Loviatar 6 has three features: Hex 002 in what I am going to call the Haldane Hexcrawl and two sets of characters for other modern RPGs (Chaosium’s Basic Roleplaying and Vampire: The Requiem).

I’m going to talk about the hex first, as I am primarily a D&D player. This hex feels like it has slightly less content than Hex 001, and it doesn’t have any mechanical innovations like the hex reward from Hex 001. That being said, it does have a very interesting twist with some lycanthropes which can result in some dramatically different outcomes based on player choice. This particular encounter also got me interested in checking out the old basic D&D splatbook Night Howlers (no mean feat). I’m also really digging the small gods vibe. It reminds me of kami from Japanese mythology and Shinto. This is the perfect scale for divinities in a hexcrawl.

There is a gothic (in the sense of literature) undertone to much of Christian’s work. Little tragic vignettes that on the surface seem prosaic or even bland. A pig farmer’s cart. A homestead off the beaten path. What lurks beneath is dark though, and not in terms of monsters (though there are some of those). Instead, the darkness is often human darkness like a crime or a jealousy.

I also love how actions in one hex affect adventuring in other hexes. For example, some entries in the random encounter tables are shared, and if they were defeated before they won’t show up in the current hex. In these hexes there are encounters that I imagine players may not investigate thoroughly (or just miss). In those cases, it would be interesting to keep a running list of “open loops” and periodically update their status. This would mean that the course of the PCs would always have consequences, even if that course entails avoidance or ignorance. Loviatar 7 (which should be making its way toward me as I write this) is entirely dedicated to Hex 003, which I am looking forward too.

I wonder: might we ever see some Haldane underhexes? By underhex, I mean dungeon content of course. I think such a feature would make a great addition to a future issue of Loviatar.

Now a bit about the BRP and Vampire features. Both are essentially collections of modern NPCs detailed for systems I don’t use. However, both ended up being directly useful. The rat breeder in the BRP feature is going straight into my current D&D game. One of the Vampire characters (Terrance specifically) also gave me an idea. I haven’t worked much with explicit themes before in games. Vampire (the game) says it is “about” retaining humanity. But what does that really mean? I would argue that it means finding a way to maintain yourself while in a bad situation, often (but not always) of your own making. Thus, the change from being a human to the drives of vampirism. This parallels how bad choices work in the real world. In more extreme cases, this bad choice is something like getting involved with a criminal organization. Or it could be an addiction that sprung up from just one sampling (because everyone has illusions of control). Once you are in, it is much harder to get out.

I am not generally a theological person, but this strikes me as a good description of evil: short term gain with willful ignorance of longterm cost. The devil always offers power, status, and satisfaction. Temptation. At least to begin with. The true implications only become salient later, both from abstaining or indulging. Encounters with these sorts of consequences would be very interesting, and nicely sidestep common RPG challenges (direct problem solving, mechanical combat). Not that there is anything wrong with the common challenges, but you know what is said about variety.

This pair of novels arrived today (birthday presents). Both are from Appendix N.

The Shadow People:

THE INVASION OF THE HALLUCINOGENIC PEOPLE FROM UNDEREARTH!

The had existed from time immemorial, hidden in a space warp far beneath the surface of the earth. Until now, their only form of nourishment had been a strange hallucinogenic grain. Now, they hungered for human flesh. The earth was to be their stockyards and mankind their meat…

Sign of the Labrys:

Earth was a weird and dire place after the plagues. The few humans who survived could not bear the touch of each other; they lived in the enormous, endless caverns hacked out of the bowels of the earth for the bombs that never came.

Oh, and on the back of Sign of the Labrys we are treated to this charming advertisement:

It is easy to forget how much society has changed over such a short period of time (this book is copyright 1963).

Ian over at Magician’s Manse has an interesting house rule for healing:

Rerolling hit points at the beginning of each adventure represents healing. Roll all your HD, if the total is greater than your CURRENT hp, use the new roll. Otherwise, you current hp is retained.

