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Dimensionality

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For Hexagram, after some consideration, I have decided to preserve the classic six ability scores, with normally distributed (that is, 3d6) ranges, though with decreased direct mechanical weight. The classic scores are easy to understand, provide enough dimensions to make characters seem unique, aid in developing a character’s personality, and provide a convenient resolution mechanic (the roll-under ability check) for many supplementary tasks.

Intelligence and wisdom can sometimes feel like they cover the same space, though. In the first version of the game, intelligence and wisdom were prime requisites (for magic-users and clerics, respectively) and gave a small bonus to earned experience for those classes. The only other effects were bonus languages from intelligence, and some loose roleplaying guidance. Thus, the only thing we can really say about these ability scores at this point is that intelligence has more to do with book learning and wisdom with spiritual connection (to deities, or perhaps the cosmos at large).

Moldvay (and, obviously, AD&D) started to attach more mechanical consequences to ability scores, and this expanded (or perhaps more thoroughly pinned down) their meanings. I’m not really interested in the complexity of AD&D ability scores (especially with the beginning of optimization tendencies associated with racial bonuses, exceptional strength, maximum spell level, minimums required for classes, and all that), so I’m going to stick with Moldvay for discussion purposes. Intelligence and wisdom maintain their experience bonus function as prime requisites, but wisdom also affects saving throws against magic (following the now mostly standardized +1, +2, +3 bonus progression). This already starts to create some extra confusion though. If intelligence is the thing used by magic-users, why is the save versus spells affected by wisdom?

For Hexagram, intelligence is intellect and rationality, while wisdom represents intuition, willpower, and magical acuity. As both spiritual and sorcerous archetypes walk down the path of wonder, wisdom is probably the ability score most associated with wonder workers, and gives a small bonus to saving throws versus magic. Intelligence helps with utilizing antediluvian machines (and more mundane devices, too).

The mental ability scores are further complicated by the player/character split. All tabletop RPGs that I can think of involve some puzzles that the player must solve independently of character abilities. There may be some aspects of the game that you can use mental ability scores on digetically (for example, an intelligence check to recognize the origin of an ancient inscription). This varies by edition and specific gaming group, but even Fourth Edition requires the player to reason about, for example, tactical positioning, which is almost certainly something that an 18 intelligence PC would be better at than the player. This is not a problem; if these things are games, there must be some way for the player to play them.

Further, one or the other scores often do double duty as a perception or situational awareness ability in games that don’t have a separate perception skill. It looks like Fifth Edition is going in this direction. I don’t believe this serves the game well, and in Hexagram ability checks are never used for gathering situational information. All obvious features are communicated directly by the referee. Locating hidden features, however, requires further explicit character action. I call this THE PERCEPTION RULE.

For example, if there is a room with a map concealed beneath a rug, the referee will only describe the rug. If characters do not look under the rug, they will not find the map. Players may also opt to perform an abstract search, at the cost of spending time (this often has potentially deleterious consequences, such as encountering enemy patrols, and so is wise to avoid when possible).

One common modification to the traditional ability score spread and paradigm is to collapse similar ability scores together. For example, to have a single body score in place of strength and constitution, or a single mind score in place of intelligence and wisdom. Microlite goes this route, as does X-plorers and Adventure Fantasy Game. One downside to this approach is that it can make different characters seem very similar to players that look to the numbers for some idea of what makes a given character unique.

Ultimately, many different levels of ability score resolution could work, and none will truly reflect the multifarious aspects of a fully realized person. For example, is it worthwhile to differentiate between bodily agility and manual dexterity? White Wolf games use a nine-fold division into physical (strength, dexterity, stamina); social (charisma, manipulation, appearance); and mental (perception, intelligence, wits). Skills & Powers (D&D 2.5) provides two subscores for each of the classic six: strength (stamina & muscle), dexterity (aim & balance), constitution (health & fitness), intelligence (reason & knowledge), wisdom (intuition & willpower), and charisma (leadership & appearance). Certainly, there exist real people with high intuition but low willpower. For my purposes though, I think the six-fold division strikes a nice balance.

Another common modification is to collapse saving throws and ability scores into a single system. There has always been some level of confusion over what exactly saving throws represent. Is a saving throw versus wands a dodge? If so, why doesn’t dexterity provide a bonus? Further, some early products used the term saving throw in a more general way, and allowed saves versus ability scores. In a game without levels, ability checks as saving throws seems like the way to go, but in a game with advancement, the saving throw has an important separate function, which is to reward successful play. You can’t just make a character with a high save versus poison (like you can potentially with constitution). You have to earn it.

