The first volume of the Coldfire Trilogy, Black Sun Rising is a book which I originally read in high school. I was captivated by the cover art by Michael Whelan (I very clearly remember seeing the slightly beat up hardcover copy at the local public library and knowing that I just had to read it). Rereading, I see that BSR has had a far larger impact on my gaming taste than I had previously thought.

The plot is not the strongest and the characterization is only okay, but where this novel shines is the setting, which seems almost tailored for a D&D type game, and in a way that does not seem contrived. Just for one example, in traditional mythology vampires fear running water. That just falls naturally out of the setting, along with many other such features. If you don’t like overly systematized fantasy, the Coldfire Trilogy might not be for you, but I would suggest that systematized settings are exactly what are needed for a fantasy game. But enough about generalizations; what makes the setting special?

The setting is hard science fantasy in the sense that the world is expected to conform to the laws of physics and is explicitly set in the far future; the characters are the descendants of Earth colonists on an alien planet. The “magic” is a property of the planet Erna which exudes an energy called “fae” naturally. The fae comes in several different variaties, the most common of which is called earth fae, which humans can “Work” in order to create magic-like effects. Additionally, there is tidal fae (protean, unpredictable, lunar, unworkable by humans), dark fae (which waxes in the absence of light), and solar fae (which is not explained in much detail but is associated with sunlight somehow). The earth fae is connected to geological dynamics, and flows strongest in fault lines between tectonic plates. Sorcerers that try to work the fae when an earthquake hits get their mind fried (and Erna is very geologically active, so this is a real and continuous danger). The fae has inspired a number of my recent chaos magic posts (the parallels between manipulating chaos and working the fae should be clear, though I would hope to present chaos more mythologically).

There are two main protagonists, Damien Vryce and Gerald Tarrant, who end up working together despite being polar opposites (the contrast is obviously supposed to be the primary thematic tension of the series; the idealism of Damien the priest and the ruthless pragmatism of Tarrant the sorcerer). Damien is probably the most cleric-like character in any fiction I have read (perhaps to an even greater degree than characters in TSR setting fiction, surprisingly). He’s a tough priest that belongs to an order of church demon hunters that believes in working the fae despite the fact that church doctrine opposes sorcery. Damien partly inspired my recent church sorcerers post.

The fae is not just power though; is is psychologically reactive. The fae gives flesh to the things that people fear, and such faeborn creatures feed on human emotions. Thus, the planet Erna creates the monsters of human myth. Such monsters are most powerful at night, and are mostly unable to threaten people during the day. They are also weakened by deep or flowing water (alluded to above) as that acts as a buffer around the earth fae. Friedman describes how fae-wraiths cluster around the walls of small settlements at night, trying to get in but being repelled by wards designed to keep them out. It’s perfect for D&D, and something that I have been using for as long as I can remember myself, though I may have originally gotten the inspiration from reading this series way back when.

Despite the rationalization and explanation of the magic system, the actual effects which characters generate with the fae are mostly rather subtle. There are few fireballs or magic missiles being hurled around (though Tarrant does engage in some rather dramatic coldfire displays in some parts; he is somewhat special though, for reasons that I don’t want to discuss here lest I spoil the plot). Instead, most fae workings are concerned with information, and are essentially “Seeing” the fae (being able to get information is also controlled by the direction of the flow; if someone is “upstream” from you, more information is available). There are also Healings, Wardings, Banishings, and many other kinds of working. Additionally, some people, called adepts, are born with fae-sight. Essentially, natural born sorcerers, whereas most people must learn how to see and manipulate the fae in a more academic manner (a virtually perfect mapping to the wizard/sorcerer dichotomy in D&D).

I feel like I could go on and on about how many of the setting elements harmonize so perfectly with the assumptions of D&D. The monotheist-style church trying to bring law through faith to the chaotic wilderness, struggling against fae-born godlings which also have their own “pagan” worshippers. But the power of the planetary fae gives these things real corporeal power. It ends up feeling a bit like a less solipsistic version of the World of Darkness Mage setting, where the nature of reality is determined by what people believe. Complicated technology (like guns) are less reliable because people do not completely understand the mechanism and fear that it will not work (and this fear is made into real danger by the fae). Once the original colonists had landed on Erna, they were stranded because their own psychology prevented their advanced technology from working reliably. It’s such a wonderful justification for a world full of adventure and danger.

The God That Crawls LotFP module

The short review: based on a read-through, this is one of my favorite Lamentations adventure efforts, probably right below Tower of the Stargazer (my favorite) and Death Frost Doom (my second favorite). I was hoping for a “weird” take on a more traditional fantasy dungeon adventure (with factions and tent pole potential), and that is definitely not what this module is. However, it is a very ambitious attempt at tacking something else that I am very interested in: making exploration time (as a cost) the centerpiece of a scenario. The layout and physical appearance is among the best that LotFP has produced to date. I love the slight fade to gray around the edges, which makes every page almost seem to glow. The standard LotFP digest size also makes the PDF convenient to read on a tablet. The art is, however, not up to the standards of releases like Carcosa or The Monolith From Beyond Space and Time (though it is by no means bad). For the long review, with spoilers, continue beyond the period tower.

