Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Joan Crawford Has Risen From The Grave

It's that time again - time for Zombie Walk Dallas!  Last year a couple thousand of us descended upon Deep Ellum in Dallas and took over a few city blocks, eating brains, attacking ambulances and smearing public transportation with blood - all without a permit.  You know, fun for the whole family.

This year, we apparently have a permit - which, I know, I know, sounds a little less exciting - but it does reduce the chance of being hauled off to jail for unlawful assembly.  I think the permit sounds good - because this year they are shooting for eight thousand undead.

I've been notified that I'll be manning a table for part of the walk.  I think there are some duties involved.  Helping people or something like that.  Not sure.  The only one I really remember is that I get to squirt people with blood.  Lots of blood.  Of course, the first thing that came to my mind was to run a Bloody T-Shirt Contest.  Or a few.  Yeah - it should be a fun day.

So, if you are in the North Texas region on October 15th, stop by and stagger around for a while.  I hear make-up artists and psychos with big vats of blood will be around to zombify you - should you be too busy to zombify yourself.

Catholic schoolgirls have thrown away their mascara
They chain themselves to the axles of big Mack trucks
The sky is filled with hurt and shivering angels
The fat lady lives! Gentlemen, start your trucks!
                  - Blue Öyster Cult, Joan Crawford

It's just like undead LARPing, except for, well, for the LARPing part.


- Ark

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

All Hail King Torg!

by John Kovalic - NOT ME!
Things have been getting too serious around the gaming table as of late, so we have decided to play some Kobolds Ate My Baby. Okay, honestly, nothing around the game table is too serious. We just want to be even less serious.

Crazy-ass Tim will be GMing. Um, I mean PureStrainHuman. Maybe I should stop calling him Crazy-ass - since he's my new GM, after all, so I must be all nicey-nice and stuff.  Okay - maybe not.   I've never played before, and expect my new little life to be short, painful, and messy.

I want to play King Torg's (All Hail King Torg!) club-footed inbred brother-in-law - thrice removed - Schmecky Encephalitis - the tribe's Keeper of Wisdom.  Wisdom, of course, being the pet-name of the gangrenous growth on Schmecky's left nipple.

The Boy is pondering what his character's name should be, but per him, it definitely will not be Herpederpalitis. He is leaning towards Roast Beef Sandwich (and his faithful companion Mustard the Fly.)  Yes, the boy was eating lunch when he came up with that. :)

Oh - The Boy would like me to let all of you know that he would like his weapon to be a blade of grass - but the GM may feel that such a weapon would be too powerful and ban it.  Such is the life of a kobold.

Fun Kobold quote of the day:
Kobolds worship VOR, the Big Red Angry God™, which is understandable; wouldn't you be angry if you were the god of the Kobolds?  The only thing that Vor hates more than a Kobold is a coward, which is why Kobolds are the most fearless of all the intelligent (and we use that term loosely here) races.  Ironically, the complete and total lack of a sense of self-preservation is the only thing keeping the Kobolds going - any other race would have packed it in a long time ago, given up, and faded into extinction.

- Ark

Thursday, September 29, 2011

Dungeonspiration: Nit-Picking

Sometimes inspiration isn't about developing strange new worlds, or totally radically adventures. Sometimes inspiration comes from getting the law books out and digging through case files for precedents, just like on Paper Chase . . .

I've been following the discussion over at Monster and Manuals - specifically Piledriving D&D and I Blame The Children; Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Declaring Actions Before Rolling Initiative, with as much interest as my sick, overworked brain has allowed.  One of the things that noism is talking about is missing out or forgetting important rules in Old School D&D - and the effect it has on the game.  One specific example is Declaring Actions before initiative is rolled.

That has been pressing on my mind for a while.  A few months into our Labyrinth Lord game, I noticed that the combat appeared a bit clunky, and that things that mattered, like spell casting, didn't seem to be going the way that they should.  I began to pay more attention to how I was running the combats and discovered the shocking truth - I was very sloppy about the whole thing - not enforcing any sort of order of sequence.  Over the past few months, I've been slipping order back into the combat sequence - at a pace that my feeble brain could remember - and it seem to be working well.

