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Lovecraft on Refereeing

The following is a excerpt from an essay H. P. Lovecraft wrote on supernatural horror (originally brought to my attention here). I have struck out mentions of “the writer” and replaced them with “the referee” (colored text in brackets). Obviously, the point of historical scholarship Lovecraft was trying to make in regards to Poe is not relevant to the ideas I am trying to highlight here: detachment, lack of judgment, exploratory freedom rather than preplanned conclusions.

Before Poe the bulk of weird writers [referees] had worked largely in the dark; without an understanding of the psychological basis of the horror appeal, and hampered by more or legs of conformity to certain empty literary conventions such as the happy ending, virtue rewarded, and in general a hollow moral didacticism, acceptance of popular standards and values, and striving of the author [referee] to obtrude his own emotions into the story and take sides with the partisans of the majority’s artificial ideas. Poe, on the other hand, perceived the essential impersonality of the real artist [referee]; and knew that the function of creative fiction is merely to express and interpret events and sensations as they are, regardless of how they tend or what they prove — good or evil, attractive or repulsive, stimulating or depressing, with the author [referee] always acting as a vivid and detached chronicler rather than as a teacher, sympathizer, or vendor of opinion. He saw clearly that all phases of life and thought are equally eligible as a subject matter for the artist [referee], and being inclined by temperament to strangeness and gloom, decided to be the interpreter of those powerful feelings and frequent happenings which attend pain rather than pleasure, decay rather than growth, terror rather than tranquility, and which are fundamentally either adverse or indifferent to the tastes and traditional outward sentiments of mankind, and to the health, sanity, and normal expansive welfare of the species.

— H. P. Lovecraft, Supernatural Horror in Literature (1927)

Musings on Mapping

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.

    Jack of Shadows


    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.

    Zanzer’s Dungeon

    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.

    23 Answers

    My response to Zak’s GM Questionnaire:

    1. If you had to pick a single invention in a game you were most proud of what would it be?

      I can’t follow directions, so here are a few.

      • There was this dungeon that was built under the vacation villa of some powerful noble family. It was designed so that the floor of the villa was also the ceiling of the dungeon, in some places glass, in other metal grates. So the owner could host soirees where the entertainment was adventurers fighting their way through the monsters and traps of the labyrinth below, like a gladiatorial combat. Adventurers would also occasionally get a glass of champagne dumped on them if they were boring the guests.
      • My D&D firearms rules. In terms of game mechanics, guns work exactly like crossbows, but: guns make noise and are easier to conceal, crossbows are quiet but are hard to conceal.
      • Giving XP for session reports. I give bonuses for: writing from character perspective, mentioning awesome things other PCs did, and going the extra mile (one player collected on this for writing in iambic pentameter).

    2. When was the last time you GMed?

      This past monday.


    3. When was the last time you played?

      I don’t remember exactly, which means it has been too long.


    4. Give us a one-sentence pitch for an adventure you haven’t run but would like to.

      Here I go not following instructions again.

      • Vecna Lives! with the pregens and second edition rules.
      • Deadwood on the Dying Earth as imagined by Cormac McCarthy where the wilderness is also the land of faerie.

    5. What do you do while you wait for players to do things?

      Examine my notes, make sure I have relevant data for nearby things so that players don’t get the tabletop equivalent of a “content loading” message. Sometimes I just watch the players go back and forth with crazier and crazier explanations of whatever it is they are trying to understand.


    6. What, if anything, do you eat while you play?

      Recently, this has been oolong tea and dried mangoes. But often, nothing.


    7. Do you find GMing physically exhausting?

      I find myself more tired on the days when I work a full day and then run a game afterwards than on the days when I only work, so I suppose so (to some degree).


    8. What was the last interesting (to you, anyway) thing you remember a PC you were running doing?

      Luring the floating head from Pod-Caverns of the Sinister Shroom into a sack, tying a rope to it, and making it into a balloon.


    9. Do your players take your serious setting and make it unserious? Vice versa? Neither?

      In my experience, a game of D&D is exactly as serious as the least serious person at the table. I am rarely the least serious, and usually the referee, so my setting is usually made unserious. I’ve learned to sit back and enjoy this as part of the show.