Also, divorcing the saving throw from randomly determined ability scores is important to game fairness: remember that a beginning PC may have a constitution score of anywhere from 3 to 18 (if used as a saving throw, that’s a huge range of variation for surviving a potentially fatal hazard). That entire range should produce a viable and playable character. Saving throws even the playing field in terms of catastrophic risk, while allowing interesting character variation. If the game does not include the possibility of catastrophic risk, this is not a concern, but if it does, the game design of the saving throw is very important. Thus, ability checks cannot be used in place of saving throws. I call this THE SAVING THROW RULE.

One final cosmetic note. The original ability score order was strength, intelligence, wisdom, constitution, dexterity, charisma. The reason for this order is that the first three are the prime requisites, in the order of class importance, fighter being the default and most general class (strength), followed by the magic-user (intelligence), and finally the more specialized blend of the first two, the cleric (wisdom). As I’m not using experience modifiers by prime requisite, and am interpreting all of the ability scores more diegetically, the later physical / mental order is more appropriate (strength, dexterity, constitution, intelligence, wisdom, charisma).

My next post will cover more literally the ability score rules for Hexagram, and how ability checks work.

Hexagram Backgrounds & Rewards

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Proposition: character background is one half of something that is completed by game reward structure. The reward structure dictates what the game is about and what the characters are doing (e.g., recovering treasure, slaying monsters, etc). The background should be appropriate to (if not explain) why they are doing these things.

Background is often either ignored or hand-waved (“yes, yes, you’re the fifth duke of so-and-so, we’re going to kill orcs, get with the program”). That works well for some games, but if you want to include background at all it seems to make sense to have it work in service to the proposed future course of the campaign. Further, I think it would be interesting to make this more systematic, and have character background and reward structure all feed into the setting design procedure.

The traditional game is mostly silent about character background. Some editions have a “secondary skill” table which is basically a way to determine what kind of peasant or tradesman a character was before becoming an adventurer. That’s okay for determining what mundane skills a character might have, but it doesn’t really connect to the rest of what goes on in a game. I’m also not thinking of background here as a method to blend archetypes (as I think that is handled adequately by the path, prototype, trait features), though it can be used to justify such blending if desired.

In addition to setting the reward structure of the game (which is the primary system purpose), background has the secondary use of giving players a bit of information that can be useful for role-playing and have some diegetic consequences within the campaign world (the fifth duchess of so-and-so should have some knowledge about noble houses if she grew up with her family). Background can still provide minor mechanical resolution bonuses (+2 bonus to relevant tasks) and thus serve the same purpose as past profession or secondary skills. I was influenced by Jack Shear’s “leading question” background structure (see here and here), but have tailored potential options more closely toward particular campaign foci.

Here’s the default background table, suitable for treasure hunting and picaresque adventures.