Except . . .

Except I've got this big block on 'Declaring Actions.'  It doesn't seem right.  And Declaring actions before initiative just seems downright crazy in the head.  Not nonsensical - just foreign - alien - aberrant - Cthullic.

Noism seems to think it works just great.  But then Zak piped up about how in the ConstantCon, nobody declares nothing in combat until their turn in initiative, and people seem to 'just do it' without a break in their stride.

The whole thing bugged me, so I began to delve into every Old Schoolish D&D version that I had in paper form (okay, I skipped Hackmaster, so sue me.)  I started to chart out their Combat Sequences, and dumped them into Excel.  While I didn't have the Holmes version to hand, I did take a peek at what Matt Finch had to say about it in Swords & Wizardry: Complete Rulebook, for some historical perspective.

Here is what I came up with:


B/X (B23-27)
BECMI (DMR22-24)
AD&D (61-84)
Distance Check


Surprise Check
Surprise Check
Surprise Check


Distance Check

Reaction Check


Declare Intentions
Spell Declaration
Roll Initiative
Roll Initiative
Roll Initiative
Monster Reaction / Morale Checks
Morale Checks
Encounter Reactions
Movement
Movement
Missile, Magical Device Attacks, Spell Casting, Turn Undead
Missile Combat
Missile Combat
Magic Spells
Spells and Magic Items


Closing / Charge


Set Weapons Against Charge
Melee Combat
Melee Combat
Armed Combat


Unarmed Combat
Rinse / Lather / Repeat for Next Group / Player
Rinse / Lather / Repeat for Next Group / Player
Rinse / Lather / Repeat for Next Group / Player
End of Turn
End of Turn
End of Turn




Labyrinth Lord (50-56)
Swords & Wizardry Complete (36-43)
LotFP Grindhouse (R&M56-62)
Distance Check
Distance Check

Surprise Check
Surprise Check
Surprise Check


Distance Check


Reactions
Movement / Action Declaration
Spell Declaration

Roll Initiative
Roll Initiative
Roll Initiative


Each Character Completes Their Actions One At A Time
Movement
Movement and Missile Combat
Missile Combat
Magic Spells
Melee Combat and Spells


Melee Combat


Rinse / Lather / Repeat for Next Group / Player
Rinse / Lather / Repeat for Next Group / Player
Rinse / Lather / Repeat for Next Group / Player
End of Turn
End of Turn
End of Turn


It appears that declaring one's actions wasn't what you did in early D&D.  After some digging in the Dungeon Master's Guide, I saw that you are supposed to declare spells before you cast them, but it wasn't very obvious.  If AD&D had more on declaring actions, I couldn't find it.  The first time I found a version specifically saying that Actions (Intentions) should be declared - all actions - and before initiative, was the BECMI version of D&D - which I don't consider as 'early' - more like mid-morning.

And that completely explains why it felt so strange to me.  My D&D track is Holmes->B/X->AD&D.  No declaring there, except for spells - and that's probably something I overlooked then.  For the most part, we were just chugging along with a B/Xish AD&D variant.

That also gets my head itching about why Labyrinth Lord, with it's hooks firmly set in B/X, pulled out a BMCMI combat sequence.  Odd. :)

Oh, and Holmes was a complete odd-ball, seeming to be a heck of a lot more like d20 in it's combat sequence.  No offence, doctor - none at all.  Before your time, you were.

Of course, I could be completely wrong with my analysis of the combat sequences - or my understanding of exactly what noism said or meant.  It was only a few hours worth of work, anyway.  But the exercise has gotten me very interested in WHY the editions picked the combat sequences they did.  I'd say that I'm so interested, I'm INSPIRED. :)

So, go pick an idea in role playing that always seemed kind of fuzzy - and go do some deep dive research on it.  You just might find a whole mess of interesting stuff you didn't dream of.  And who knows, your game might even be better for it!