    10. What was the last non-RPG thing you saw that you converted into game material (background, setting, trap, etc.)?

      This bottle of vodka I just bought. The next healing potion my players find will look like this.


    11. What do you do with goblins?

      This: Goblins as Corruption

      I really like the idea of this as well: Grognard’s Grimoire: Goblins as a PC Race


    12. What’s the funniest table moment you can remember right now?

      The halfling getting knocked down to zero, making some crazy long odds saving throw thing, and then getting knocked right down again. You had to be there, but trust me it was funny.


    13. What was the last game book you looked at–aside from things you referenced in a game–why were you looking at it?

      The 3 LBBs (because of this discussion about thrown crossbow bolts).


    14. Who’s your idea of the perfect RPG illustrator?

      My head is in OSR-space right now, so that is certainly affecting this list. I can’t pick only one, and I’m sure this list leaving out many worthy artists, especially those less associated with RPGs already.


    15. Does your game ever make your players genuinely afraid?

      No.


    16. What was the best time you ever had running an adventure you didn’t write? (If ever)

      Prior to recently, I have only rarely run modules. As one of those exceptions I ran the Ravenloft Touch of Death module for a player who had tomb raider type of character. It ended up feeling very Indiana Jones.


    17. What would be the ideal physical set up to run a game in?

      A swanky board room. Leather, chrome, and marble. Rothko paintings. Maybe a stray piece of ancient Greek sculpture. Like the Philip Johnson Glass House, but at the top of a fancy office building. Attendants in sharp suits serving great cocktails.


    18. If you had to think of the two most disparate games or game products that you like what would they be?

      The Stratego board game. D&D books.


    19. If you had to think of the most disparate influences overall on your game, what would they be?

      Kafka and He-Man.


    20. As a GM, what kind of player do you want at your table?

      Those who aren’t only concerned with optimization and are willing to engage with the setting in play (by engagement, I don’t mean willingness to read infodumps, I mean willingness to explore and create some of their own goals).


    21. What’s a real life experience you’ve translated into game terms?

      Almost dying once.


    22. Is there an RPG product that you wish existed but doesn’t?

      I have such a wealth of unexplored material already that it seems ungrateful to ask for more. I like reading other megadungeons, especially if they have unique premises. More wilderness generation tools.


    23. Is there anyone you know who you talk about RPGs with who doesn’t play? How do those conversations go?

      Yes; I tend to get overly enthusiastic, and they tend to nod and smile.


    Ancient Power Armor

    Suits of ancient power armor are remnants from an age of lost technological marvels. Most suits will be found in varying levels of disrepair, and are sometimes mistaken for statues.

    Power armor operators have AC as plate. The suit of armor has a pool of hit points which is depleted prior to the user taking any damage. Each suit of ancient power armor has a level, which corresponds to the number of hit dice rolled for max armor HP. For example, a 6th level suit of armor will have 6d8 HP. To randomly determine armor level, roll 2d4.

    Movement while wearing power armor is 90′ (3/4 unencumbered human movement) but is not decreased further by any but the most extreme encumbrance. Depending on the suit in question, using conventional weapons may be awkward (resulting in an attack roll penalty).

    There is a 50% chance that power armor will have offensive systems, which by default are a pair of energy canons (one mounted on each arm). Each blast consumes a charge from a super science battery, and does 1d8 damage per blast. Both arm canons may be fired in a single round.

    Operating the power armor requires a successful “use super science” check. This is 1 in 6 for most classes, 2 in 6 for dwarves/engineers (*); the chance is also raised by 1 for high intelligence (13 or greater). No more than one check per character is allowed per suit. One check is required for mobility and defensive systems, another check is required for offensive systems, if they exist. A week of work, plus another successful super science check, will repair 1d8 HP worth of damage. Referee ruling may require special materials or GP expenditure as well.

    When the power armor HP is reduced to 0, it ceases to function immediately, damaged beyond repair. Any extra HP damage spills over onto the user. Extraction from the suit requires 1d4 rounds and a successful strength check, or a full turn of careful manipulation.

    In no circumstances can a wearer of power armor ever cast spells or use magic items.