OUTCAST BACKGROUNDS

  1. Bankrupt. Your business failed (due to incompetence or something else?) and you must now take up adventuring, perhaps fleeing creditors.
  2. Murderer. You killed someone in anger or passion, and ran rather than face justice.
  3. Antiquary. You are fascinated by the remnants of the past and obsessed with unearthing them. This obsession has overridden all past attempts at a normal career.
  4. Bandit. You survived as a parasite on society by waylaying others in the wilderness. Treasure hunting is a slightly more ethical (and potentially much more lucrative) alternative.
  5. Transgressor. You broke the laws of custom or purity. Was it forbidden love? Whatever the reason, you are no longer welcome in what was once your home.
  6. Deposed tyrant. You once had great power, but were overthrown (by the common people? or another lord?) and now have nothing but the equipment on your back.
  7. Burglar. You survived by stealing from those with more than you, generally by breaking into their abodes. The underworld is perhaps more deadly, but the payback is better and there are no guardsmen trying to throw you in jail.
  8. Instigator. You tried to change some aspect of your home or your society, but failed (for now). Did you fight against inequality, or perhaps for the honor of your caste, family, or tribe? In any case, you were exiled as a threat to the status quo.
  9. Survivor. You are the last of your town or family, the only one to escape some terrible disaster or disease. What caused the others of you kind to be no more? Was it due to the conscious actions of some other group or entity, or a natural disaster?
  10. Outlaw. You have been blamed for a crime (true or false?) and fled.
  11. Mercenary. You fought for those that paid you (perhaps as an adventurer’s retainer) and slowly accumulated enough money and equipment to be more self-sufficient. Who was your past employer? How do they feel about you no longer working for them?
  12. Slave. You were born into bondage (or perhaps kidnapped at a young age?). You escaped (or were freed). Does your past master still live? Are you hunted?
  13. Diabolist. You unleashed (or were blamed for releasing) a great demon. Did you do this on purpose or by accident? Was it a ritual you participated in directly, or was the demon released in some other way? Did you think you could control the demon?
  14. Farmer. You once tilled the land, but your crops turned to dust, either due to exhaustion of the land, corruption from some fearsome beast, or vile sorcery. Your family, if you had one, did not survive.
  15. Soldier. You were a professional soldier, but your unit is now disbanded. Was it destroyed in battle, or were you victorious? Why doesn’t your past lord require your services anymore? Were you good at soldiering?
  16. Orphan. You have survived on your wits alone for your entire life, living hand to mouth, but your ambition is boundless. It’s time to pull yourself up by uncovering the treasures of the past.
  17. Hunter. You survived on the edges of civilization by catching wild game and selling meat and furs. Your previous hunting grounds no longer provide the same bounty (why?) and you were forced to move on.
  18. Amnesiac. Your memory was lost (or stolen?) and you don’t know why. Your past is a blank slate. Is this a unique loss of memory, or part of some common pattern affecting many?
  19. Protector. You once were tasked with the guardianship of another. Were you a lord’s honor guard, a magician’s retainer, or something else? Your previous ward is, however, no more. Was it your fault?
  20. Apprentice. You once studied under a sorcerer, but now are on your own. Were you a failure at studying the dark arts, or are you now a journeyman, seeking the secrets of the ancients? Is your past master still alive, and are you on good terms? If so, the master may be able to help you from time to time, but may also want something in return.
  21. Surgeon. You once treated the sick, infirm, and wounded. That is, until a rich and powerful patient died and you were blamed, either for incompetence or intent. Who could you not save?
  22. Conscript. You once fought as a conscript in a war not of your choosing, and when you returned (if you returned), nothing was the same. Or perhaps you were originally from another land, but demobilization left you where you are presently?
  23. Ex-cultist. You once were part of a strange sect, but have since become disillusioned. Your previous home distrusts you because of your associations, but the cult itself is no longer your place either. What was the basis of the cult, and does it still remain? If so, how do they feel about ex-cult members?
  24. Exhumer. You released something that was once imprisoned. Was this a sealed crypt? Or maybe an ancient machine? Was the release accidental, or on purpose and perhaps due to greed?
  25. Daredevil. You do it for the excitement and the adrenaline rush. The treasure is incidental, an excuse and a method to fund future delves. Civilization does not provide outlets for your compulsions.
  26. Gambler. You lost it all. Maybe you still owe someone (or something) a great debt?
  27. Smuggler. You used to transport things (stolen goods? forbidden writings? slaves? intoxicants?) that people in power didn’t want transported. Your previous route is no longer open or profitable, for whatever reason, and the common trades are not for you.
  28. Compelled. Something that you don’t understand calls you to adventure. Perhaps it is just voices in your head, perhaps it is something deep below which has managed to find a way into your consciousness, or maybe it was the curse of a dying sorcerer.
  29. Con artist. You have pulled one too many schemes and need to skip town (again). Maybe you are tired of making your living off the gullibility of others, or maybe you just think the dark places will be more lucrative.
  30. Stranger. You are from another time or place. Perhaps you were locked in stasis and recently awoke. Perhaps you stumbled through a one-way cosmic door (was it a mirror? a portal? a machine that was meant to go both ways but failed?). No matter the cause, you are stuck in your present circumstances, a fish out of water.

The advantage to doing things this way is that it succinctly communicates the nature of the game while not closing off other potential game structures that may come into play later.

Short digression on Hexagram philosophy. I want to provide sensible defaults which fit the expectations of adventure fantasy gaming while making the different parts of the game (what the players do, what the referee does) fit together in the most efficient and effective way possible. You should be able to follow a checklist of things to do and end up with all the necessary things in place, even if you are unfamiliar with the traditional game structure. The system should also communicate the expectations to everybody involved. For example, the suggested procedure for referee prep will not include guidelines for heraldry if the campaign is about making the land safe for the living by killing as many zombies as possible (oh, and campaign focus can change partway through, and the game system will respond; more on that in a future post).

Okay, back to reward structures. Other possible backgrounds with associated reward structures include:

  • Curiosity: exploration, discovering new monsters, antiquities, mysteries
  • Slayers: destruction of a implacable threat (undead, demons, aliens)
  • Agents: missions, case files
  • Remnants: something was scattered that must be found (could be people)
  • Heros: rendering aid
  • Prophecy: the what is determined, but not the how or the who

Each one of those could have a table of backgrounds and guidelines for XP rewards, and may be mixed and matched.

I’m also thinking about presenting these parameters as explicit player game choices to be made at the beginning of the campaign, and as the campaign progresses. As in, everyone gets together and someone says, hey: let’s play an agents game. Shifting reward structures could also potentially be a player-initiated action. As always “player” includes referees, but using that particular word frames the issues in a way that invites player participation.