- Ark

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Persuasive Writing

The boy had an assignment today in Language Arts - a persuasive essay. He chose to write about Dungeons and Dragons. It's interesting because, up until very recently, he preferred 4e over older versions of the game. Okay, well at least *I* find in interesting. :)


Why Old School D&D is Better than New School D&D

by The Boy

Old school D&D is more fun because you have more freedom to do what you want. It is much more simple and easy to play, and it is a fun challenge.

In old school you have more freedom to do what you want. You don’t need a power to jump on to a building. You do not need an ability to be able to climb an ogre and stab it in the head

It is a simple game to get started with. Just roll up a character and role play. If your character dies just make a new one. It’s NOT rocket science.

Old school is fun and challenging. You can have long games or cliffhangers. You can play for what seems like ages and not play for ten minutes. You can get confused between the real world and the game world.

Old school is simple, fun, and cheaper than new school so try it out today!


I am curious as to what the teacher will think. :)


- Ark

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Random Quotes from the Labyrinth Lord Game


"Hurry up!  Put on the ferret costume and dance.  There is money to be made!"

"I gather up the priestess' finger bones and make a pan flute out of them."

"Wait just a minute.  This is important.  Let me get the Zamfir video to play right."

"I hid in a bush all night in a puddle of my own urine."

"Hold on guys!  If we steal the bones, we loose the opportunity to surpise the door."

"I'm going to tea-bag the dragon with his buddy's testicles."

"I think I should really get some say in whether my character impregnated a horse or not."

"According to my calculations - given the xp value vs. damage output - orcs just really aren't worth attacking anymore."

"Are you kidding?  Why would I put my fighter on the front line when he has a sling?"

"What kind of thief are you?  You refuse to get anywhere near a trap!"

"So how does this guy have little folders with information on all of us?"

"My new family motto shall be Honoris causa in - Honor Within Reason."

- Ark

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Dungeonspiration: Crazy-Ass Tim

Ugh.  Over the last month, work has ground me down into a semi-lucid blob thing.  The extra work hasn't been any fun.  I'm still doing work - in hour 14 of today' workday again.  Of course, I'm salaried.  I've been worrying about the developers I manage too - which is an unexpected side-benefit of managing - worrying about people and hoping they will be okay under excess work loads.  My brain can barely form coherent computer code - much less find anything inspiring about the universe.

THAT'S WHERE TIM COMES IN!  Yay!  Tim is one of my players in the Labrynth Lord game I run.  You have probably read about him here.  He's Captain Chaos - the Eye of the MAELSTROM.  You know - that guy.

Tim has started a BLOG - From the Ashes.  Oh, and let's call Tim by his blog handle, PureStrainHuman .  I think a lot of you will get that reference.  If you don't, well, may you be visited in the wee hours of the night by Jim Ward holding a cricket bat.

So sorry, I can't lift a finger to inspire you today.  Dungeonspiration is exhausted mentally and physically, and still has many more hours of real life work crap to do.  But go visit PureStrainHuman. Say hello and go follow his blog.   He's pretty inspiring.  He has inspired the boy to create Chaotic Neutral Goth Halfling Sorcerers.  Wheee!

Brain hurts - must stop typing . . .

- Ark

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Dawn at Olympus


The child of morning, rosy fingered Dawn, crept across the sky in flickering curtains of gold.  She illuminated the mountain fortress of Olympus, which still echoed with the revelry of the night before.

" . . . and so I threw the Acropolis at him.  The whole Acropolis.  True story," mighty Zeus slammed down his goblet of ambrosia while the gods around the table laughed and slapped their knees.  At his right hand side, gray-eyed Athena sat, her chin cradled in her hand, trying not to yawn.

"Father," Athena whispered while the laughter continued, "It wasn't the Acropolis.  It was a whole mountain.  Mt. Etna.  Remember?"