This is a great rule and I am going to adopt it. This has old school pedigree: in Empire of the Petal Throne, hit dice were rerolled upon gaining a new level. Such rerolling has a number of advantages:

1. Simplified healing math: no need to bother with exact downtime
2. Healing and gaining a new hit die are mechanically identical
3. PCs are not stuck with low rolls forever (or even for a level)
4. It reflects variation in health and preparedness
5. Healing and recovery are diegetic explanations; this is not “just” a game mechanic
6. Promotes a reversion to the mean in HP totals
7. Record hit dice on the character sheet and hit points on scratch paper

See also:

• OD&D Discussion: Hit Points and my Limited Brain
• Carcosa page 5 (Dice Conventions)
• Philotomy’s OD&D Musings: Hit Dice
• EN World: Gary Gygax on rerolling hit dice
• The Yaqqothl Grimoire: Castle Doom House Rules (interesting idea here: survivors regain 1d6 HP after a combat; maybe change to 1 hit die worth of healing if damage was taken)
• Grognardia: Dwimmermount Campaign House Rules (has a similar “liquid courage” post-combat HP recovery rule, but only usable once per session)
• OD&D Discussion: In defense of the original HD system
• Aeons & Augauries: Healing and Hit Points

Twitter has this convention called Follow Fridays where people post links to other Twitter users they think are worth following. So here’s a few other RPG blogs you might be interested in if you don’t already know about them.

I have limited this list to blogs that have been founded relatively recently. I also added a short note explaining the first thing that comes to mind when I think about the blog (not intended to pigeonhole anyone).

1. Built by Gods Long Forgotten – awesome creative tables in pretty PDFs
2. Dungeon Fantastic – GURPS Dungeon Fantasy & classic dungeon design
3. From Beyond the Drowning Woods – detailing a weird fantasy setting
4. Giant Evil Wizard – old school creations
5. Howling Tower – Steve Winter (an organizer of 2E) on D&D game design
6. Lost in Time – beautiful maps, creative rules analysis
7. Tales of the Grotesque and the Dungeonesque – interesting creations
8. Tartarus Press – player from 2E investigating the OSR
9. The Aspiring Lich – interesting rules discussion
10. Underworld Cleaning Service – new classes, comparisons of old school rule sets

Can you remember any memorable fantasy gods? The only one I can think of right away is Lolth. Tiamat and Bahamut almost count, I suppose, but they are halfway between god and legendary monster. I also remember Corellon Larethian and Moradin, but other than being “the god of elves” and “the god of dwarves” neither of them are interesting in the slightest. Vecna is also memorable, if you want to consider him a god. Actually, mentioning Vecna, a commonality with Lolth becomes clear: both were developed actively as nemeses in play rather than as setting dressing.

What about Set, the serpent lord? The Set of the Conan stories is certainly memorable and interesting. Or Loki, from the Thor comic? Both of those examples have something else in common: they come from actual world mythology. If you’re going to have a god of the underworld, why not just call him Hades? Does it add anything to create a new god of the underworld named Zarfleglok that has a slightly different portfolio of divine aspects? Keep in mind that unless you have an abnormally dedicated group of players, nobody other than you is likely to remember your new god’s name anyways. I also like the idea of tying gods to specific polities, much like Yahweh is depicted in the Old Testament: the god of the Israelites. Baal is also shown as the god of a rival city-state. And the guardian of Athens was Athena.

Fantasy settings with direct knockoffs of real world cultures usually bother me for some reason, especially if there are more than one such knockoff within the same setting. A setting that feels vaguely Celtic is okay, but if there is a fantasy Japan next door and a fantasy Rome across the ocean it just doesn’t work. Something about that sort of juxtaposition takes me out of the setting. One exception to this is if there is some diegetic reason for the juxtaposition, such as a series of dimensional gates, or aliens that have transported Earth cultures to some strange world.

I realize this may just be personal preference, but I suspect there is something more general going on here. Perhaps it is some sort of cultural version of the uncanny valley: close enough to be recognizable, but not close enough to be captivating. I remember being strongly put off by the Belgariad by David Eddings for exactly this reason (though to be honest I don’t remember the details anymore) and by the Seanchan from The Wheel of Time (a thinly disguised collection of East Asian tropes). This was one of the characteristics of fantasy genre fiction that drove me toward reading history instead.

For some reason, however, the Conan setting of Hyboria works where these other settings don’t. This is despite the fact that there are many clear analogs, including:

• Nordheim = Scandinavia
• Iranistan = Persia
• Stygia = Egypt
• Black Kingdoms = Africa
• Khitai = China

And many others. I normally don’t like to quote Wikipedia, but in this case it is too good to pass over:

The reasons behind the invention of the Hyborian Age were perhaps commercial: Howard had an intense love for history and historical dramas; however, at the same time, he recognized the difficulties and the time-consuming research needed in maintaining historical accuracy. By conceiving a timeless setting – a vanished age – and by carefully choosing names that resembled our past history, Howard avoided the problem of historical anachronisms and the need for lengthy exposition.