Lead Character Charisma

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I was recently browsing my copy of ACKS, and I noticed this passage about the impact of charisma on reaction rolls (page 99):

In cases where the reaction of the monsters to the party is not obvious, a reaction roll may be made. The Judge rolls 2d6, adding the Charisma bonus of the “lead” character (or applying his Charisma penalty) along with any other adjustments he feels are reasonable, and consults the Monster Reaction table below…

This is, of course, just the standard 2d6 D&D reaction roll (the best social mechanic in the history of RPGs). The part that stood out for me was the application of the lead character’s charisma to the check. For games with a Moldvay style ability score modifier, this would lead to an interesting trade-off, as the character with the highest charisma is unlikely to be the best frontline fighter. Do you want to expose a potentially more vulnerable character to frontal assaults in return for a greater chance at indifferent and friendly reactions? Trade-offs like this are what make the game interesting to me.

For comparison, here is how the D&D Rules Cyclopedia handles charisma and encounter reaction rolls (page 93):

After the first round, the DM should modify the 2d6 roll of the character talking for the group by the character’s Charisma bonuses or penalties. For the first reaction roll, the DM shouldn’t take Charisma adjustments into account.

So I think this “lead character charisma” thing is an ACKS innovation (please correct me if you know otherwise). Moldvay does not include any mention of charisma in his section MONSTER ACTIONS (page B24), though his section on charisma (page B7) does mention the applicability of charisma to talking with monsters (implicitly, this seems to agree with the RC version, that the initial reaction should not be modified by charisma):

The adjustment to reactions may help or hinder “first impressions” when talking to an encountered creature or person (see Monster Reactions, page B24, and NPC Reactions, page B21).

It’s interesting how many variations on this there are, even just within the original and basic D&D traditions. OD&D, for example, does not list charisma as something that should affect random actions by monsters. See The Underworld & Wilderness Adventures, page 12:

The dice score is to be modified by additions and subtractions for such things as bribes offered, fear, alignment of the parties concerned, etc.

As expected, the OD&D version plays down character attributes in favor of player skill and strategies.

For me, the ACKS passage brings to mind images of monsters slithering in the darkness of the underworld, but still fascinated by the otherworldly beauty or presence of some character like a bard, paladin, or elf. For some reason I find this compelling. It’s an interesting idea, though if followed strictly it might lead to characters with leaders that have 18 charisma (+3 in ACKS) never being attacked immediately by creatures that use the reaction table (some creatures, like undead and mortal enemies, are of course a special matter).

Another Approach to Races

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An elf? Image by Sidney Sime

Here is another way to do some classic fantasy races without relying on things like ability score bonuses (which are boring and lead to optimization). Ability scores are rolled using the standard 3d6 in order method, but one or more ability score (depending on race) uses 2d6 instead. This means that the average member of any non-human race will likely take a penalty in those scores, which is intended. Of course, the best approach to maintaining the weirdness of non-human races is to limit them to NPCs, but even I admit it can be fun to play strange races sometimes.

Elf. 2d6 constitution. Time flows differently in Fairy-Land. Elves are ageless, and will live forever unless they are killed by violence, though they must return to Fairy-Land periodically or become mortal (and slowly forget their memories of Fairy-Land). (Note that being ageless can be a real game benefit.) Some elves speek the languages of animals, and may select animal languages in addition to standard languages (if they have extra language slots due to intelligence). Fairy-Land is a dark mirror of the Sunlit Realms, and the two realities connect in many places. When exploring a wilderness hex, elves have a 1 in 6 chance per day of finding a shadowed glade or other location that exists in both realms simultaneously. Elves cannot abide iron, will not use iron weapons or armor, and take +1 damage from iron weapons. Elves begin with elf-metal weapons, and may acquire replacements in Fairy-Land. Elves bleed something strange.

A dwarf? Image by Arthur Rakham

Dwarf. 2d6 charisma. +4 saving throws versus poison & magic. Despite being creatures of Law, dwarves originate in the Underworld. When exploring a wilderness hex, a dwarf has a 1 in 6 chance per day of locating (or summoning) an entrance to the Underworld. Dwarves are the only race that can forge magical weapons (not sure how this should work, but it requires some other rules). Dwarves may create elf-metal weapons. Dwarves can smell treasure, especially gold and gems (thanks for that one, DCC RPG). Large creatures take -1 penalties when attacking dwarves.

Beastling. 2d6 intelligence, wisdom, and charisma. Servile by nature, beastlings are humans corrupted by sorcerers to serve as slaves and soldiers. Sometimes, beastlings are spontaneously generated by the concentrations of chaos. May not have retainers. Beastlings are ferocious and hard to kill, and gain a +4 bonus to death saving throws. In addition, they are never knocked unconscious, and instead fight on at 1 HP upon a successful death saving throw. They do not, in general, understand the concept of retreat and will not do so unless commanded by others. Free-willed beastlings only come about when their sorcerous creators are slain (or, occasionally, if spontaneously generated). They are not welcome in civilization and must conceal their nature or be driven away (at best). Evan over at In Places Deep has a nice beast-man post too.