Zeus didn't even bother to look at her.  "Details are boring, girl.  It's the delivery that matters."

"Whatever, Dad," she muttered.  Being the Goddess of Wisdom meant that she was constantly surrounded by idiots.  The grey owl on her shoulder nuzzled her neck, and hooted lightly into her ear.  Athena's eyes instantly shot wide open.  "Father, father, we have a problem!" Athena hissed.

Gray bearded Zeus just talked louder over her.  The son of Cronos was recounting the time he seduced the Spartan queen Leda.

" . . . since I boinked her as a swan, she laid an egg nine months later.  You should have seen her face!"

As Zeus recounted the tale, the banquet hall became quiet, too quiet, as they were not even laughing at his jokes.  It was an uncomfortable silence, and Athena tugged at her father's robes, clearing her throat.

"What is it, girl?" he looked down at her and thundered.

She raised a finger and pointed toward the entryway.  There stood Hera, wife of almighty Zeus, arms akimbo, tapping her soft sandal on the hallowed floor.

"Well!" the queen of the gods huffed, face red.  "I thought I would find you here, cavorting with these . . ."

"Hera, my beloved wife, what brings you here at this late hour?"  Zeus sighed.

"Late?" Hera puffed, "Late?  Dawn is outside and you call this late?  Oh no, husband, it is quite early!"

Zeus blinked, and then blinked again, unsure how to reply.  "Um . . ."

Hera pulled up the hem of her robe and marched around the table, toward Zeus' throne.  The gods around the table were silent.  Dark Hades stared at the floor and shuffled his feet.  Brave Ares picked up a knife and examined his reflection in the silver.  Watery Poseidon, master of the sea, god of horses, and the 'Earth-shaker,' picked up a salt shaker and tipped a few grains into is ambrosia, then watched as tiny bubbles floated upward to the surface.

"How dare you.  I have been scouring the surface of the Earth, looking for you!" Hera jabbed a finger in Zeus' face.

"Do not talk to the King of Olympus in such a manner!" Athena shot up out of her chair.

Hera glared at Athena.  "Hold your tongue, daughter!"

"I am no daughter of yours," Athena scoffed, "I was born, fully formed, from my father's forehead."

"Oh, you were born fully formed alright, right out of his giant ass, you little shit," Hera hissed.

Before Athena could materialize the golden spear into her hands, Zeus put his palm on the crown of her head and gently, but forcefully, shoved her down into a sitting position.  "Shh, little one." He then turned to his wife.

"If you would have checked the schedule, you would have known about the party. Right boys?" Zeus said.

"Of course," Hades replied.

"Been on the calendar at least a month," Ares nodded.

"The invitations arrived last week," Poseidon waved a brightly colored piece of paper with a weak smile.

Hera's stare bore down on the gods at the table and they all found more interesting things to look at, such as the ceiling, the wall, or an imaginary noise in the direction of the kitchen.  She whipped her head back to Zeus, jabbing her finger at him again.

"You've been at it again, and this time I have a witness!"

"I . . . I . . . no," the son of Cronos stammered.

"There is no talking your way out of this one. You are guilty, guilty, guilty!" she jabbed him in the chest.

"I haven't done anything, have I, boys?" he looked back at the gods, who were still busy examining things that weren't there.

Athena stood up, "Hera, this is hardly any way to behave to your King and husband."

"Shut up!" Hera and Zeus said in unison.  Zeus eyed Hera, and then turned to Athena.  "Listen pumpkin, Mommy and Daddy are having a grown up discussion, so go find something else to do."

Athena huffed and collapsed back into her chair, crossing her arms in a powerful pout.

Hera glared at Zeus, rage in her eyes.  "You've been cavorting around with a mortal woman!"

Zeus stared at her.

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

Zeus continued to stare.

"Well?"

"I'm thinking," Zeus, the aegis-bearer, yelled at this wife.