Perhaps the problem is that some modern fantasy settings borrow from real cultures without acknowledgment. They have a totally made up map, but with various recognizable cultural signs scattered about that don’t quite seem to fit. Hyboria has no pretension to being an entirely contained and internally consistent mythos. More Wikipedia (same page):

The geographical setting of the Hyborian Age is that of our earth, but in a fictional version of a period in the past.

The map is also recognizably earth-like.

Now, I realize that some people may have their immersion interrupted by the use of real world mythology much as I am put off by culture juxtaposition as described above. I would point out, though, that most fantasy games import other culture-bound elements of real world mythology (dragons, hydras) without problems. Why is a hydra more at home in D&D than a ninja? I’m not exactly sure, but it does seem to be.

There is something else to say here regarding the ever more self-referential nature of Dungeons & Dragons, and how to combat it. (There are commercial reasons behind this too, as the invented mythology of, for example, Eberron becomes a property that can be controlled more easily than mythology with historical roots.) By drawing directly from real world mythology with no pretensions to complete world-building, one nips the canon-forming tendency in the bud and in addition makes the game setting more accessible to new players. It also works for a setting with a more monotheistic bent (and early D&D was implicitly Christian in many ways).

I am a recent convert to hex mapping. (Six mile hexes, to be specific.) It was not always so. In my earlier days of gaming, I would draw wilderness maps free-form on blank paper. I often included a scale, but rarely made much use of it.

However, there is another way to do it, which I have thought about off and on, and which has seen some interesting blog discussion recently. This alternate mapping technique employs locations and connections rather than literal space (for the mathematically inclined, this is basically a graph). For example, see this post over at Hill Cantons:

http://hillcantons.blogspot.com/2012/01/crawling-without-hexes-pointcrawl.html

And this example by Chris Huth:

http://elderskull.blogspot.com/2011/12/maps-crappy-edition.html

Doug over at Blue Boxer Rebellion has some useful techniques as well:

http://blueboxerrebellion.blogspot.com/2011/12/map-how-i-do-maps.html

He color-codes his zones by danger level (green – yellow – orange – red) and connection type (blue for water, brown for land routes). I think this would actually be a great idea for a player handout rather than a referee map, though I would use more evocative markers (such as “here there be dragons”) rather than color-coding. Doug mentions that using hexes is more realistic, but I don’t actually see them that way. A hex is really a node with six connections (edges) that can be scaled up or down (by creating sub and super hexes) in a systematic fashion. Hexes quantify something that is otherwise less defined. Hexes also give you a simple and objective answer to the “what do I see?” question, as they allow the referee to easily derive the viewable horizon.

I think there are two dangers with using point-based mapping rather than literal mapping.

1. Mechanics for getting lost are not as simple. In fact, other than rapidly improvising, I’m not sure how you can manage getting lost at all in a point crawl. Also, using hexes allows referee impartiality regarding location: you can just roll for it. In a point crawl, it seems like the referee needs to make value-laden (and potentially deadly) decisions. Compare that to the simple and objective rules from B/X (page X56):
   

   When travelling, a party can become lost. A party following a road, trail, or river, or led by a reliable guide, will not become lost. Otherwise, the DM checks each day, rolling a six-sided die (1d6) before the party begins movement. The DM then checks the chance of becoming lost of the appropriate terrain. If the number rolled is the same as those listed, the party is lost.

   If a party is lost, the DM may choose the direction the party moves in, or use a random die roll. The DM must keep track of the party’s actual position, as well as the direction the party believes it is moving.

2. The video game trap. By this I mean the increased chance that PCs will come upon certain planned encounters. I mentioned this in my comment on Chris Huth’s blog. Chris has some interesting suggestions in his comment response, but I’m still not sure exactly how I would work this in terms of concrete techniques, especially if I want to remain narratively impartial. I feel like I would probably slip into referee illusionist techniques (quantum ogres, etc). Maybe adding new nodes and connections on the fly is a skill that can be cultivated, much like dramatizing and detailing random encounters.

Though I say above that I am a hex-convert, that is not entirely true. In many locations, I do maintain a list of “adjacent” areas; that is, a list of places that you can easily reach (along with method of transport). For example, there may be a frequent caravan between two towns that PCs can purchase passage with. Such transport is not guaranteed to be hassle-free, but the chances of random encounters or other problems are decreased (and speed may be increased, depending on the mode of transport).

Also, if you haven’t seen Doug’s character creation as a dungeon, you are missing out. I am totally going to make one of these for my B/X house document.