Turning Variations

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Excerpt from Men & Magic page 22

To the right you can see an excerpt from the original turn undead system from OD&D. This basic idea has filtered down through all TSR editions, though it was finally replaced by the bland damage mechanic of Third Edition. The way this table works is really nice mechanically. As the cleric gets more powerful, more types of undead can be automatically turned or destroyed, but a random roll is still require to see if the more powerful undead are affected. As elegant as the results are, it still requires a table. Maybe we can approximate the table with a simple rule? It’s been done before, but here are some other approaches.

The original system works by having auto-turn (and auto-destroy) values based on cleric level, and then adding a bonus of 1 to 3 from a random roll. The percentages behind that random roll are:

  • 2d6, 7+ = 58.22%
  • 2d6, 9+ = 27.78%
  • 2d6, 11+ = 8.33%
So, considering the max HD of the affected target, rolling 7+ gives you one extra HD, rolling 9+ gives you two extra HD, and rolling 11+ gives you three more HD (corresponding to skeleton, zombie, and ghoul on the first level of the turning table). Yes, the HD equivalent is not perfect, but these monsters also have some special abilities and immunities, so the equivalency is good enough for government work. Quantifying undead by HD is pretty much what all the clones do, also.
The traditional turing table works out to this:
  • Max HD of undead turned = (level – 1) + bonus
  • Max HD of enemy destroyed or banished = (level – 3) + bonus
There are several different ways to calculate the bonus. The most obvious and traditional method would be to use 2d6 as described above and remember that 7, 9, and 11 are the magic numbers (corresponding to +1, +2, and +3). One could also translate the equivalent percentages into d20 terms, as Swords & Wizardry and Second Edition did. The idea I’m considering is making it a single d6 roll such that:

  • 4 grants +1 HD
  • 5 grants +2 HD
  • 6 grants +3 HD

This dovetails nicely with some other mechanics that I am considering, but it does still require remembering 3 arbitrary numbers.

The level – 1 is also a bit inelegant (and an extra, if simple, math step in the common case). What if we allowed anyone (non-chaotic) to attempt turning undead, assuming they had a cross? That would be “zero level” turning, whereas classed characters would add their turning level to the roll. It would fit the literature (after all, characters other than Van Helsing can use holy symbols in Dracula, if I recall correctly). I’m not sure if that steps on the clerics toes too much or not. Given my general approach to thief abilities (anyone can try, thieves are just better), it seems reasonable. It would mean that “first level” turning ability would start at the Adept level. Just an idea. Or maybe (level – 1) is not that bad.
Also, the number of hit dice affected can just be Nd6 where N is the cleric level. I think that probably works better than any other way of counting how many undead are affected. In fact, if we wanted to go really simple, and still preserve the basic idea, we could replace the whole system with rolling for the number of HD affected, but also assume that the max HD of any creature turned is N + 2, and that undead of N – 3 HD are destroyed outright. That would mean a character with first level turning ability would be able to turn away 1d6 HD worth of undead, of up to 3 HD each. This could still easily lead to failures at first level even though you always successfully turn at least 1 HD. For example, you could roll a 1 or 2 against a group of multiple single-HD undead.

Assuming you wanted to get rid of the lookup table, which approach would you prefer? Or do you have an even better idea? Or am I a heretic for considering doing away with the table?

It’s notable that most of the clones have decreased the power of turn undead, requiring clerics to roll for weak undead, even as level increases (though with lower target numbers). For comparison, here are excerpts from the Swords & Wizardry WhiteBox and Labyrinth Lord turning tables, which don’t give any automatic results until 4th level:
Labyrinth Lord page 9

Swords & Wizardry WhiteBox page 34

Peter Cushing’s Van Helsing (Grognardia)

Willpower in Traveller

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Advancement as happens in most other RPGs is very limited in classic Traveller. Improving abilities and skills happens during downtime in much the same way as during character creation: in blocks of 4 years. From Book 2, pages 42 and 43:

Limited personal development and experience is possible in the sense of increasing abilities and skills. Such potential for increases is possible in four specific areas, only one of which may be attempted at one time: education, weapon expertise, other skills, and physical fitness.

In each field, the character selects a four-year program of self-improvement, dedicating his or her endeavors in something like obsession, with the general goal of self-improvement. Because individuals do not always have the will to continue with such a program, there is the chance that the program will be planned, but never actually carried out. After the general field has been chosen, the character must make a dedication die roll.

A low intelligence actually aids characters seeking physical fitness improvement:

Physical Fitness: Because many individuals find a regimen of physical conditioning unrewarding intellectually, a dedication throw of 8+ is required (DMs of +2 if intelligence is 8-, and 4 if intelligence is 5-). If the throw is achieved, the character increases his three physical characteristics (strength, endurance, and dexterity) each by 1.