"You swore to me, you swore on your throne, that you would stop this obsession with mortal women.  No more stalking and raping them.  No more taking the form of an animal and surprising them in the shower!" she shook her fist at him.

Zeus took a deep breath.  "Lies.  All lies.  I have been true to you.  I have not touched a mortal woman.  Who is this witness that tells such falsehoods?"

"He is there," Hera pointed to the entryway.  There stood a form, bent over, hobbling with a cane, his face scarred.  It was Hephaestus, god of fire, patron of blacksmiths.

"Oh, I see you've brought your parthenogenetic son with you," Zeus smirked.

"Tell us, my son, tell us what you saw," Hera said as the crippled god finally made it within hearing distance.

"Um, hi Athena," Hephaestus' voice cracked as he made a little wave towards the girl.

She rolled her her eyes.  "Hello Hef."

"Get on with it!" Hera hissed.

"I'll report only what I saw, the whole truth," Hephaestus started.  "Three nights ago, by a pond, I saw a flaxen haired damsel by the name of Podarge remove her clothing for an evening bath.  Of course, I did not wish to be seen, so I hid in the bushes."

Zeus laughed.  "Can you really imagine gimpy here running around the bushes like a ninja?"

"Hush," said Hera.  "Let him finish!"

"So, the flaxen haired beauty entered the water, and lo and behold, what should I see but a huge glowing bull descend from the sky, his bovine member fully erect, and he ravished the poor mortal girl from behind," Hephaestus finished.  Hera turned to Zeus, arms crossed, a smug look on her face.

"Oh come on," Zeus said, "Does every huge flying glowing bull with a tremendous cock that anyone sees on Earth have to be me?"

"Yes," the whole room said in unison.

“You are not helping!” Zeus hissed to the gods at the table.

“Mother warned me,” Hera sobbed. “She said I should marry that nice Hebrew god down the road.  But noooo . . .”

“Ambrosia lips,” his voice softened, “That was me.  I was there.  But you’ve got it all wrong.”

“How?” she sniffed.

“I was there, yes, and I was buggering Podarge.  But Podarge is a boy.”

“What?” Hera gawked at him.

“Podarge was a boy,” Zeus nodded.

“But Hephaestus said . . .”

“She had breast!” Hephaestus piped in.

“The poor boy was fat.  It was a glandular problem.  You can hardly fault him for a medical issue.”

“But . . . but . . .” Hephaestus stuttered.

“Oh come on.  Who are you going to believe, me, or a gimpy god with only one working eye!”

Hera glared at Hephaestus.

“But . . .” Hephaestus said meekly.

Hera grabbed Hephaestus by the ear and began dragging the cripple towards the door.  “You brought me out here for a boy?  A boy?  You won’t be able to even limp when I get through with you!”

The cacophony of name calling and curses gradually receded in the distance.  Sighs of relief emanated from the table.  Zeus wiped the sweat off his brow and turned to his daughter.

“Thank goodness that is done with, Athena.”

“Yes, Father,” she sighed.

“Now I want you to go to the walk-in closet in my private room.”

“Which walk-in closet?” Athena cocked her head.

“The one with the waterfall and the forest.”

“Oh.”

“There are three mortal women in there, a blonde, a brunette, and a red head.”

“Dad!” Athena bolted from her chair.

“Take the blonde.  That's Podarge.  Feed her to a Cyclops or toss her into the sky and make a constellation out of her.  Whatever you do, keep it quiet, but get rid of her.”

Athena shook her head, sighing.  “Father, if you don't control yourself, you may, one day, be replaced with a god who is a monogamist.”

“Nonsense, my girl, nonsense,” Zeus laughed, mussing her hair.  “What kind of human would worship a pansy-ass god like that?”

Rosy fingered Dawn tiptoed across the palace and back down Mount Olympus, heading across the Ionian Sea to Italy, snickering silently to herself.

The End

[with apologies to Homer . . .]

- Ark