    Many varieties of ancient power armor exist. For example, some are designed to function underwater and supply oxygen. Others have variant offensive systems, such as flame throwers. Some suits of power armor also grant immunity to certain forms of attack, such as fire or electricity.


    (*) I haven’t posted in detail about it yet, but the engineer is a human reskin of the dwarf B/X class.

    A 4E player & OD&D

    Wherein I comment on the discovery of OD&D by a 4E player and DDI contributor.

    First, here are the relevant blog posts, in chronological order:

    1. From OD&D to Playtesting New Editions… and Back Again
    2. OD&D and the Challenge of Pleasing Everyone, Part 1
    3. OD&D and the Challenge of Pleasing Everyone, Part 2

    It’s always interesting to see the reactions to OD&D from players of later editions.

    Here are some quotes interspersed with my comments.

    With five PCs (one charmed) and 10 Nixies, the result was a TPK. And yet, we were all laughing and having a blast.

    Remember that thing about DM control? The PCs came to underwater, in an air pocket in the Nixies’ lair. After some fun interaction they allowed the PCs not to serve them for one year, and instead they had to go to the Temple of the Frog and end the threat.

    Now, that might sound like he was being a pushover DM (there was, after all, a TPK), but I actually find myself enjoying the development. As a referee myself, I don’t like undoing PC death, but if I had decided beforehand that the nixies were just trying to subdue (even if before meant as I was rolling up the encounter at the table), I would have felt better about it. What a great lead-in to Temple of the Frog though: servants of nixies for a year.

    Ian of the Going Last podcast, largely held to be a cheese monkey, cast Charm on my hireling. He then told my hireling to kill himself. Checking the rules, they had not yet added the errata to stop this. Ok, I figured I would let this one happen. Now Ian asks about XP. Sure. They get 100 XP, plus 100XP more for his equipment (since in these editions you get XP for gold). Well played.

    I think this is pretty clearly against the spirit of the game, which gives XP for treasure recovered and danger faced.

    My feeling is that 4E creates these big set-piece combats that are often inside rooms and consume a big part of a play session. Because of that, we lose all the other bits (the exploration, the movement, the empty rooms we still search, etc. The dungeon ceases to feel extensive, mysterious, holistic, ecological. Those other bits end up being important to the experience.

    I couldn’t have said it better.

    All damage was a d6, which led the players to have fun with unarmed attacks, throwing a crossbow bolt by hand, and other silly things that still do d6 damage on a hit. In general, combat was more descriptive.

    An important assumption of OD&D, in my mind, is that unless otherwise stated things work relatively realistically. This is the wargaming context at work. In other words: I don’t think the rules suggest that a thrown crossbow bolt should be considered a weapon. There’s nothing wrong, of course, with running a cartoon game where thrown pebbles also do 1d6 damage, if that’s how you roll, but nothing in the rules compels such an interpretation. Taking a crossbow bolt and plunging it into an enemy’s eye? Cue Heath Ledger Joker voice: “Now we’re talking.”

    (Why is it that 4E’s powers, so descriptive in nature, don’t result in players being more descriptive? I would love to see D&D Next find a nice balance between robust options and imagination.)

    I have definitely noticed this in my 4E Nalfeshnee game. I think that is in part because many of the powers are just not very describable. Many seem out of place; a particularly egregious example being the bard power war song strike, which just becomes ridiculous ofter one or two uses (it is an at-will power). Also: perhaps player description has an inverse relationship with power description. In fact, I would argue that we can generalize this. Description and flavor are a fixed quantity. If the setting and rules supply more, the players (including the referee) will supply less.

    no level is suitable for the rooms with 250 guards

    Here I strongly disagree. This area is suitable for any level as an obstacle. Remember those scenes in the original Star Wars on the Death Star with the battalions of storm troopers? Han et al sneaked around. Same thing. The idea that everything should be fought head-on and killed is one of the more pernicious RPG trends (actually, I blame video games more than 3E and 4E).

    Fight On! and Space Beagles

    I received a couple of nice items today. The first is a holdover from a purchase last year.