8+ is a 41.67 percent chance of success. I find this particularly amusing given my recently mentioned desire to start a fitness blog. (For the Traveller-uninitiated, DM stands for dice modifier.)

Blogging

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My first post on this blog was published August 21, 2011. So tomorrow is my first blogging anniversary. The first post was about a campaign called Blackwater Falls, which was one of the most successful games I have played in. That first effort has been followed by more than 300 others, and this blog has accumulated over 69k views; moderate success by the standards of our community, I think, but certainly way more than I expected! I had no intent when I began to produce anything so regular, and avoided the idea of a posting schedule intentionally, to keep fun high and pressure low. My only stricture was to try not to post more than once a day, to keep from flooding any potential readers and burning out my own enthusiasm (I have broken this rule once or twice, but only for minor things like links to other resources).

Sometimes I wonder about the effort involved. Blogging is not hard, especially compared to more systematic writing, but it does require an investment of time to get ideas into a form that can be consumed by others. However, I have found that this is a good way to figure out what I actually think about something. My first post drafts, which were never actually published, focused on the design of Fourth Edition, as that was what pulled me back into the hobby after a 10 year hiatus. Well, the edition itself didn’t pull be back in, it was more that 4E was the game my coworkers were playing. So my earliest posts were focused on explaining the ideas of class balance, roles, and power sources to myself.

As noted, those posts never actually got published, as I quickly realized that 4E catered primarily to aspects of the game that I wasn’t really interested in, despite having some innovative ideas (I still think, for example, that forced movement is something which could profitably be introduced to traditional D&D, without recourse to the grid or miniatures). By reading some blogs that focused on 4E, I discovered that other communities online existed dedicated to earlier styles of gaming, and slowly came to the realization that the OSR seemed to be more in line with my own priorities. As it turned out, many of the gaming practices that worked best for me back in my days of 2E gaming were cases of independently discovering things that the original game was designed around, but that were gradually sidelined or eliminated in later editions (and hence largely concealed from me during the 90s).

Despite that, I ran a hacked version of Fourth Edition D&D for something like 9 months, because the player interface was familiar to the people I was gaming with. It was fun. It gave me real experience regarding what “new school” D&D is good at, and what it is bad at. I’m glad, though, to be running and playing rule systems that are closer to my ideal now.

Engaging with the OSR and general gaming community via reading other blogs and writing this blog has been a very effective way of learning about gaming, and I often think I should apply the same strategy to some of my other hobbies. Specifically, I am pretty serious about weight lifting and fitness, and I think that fits the community reinforcement patterns present in blogging very well. I’ve been planning on starting up a fitness blog for a while, but have been hung up on picking a name (something that is always hard for me). I don’t just want to use a nonsense word like I did for this blog! (The story behind this blog’s name is that untimately is how I always mistype ultimately.) I’m also fascinated by economic history. Also blog material? How many blogs can one profitably have? That quote about serving multiple masters (Matthew 6:24) from the Bible comes to mind.

Blogging is also somewhat addictive. As fellow blogger Erik from the excellent blog/setting Wampus Country noted, the addiction of blogging comes from the continuous minor rewards of comment feedback. Should I be ashamed to admit that often the first thing I do in the morning when I wake up is to check my email to see if there have been any blog comments overnight? Intellectually, I know that comment volume is not a good quality metric. The kinds of posts that provoke the most comments are quite obviously not the best posts, looked at with any kind of objectivity. But that knowledge does not make the reward structure of our minds work differently. It’s the same thing that is behind slot machines and treasure drops in Diablo and World of Warcraft. Worth keeping in mind, I think.

If I had a single piece of advice for other bloggers, it would be to use writing about specific things as a way to get at a general idea. This is not based on a sense that what I am doing is the right way to do it, but rather on what I like to read on other blogs. For example, the Dwimmermount actual play reports on Grognardia are so good because they are not really actual play reports (which, let’s face it, are almost universally boring to read and are only useful as a record of happenings). Instead, they are investigations into how the elements of old school roleplaying work, with a mix of theory and examples taken from the session. Go back and read them some time, especially in chronological order, to see what I mean. Good literary criticism uses reading a novel as a vehicle to say something independently interesting. Similarly with any kind of discourse. I don’t always live up to this ideal, but I try.

So what do I see as the future of this blog? Well, I’m not sure. I keep thinking I should scale back my posts to a few per week rather than approximately daily, but then I worry that if I stop for a few days I may just never return. I would also like to occasionally delve into other games more deeply, especially Call of Cthulhu and early Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay, but I think I need to actually play them before I can do that. So I will probably keep on doing more or less what I have been doing. As my Vaults of Pahvelorn game continues, I would also like to start releasing some of my materials from that, along with continued musings on OD&D.

