pointed at the zombie entry. "See, he's got 2 hit dice. That's like levels. So I roll 2d8 for his hit points. No one just a a flat amount of hp around here. There we go - nine hit points. So your sword sends chunks of rotting flesh
flying, but your zombie friend is still standing andis looking to get his dance
card punched again."
My son has learned over the years to ignore most of the
bizarre, out of place things I say and distill it down to what matters.
"I HIT HIM AGAIN!"
"Hold up - he attacks you. Oops.
He swings his rusty sword over your head. It would be quite a refreshing breeze if thick puss wasn't oozing from his eye sockets."
"I HIT HIM AGAIN!"
"Hold up - initiative." He grabbed his d20. I shook my head and pointed to the d6. He rolled a 6 and the zombie a 1.
"I HIT HIM AGAIN!" he pointed to the 11 on the
die and on the Attack Value Track.
"See! Three points. He's dead!"
"The zombie explodes like a can of Campbell's Chunky
Sirloin Burger with Country Vegetables put in the microwave for 30 minutes."
"EWWWW!" he said, and went on the clean out the
next eight rooms in the impromptu dungeon.
The two lizardfolk at the end gave him some trouble, but Denis the
Fighter came through with his scalp intact.
A great big smile was on his face. "That went by so fast. It would have taken forever with
Essentials."
I grinned. "And where were all the minis?"
"In here." The pointed to his forehead. "I imaged the whole thing. Denis has great big muscles."
"So did you like it?"
He nodded it the excited way he does, slapping his chin
on his chest. "And, um, I was
wondering. If I'm sick tomorrow, can we
play a whole adventure?"
I imagined spending the day throwing the bones and
chasing my son around in his mind with beasties and wicked bear traps. It sounded really nice. But suddenly I had to be the Dad. "I don't think you are sick any
more. And even so, I still have to go to
work."
He looked down and sighed.
"But since you've been sick, I haven't signed us up
yet for the RPGA games yet this weekend - and they are pretty full. Why don't we stay home this weekend and I can
take you through something." I
glanced briefly at the purple module on my desk that had just arrived in the
mail. Keep on the Borderlands
winked back at me.
"I'd like that." my son smiled.
“Me too.”
- Ark
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