    The Fight On! Issues #1-4 hardcover. I have all the issues of Fight On! in PDF, but this is my first hard copy. Among (many) other great articles, issues 2 and 3 contain Victor Raymond’s excellent Wilderness Architect series (the pair of articles together is one of my favorite old school supplements). Unfortunately, there is no comprehensive table of contents or index (the pages aren’t even renumbered to match the form factor). I’m more or less used to that with books like this by now, but it’s still a shame. This is one thing you can say in favor of traditional publishers: there is no way they would ever release a book without standard apparati. I love the text-free Elric cover though.

    It has one serious-looking spine. It is actually the thickest book on my gaming shelf now.

    And the next one was a birthday present, The Voyage of the Space Beagle. This novel contains the inspiration for the displacer beast. I was going to read some H. P. Lovecraft after finishing Jack of Shadows (Zelazny), but this one might come up first.

    Night Shade CAS Ebooks

    Some helpful guy named Scott commented on this Grognardia post that the Night Shade Clark Ashton Smith collections (five large volumes, normally hard to find and expensive) are available from Baen Ebooks for $6 each (or $25 for all 5). These editions are DRM-free and multi-format.

    I just purchased the bundle. A quick perusal of volume 1 looks promising. The formatting is nice, and they have tables of contents. (I’m looking at the Epub format on my iPad using Stanza.)

    Mnemonic Module Text

    Justin Alexander (of The Alexandrian) left a comment about boxed text on a Grognardia post that has stayed with me. (I would link to the comment itself, but recent changes to the Blogger comment system seem to prevent such direct linking.) Justin wrote:

    (a) clear separation and identification of all the information the PCs should have upon entering a space makes running a module infinitely easier for the GM; and (b) boxed text is an immediately useful way of making that separation while also providing (when properly executed) a useful tool in its own right.

    I agree with this, but though boxed text is intended to be information immediately perceived by PCs, it is often cumbersome to read (with literary pretensions), can be quite long, and often does not include items that the referee should be immediately aware of (say, a pit trap). So while it can help (sometimes), it is not a complete or perfect solution.

    As an example, consider this area description from the module I am preparing right now, The Pod-Caverns of the Sinister Shroom:

    11. SHAMBLING MOUND LAIR: Ropy pillars of fungus grow from ceiling to floor here, ranging from one to four feet in diameter. A young shambling mound grown by the Shroom makes its lair in the back of the chamber, hidden from sight by the many fungus pillars. In addition to guarding the passage, the shambling mound guards a treasure casket, trapped with a poison dart trap (3 darts, 1d3 damage, poison +3 saving throw, attacks as 2HD monster). The casket contains 1200 gp, 10 pps, 1 potion of healing, and a fungus staff. The staff is made of a spongy fungus material that can be looped or folded (it is coiled in the casket). Whenever combat threatens (e.g., a surprise roll is called for) the staff snaps straight for battle and becomes a +1 quarterstaff in all respects. This ability acts as a warning, granting anyone with the staff in hand to be surprised only on a roll if 1. If it is stored in a backpack or other container, it may very well damage the container when it straightens. 

    That is quite a wall of text to reread in the midst of play. Note that more than half of the paragraph is treasure description. I had already read the module once through, and I remembered that there was a room with a shambling mound, and I also remembered the fungus staff, but I didn’t remember that they were in the same room, that the chest was trapped, or the important entry description (thick ropes of fungus). This was the text I wrote in the margin:

    • thick pillars of fungus floor to ceiling
    • hidden shambling mound
    • guards trapped treasure chest

    Look at how much easier that is to assimilate quickly. It is enough to remind me of all the important aspects of this area. The bullet list is not a substitute for the detailed prose description (which the referee still needs to read beforehand to get a sense of the overall module). Even a concise paragraph of prose text cannot really be read during the play without breaking the flow of the game. If I had not written those notes, I probably would have to reread the entire paragraph to make sure that I was not forgetting anything important.

    I don’t mean to pick on Matt’s module, I actually highly recommend it. It’s well written and very creative. Pod-Caverns just happens to be the module I am using right now. This is only a suggestion for module writers intended to help make modules easier to use.

    See also: Zak’s posts on annotating maps (and here).