In addition, I have several other larger gaming-related projects that I am working on. I don’t like to talk much about projects before there is really something there, but hopefully these will progress soon to a point where I can start to talk about them without feeling like I am discussing aspirations as opposed to actual things.

Types of Ability Check

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There are two common ways to do ability checks. One is the old school “roll d20 less than or equal to” method that I will call “roll under” or RU in this post. In this method, rolling lower is better. The other is the new school “roll d20 add modifier and hit target number” method that I will call DC (for “difficulty class”) in this post. In the 3E DC method, higher is always better.

The two methods have math that is slightly different. Using the 3E DC method has a slight dampening effect, as all that matters is the modifier (for example, a score of 14 and 15 have the same modifier, and so characters with strength scores of both 14 and 15 have the exact same chances of succeeding on any strength check). It is worth noting beforehand that ability score modifiers are different in 3E than they are in traditional D&D. The Moldvay progression looks like this:

0 0 0 0 1 1 1 2 2 3

Whereas the 3E ability modifiers look like this (and extend linearly off into infinity):

0 0 1 1 2 2 3 3 4 4

Both RU and DC style checks can be used with either style of modifier progression. The table I have included below uses the Moldvay progression, but I don’t think the results are much changed if the linear 3E progression is substituted (you get an extra 5% tier on each end, because of the -4 and +4).

A flat RU check with no bonus or penalty is approximately equal to a DC 10 check. Modifying the difficulty of an RU check is usually done by rolling with a bonus or penalty. To compare the two methods, I have calculated percentages DC 5, 10, 15, and 20 3E checks and corresponding RU +5, +0, -5, and -10 checks. Thus, the columns should be compared pairwise:

  • Easy: RU +5, DC 5
  • Average: RU, DC 10
  • Moderate: RU -5, DC 15
  • Difficult: RU -10, DC 20
So, RU +5 and DC 5 are both “easy” ability checks. I used color in the headings to indicate which columns should be compared; hopefully it is clear. I have further colored the success chances in blocks of 25%. So, from 1% – 25% gets one color, 26% – 50% gets another color, etc.
Score Mod RU +5 DC 5 RU DC 10 RU -5 DC 15 RU -10 DC 20
3 -3 40% 65% 15% 40% 5% 15% 5% 5%
4 -2 45% 70% 20% 45% 5% 20% 5% 5%
5 -2 50% 70% 25% 45% 5% 20% 5% 5%
6 -1 55% 75% 30% 50% 5% 25% 5% 5%
7 -1 60% 75% 35% 50% 5% 25% 5% 5%
8 -1 65% 75% 40% 50% 10% 25% 5% 5%
9 70% 80% 45% 55% 15% 30% 5% 5%
10 75% 80% 50% 55% 20% 30% 5% 5%
11 80% 80% 55% 55% 25% 30% 5% 5%
12 85% 80% 60% 55% 30% 30% 5% 5%
13 +1 90% 85% 65% 60% 35% 35% 10% 10%
14 +1 95% 85% 70% 60% 40% 35% 15% 10%
15 +1 95% 85% 75% 60% 45% 35% 20% 10%
16 +2 95% 90% 80% 65% 50% 40% 25% 15%
17 +2 95% 90% 85% 65% 55% 40% 30% 15%
18 +3 95% 95% 90% 70% 60% 45% 35% 20%

This table should be read as follows:

  • RU +5 = add 5 to the score and then roll less than or equal to it on a d20
  • RU -10 = subtract 10 from the score, roll less than or equal to it on a d20
  • DC 15 = roll d20, add the modifier, and roll equal to or greater than

So what does this mean? The takeaway here is that DC checks have much less variance, and are thus less interesting in practice. They tend to be almost binary. That is, a DC 15 check is within the same 25% success bracket for all but the bottom 3 ability scores (that is what all that blue in the DC 15 column means). Compare to RU -5, which ranges from 5% to 60%, depending on character competency.

One last note. The Moldvay system assumes bounded ability scores, describing a population that observes the standard bell curve distribution (and races don’t modify ability scores). This says something about the nature of the characters so modeled, and I think this feeds into the general power curve analysis I did before.

OSRCon 2

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That’s me in the black t-shirt, sort of in the middle (source)

I spent saturday morning at OSRCon exploring Dwimmermount with fellow blogger Ram (and several others). James M. was referee. I rolled up a second level magic-user named Eknuv and we proceeded to explore the dungeon. It felt like we were very successful (though who knows what all we missed), as we avoided a poison gas trap, defeated several groups of monsters, and discovered a hidden treasure room worth 10,000 GP. Along with other experience, this was enough to promote all of our characters to level 3, which we did. After that, we explored part of dungeon level 2 as well. Overall, this was a great example of how to get a lot done in a limited time, even with many players, and Zak’s suggestion about starting games where players can do things right away holds just as much for in person games as it does in G+ games.