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The setting and atmosphere are historical, but in a way that should be easy to incorporate into many fantasy settings. A saint has been corrupted in the past and transformed into a terrible monster. However, the village populace still believes that the creature is somehow holy and seeks to protect it and hide it from outsiders. It’s also part of a higher-up church conspiracy (or at least some church superiors know about the cult and seek to keep it secret if for no other reason than to protect the reputation of the church).

I really like the main adventure hook. Though it likely traps the PCs in a bad situation, it is entirely opt-in. That is, players are going to be drawn in by their own curiosity (rather than railroaded into the adventure), and there are many possible approaches. Minimal investigation could easily reveal warning signs that all is not right, but I suspect most players will not question the hook. This could be an issue in a campaign where players do not decide which leads to take, but it should be fine for either a one-shot or an extended sandbox game. This also means that if players are smart and come at the adventure from an odd angle, or wait until they are powerful enough to challenge the god directly, they should not be penalized.

Also, questioning adventure hooks is a matter of player skill, in my mind — players should always worry about being used as tools by NPCs for unwholesome ends. It is also possible, through skillful dungeon play, to come out ahead in the end, though I would consider the scenario as a whole to be difficult and potentially punishing. There’s nothing wrong with that for players that are up for a challenge though.

The map itself looks like it might be one of the few labyrinth style dungeons (maze of twisty little passages) that I think might be fun to play through literally and diegetically, mostly because there are so many interesting (if a bit arbitrary, sometimes) tricks scattered around for players to interact with. There is enough variance to keep the areas from feeling too similar (and much of that variance is not merely cosmetic; it also contains real clues). The decision to use one powerful monster as the tool of time pressure rather than an arbitrary number of wandering monsters is interesting and thematically sound (horror stories are much more likely to have one horrible creature stalking the protagonists and getting closer and closer, rather than patrols of orcs or whatever). The time spent reaping the potential module rewards (which are real) directly increases the chances of encountering the god — which is old school dungeoneering reduced to its essence.

LotFP modules are sometimes criticized for only having “screw you” magic items. There are certainly a few problematic items in TGTC, but there is also plenty of treasure that has no strings attached (as described above, explicit risk versus reward is the major design principle of the dungeon). Further, the items with drawbacks are interesting and seem like they might lead to some fun play without just punishing players for interacting with weird elements. I like the book and its new spells, though it would probably require several readings to really understand how to run it. The chariot has some silly player-dependent mechanics (including the painting of a player nose — but those are easy enough to ignore). There are also a few items that have interesting effects but perhaps lead to outcomes that are a bit to final for my taste (such as “I am the gate”) which I would either excise or tweak slightly.

One of the most valuable aspects of this module is that running it successfully seems like it would require a mastery of movement rates and encumbrance. That may sound tedious (or trivial) but stay with me here. The game part of the dungeon revolves around the trade-off between spending time (and making noise) breaking open sealed treasure caches. The time and noise made increases the probability of encountering the god, which is probably too difficult to fight, which means that PCs need to flee if they want to survive. If you can run this module successfully, you should be able to run chases and pursuit in any other dungeon context. Thus, The God That Crawls makes for great practice regarding an important referee skill that is not (in my experience) used as much as it should be.

Overall, this looks like an excellent module, both as a fully realized adventure locale and as a source of ideas to insert into other dungeons (especially the numerous tricks). I think it will require some effort to prepare and run successfully, but I bet that anyone running it will end up as a better referee for doing so.

A Close Call (from Wikipedia)

So if the saving throw is really just a shorthand for level, a reward for extensive successful play, why do we need another number at all? Maybe Swords & Wizardry doesn’t go far enough with its single saving throw. Why can’t we just use the level directly? As frequently noted, I really like saving throws (see here, here, and here). Seriously, why am I writing this? The save system is maybe the least perverse part of the traditional game. Anyways, I have these ideas in my head, so here I go.

There are a few problems with using level directly. For one thing, saving throws shouldn’t be too hard at first level or too easy at high levels. In the original game, a fighter has to roll 12 or higher at first level to successfully save versus death. A beginning magic-user has to roll 15 or higher to save versus spells. The endgame saving throw target numbers range from 3 to 8, depending on category and class. They cluster around 5. These probabilities should be our guidelines.

In discussion on G+, Lance T. pointed out that Searchers of the Unknown does something very similar:

Saving throws: when such a roll is needed for any reason, roll 1d20 under the character’s level, +4. So 7th level adventurer must roll under 11 to escape a magical charm from a harpy. This “level+4” rules apply to every other action which aren’t covered by the “stealth & stunts” rule, but fits the common adventurers knowledge like searching for secrets doors or picking locks.

That’s good, but the magic constant of 4 is aesthetically unappealing. Also, as written, at high levels the saving throw becomes either 100% or 95% (if 20 is always a failure). I think more risk should remain at high levels. Like many D&D rules, it breaks down somewhat at high levels. It would be nice to avoid that.