A planet hangs motionless. There is no night and day, only dark side and light side, like the moon. Twilight is the space, rather than the time, between the two. On the west side, protected from the chill of space by a great shield, live the darksiders, whose myths are made of machines, and who die only to rise again in the Dung Pits of Glyve. On the east side, always in sunlight, live the daysiders, whose myths are haunted by demons, and whose power comes from science.

Jack of Shadows is the only Zelazny listed by title in Gygax’s Appendix N (and all in caps too). The Amber series is mentioned as well. Two themes stood out for me. The first is the idea of change, the second is duality.

Change. Consider the following quotes. Thus spoke Jack, page 17:

You are a daysider with but one life in you, and when that is gone, you will have no more. We of darkness are said not to have souls, such as you are alleged to possess. We do, however, live many times, by means of a process which you cannot share. I say that you are jealous of this, that you mean to deprive me of a life. Know that dying is just as hard for one of us as it is for one of you.

And on time and change (page 51):

I forgot how little time means to a darksider. The years mean so little to you that you do not keep proper track of them. You simply decided one day that you would go back for Rosie, never thinking that she might have become an old woman and died or gone away. I understand now, Jackie. You are used to things that never change. The Powers remain the Powers. You may kill a man today and have dinner with him ten years hence, laughing over the duel you fought and trying to recall its cause

I think this is an interesting template for faerie creatures such as elves. Unable to experience the world the same way a mortal limited by one life would. Unable to identify with loss and aging.

Duality. This reminds me of the law/chaos alignment dichotomy. The power of law (Dayside) is science. The power of chaos (Darkside) is magic. Which in turn reminds me of the ontological struggle between the magic-users and the Technocracy in Mage: The Ascension (I used to love that book, but never once played it).

Now a few bits of atmosphere.

A supernatural thiefly ability on page 101:

There was no trail and the last several hundred feet of the ascent required the negotiation of a near-vertical face of stone. As always, for the shadows were heavy here, Jack strode up it as he would cross a horizontal plane. 

What shall we call this? Shadow ascension? Or perhaps climbing shadows?

And dragons (page 110):

“I wonder as to the value of consciousness,” said Jack, “if it does not change the nature of a beast.”

“But the dragon was once a man,” said Morningstar, “and his greed transformed him into what he is now.”

“I am familiar with the phenomenon,” said Jack, “for I was once, briefly, a pack-rat.”

The plot reminded me of some strange mix of Neil Gaiman and something I can’t quite put my finger on. What is Jack? We never really find out. Is he a god of shadows, or just some powerful entity tied to them in some way? To be honest, it doesn’t really matter. I don’t need everything explained to me.

Those who have been thinking about mythic geography recently need to read this book, especially for the way it manages to blend dream logic, parable logic, and invented mythology. James from Grognardia described Zelazny’s style as psychedelic, and I have to agree, though this does not detract from the story for me.

The New Easy to Master Dungeons & Dragons was my first exposure to the D&D basic line. At the time, I was already quite into Second Edition (my gateway edition), so I’m not sure why I even had a copy of this. Maybe it was a present or something? In any case, it ended up being quite educational for someone who had never seen race-as-class or an unarmored AC of 9 before. I ultimately picked up a copy of the Rules Cyclopedia too, for the full experience.

Check out Zanzer’s Dungeon (from this site that is in a language I don’t understand). This was the map of the dungeon for the included beginning adventure. Looking at that map now, it’s a rather wacky design: basically a big spiral leading in to the prison cell where the (captured) PCs are expected to begin. Not much naturalism there. Also, I don’t remember where the actual entrance was supposed to be. Is there a staircase I am missing or something? Maybe it was the concealed door in room 33?

Not that I’m a stickler for logic or anything, but here’s a scenario idea for recasting this map so that it makes more sense. There’s obviously some mining going on here (see rooms 30, 31, and 32). Say the entrance (from the surface) is in room 28. Rooms on the right side (the mining side) are new construction. This would be everything on the right side of the corridors with rough walls. Rooms on the left side are ancient construction (a barrow reinforced with ancient spells and meant to contain an evil power). The center of the map (the “cell” that is room 1) should be recast as the demon containment unit. The rooms leading to it contain greater and greater guardians, intended to keep the ancient evil in and also to prevent evil cultists from releasing it. (Thank you, Glen Cook, for the Barrowlands inspiration.)

The new construction on the east side was started by a greedy merchant who either does not hold the old legends in high esteem, or does not care as long as he extracts the mineral wealth.

Further adventure hooks are left as an exercise for the reader.