In addition, delving Dwimmermount highlighted the value of small details. You really don’t need a paragraph of description to make a room interesting. One or two features is enough. For example, there was one room that was empty save for small metal rings set into the stone floor making up a pattern. We didn’t figure out what those rings were for, if anything, but the lingering mystery in and of itself is intriguing. This is a good reminder, being in the process of developing a megadungeon of my own. There were many other rooms with similar details, such as columns made of different elements. I’m sure some of those relate to puzzles that we did not solve.

Ed Greenwood running a Forgotten Realms setting (source)

I also played in a Labyrinth Lord game run by Carter Soles (from The Lands of Ara blog). I played Zephyr the cowardly fighter (whose character sheet I unfortunately did not retain, as I needed to leave the game early). That game was basically a commando assault against what seemed to be a haunted keep. As proper adventurers, of course we went in through the roof. There were undead sheep.

The conference as a whole was a lot of fun, though small. I got to play part of a Tunnels & Trolls game run by its creator, which was totally new to me. I also got to watch Ed Greenwood run a session in his Forgotten Realms. In hindsight, I wish I would have made more of an effort to exchange contact info with local OSR gamers or others that I might only know from blogs (for example, I now know that Akrasia was there, though I didn’t meet him). So, if any other readers just happened to be there, leave a comment! Maybe we can get some local Toronto OSR action going, at least semi-regularly.

Types of Preparation

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Download a draft PDF of my session document

What makes up the work that a referee does when preparing to run an RPG? Here is a taxonomy that I find useful for evaluating the utility of published products, and also for deciding how to spend my own limited time. I cover the categories from the general to the specific.

ATMOSPHERE

Atmosphere includes the kind of things that will define a setting at the highest level. Preparation at the this level is like basic scientific research. It is necessary if you don’t want stagnation, but is not very useful when the rubber meets the road in actual play. Luckily or unluckily, the vast majority of published RPG material is atmosphere. For example, most published tabletop RPG settings fit here. They are very far from being play-ready, though they might have some good ideas. Most game entities (the contents of “splatbooks”) also fit here, and include things like monsters, treasure, and spells. Even most modules are better situated here. Fun pleasure reading, interesting ideas, but often not so good at the table. I don’t want to denigrate atmosphere too much; you need to get your ideas from somewhere. But reading a module or game setting is often at the same level as watching a movie or reading a novel.

SETTING

At some point, you need to start deciding where things exist in the campaign world. In the simplest case, you don’t need to do much work here; a town and a dungeon are enough for traditional D&D. Genre expectations (e.g.: generic Tolkienized medieval fantasy, Gotham City) can do much of the work for you, assuming that you don’t require your setting to be unique. The standard tradeoff here is approachability versus specialness (the same tradeoff exists for base rules and house rules). This level, for me, is no longer about general info (that would go above in the atmosphere category); the point of this is stuff that PCs might interact with at a macro level, both in spacial and relationship terms (e.g.: north of the kingdom are mountains, the guild of thieves seeks to steal the secrets from the council of magicians). There are few examples of published setting material under this definition. Most published “settings” are 90% atmosphere with 10% actionable setting info mixed within. I’m still not sure what the best way to store and reference setting info is, especially for use during the game. Character generation rules (or creation of pre-gens), selection of base system, and house rules all also fit here, practically speaking.

ADVENTURE
In an old school style game, this will likely be a site to explore, but it could also be something like an NPC relationship map. It must allow players to make low-level tactical decisions. In terms of published RPG material, the module is the most obvious analogue, but I’m coming to believe that the one page dungeon is a better model. Unfortunately, historically most published examples have been flawed by verbosity and linear story-based presentation that do not allow player choice to have much influence over how the game plays out. Verbose modules can still be valuable, but as atmosphere as described above.
SESSION
This phase doesn’t have a published analogue that I have seen (pointers welcome!), and so it gets far less attention than it deserves. For many people (myself included, until relatively recently), this phase entails a few hastily scrawled notes, maybe a map, and perhaps some refresher cram-memorization if running a module. However, I find that I have been able to run games much more effectively given a slightly more structured approach. Specifically, I need to be able to track time and monster health. To assist with this, I roll up a set of encounters and hit dice beforehand (inspired by Jim’s DM prep posts over at Carjacked Seraphim and Courtney’s session tracker over at Hack & Slash). Turn sequence and hit dice are randomized before every session. This means that during play, I only need to check things off. It is surprisingly freeing to have this info predetermined, and I highly recommend it. Before I did this, I was unable to reliably track time. Afterwards, it became trivial. In addition to this tool, I sometimes create a list of more complicated encounters, compile a list of names to use for improvised NPCs, and have a section to note down treasure or “important things” discovered. This document is still a work in progress though, and I assume it will continue to evolve.