Halflings & Monks

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James Raggi describes the game role of the halfling as:

Halflings can hide like nobody’s business. And these guys almost never miss a saving throw (regardless of category).

So, mechanically, the halfling class is hard to hit, agile, and sneaky. The first two fit a martial artist pretty well. Monks in AD&D (according to the 1E PHB) have the following abilities:
  • AC bonus (by 13th level, they have a natural AC of 0)
  • Increased movement (for combat mobility)
  • Increasing number of unarmed attacks per turn
  • Can do deadly damage with open hand attacks (by 13th level, 3d4 + 1)
  • Some thief abilities
  • Able to fall greater distances without taking damage
  • Speak with animals as druid
  • Mask the mind from ESP
  • Immune to diseases
  • Immune to haste and slow spells
  • Feign death
  • Limited self-healing
  • Speak with plants as druid
  • Greater defence against charm, hypnosis, suggestion, geas, and quest
  • Psionic mental blast attack
  • Poison immunity
  • Quivering palm super death attack
Like many of the AD&D classes, this laundry list of abilities is a bit overwhelming. The abilities further down only show up gradually as a monk progresses (I had actually forgotten how absurd that list of abilities gets as the monk progresses; to be fair, the AD&D monk also forgoes many benefits that other classes have, such as STR and DEX combat bonuses, can’t wear armor, etc). The mystic in the Rules Cyclopedia is more or less a basic D&D take on the monk class, and has similar abilities. There is also an interesting take on the monk in the first issue of NOD, which makes the monk a subclass of fighter and allows the monk to make a saving throw to deflect arrows and other missiles. [Oct 20, 2011 edit: I just learned that the idea to give monks a saving throw against missile attacks comes from the original Supplement II: Blackmoor.]
Of these abilities, I think the saving throw to knock missiles out of the air is perhaps the most evocative. It is also a great use of saving throw mechanic, which I think is often (poorly) overloaded to perform actions that are more properly skills or abilities. Also, if deflection requires an open hand, it also incentivizes unarmed fighting without resorting to unrealistic restrictions which can be problematic for suspension of disbelief (tangent: this is one of the reasons I love how Weird Fantasy Role-Playing has no armor or weapon restrictions while maintaining class distinctiveness).
Martial artists are also supposed to be hard to hit in general, continually parrying, dodging, and blocking. Both of the old TSR classes represent this as decreasing natural AC. This is not horrible, as dexterity can do the same thing, but it does work against the traditional notion of AC as the class of armor worn. So what if we do away with the AC bonus, and instead give the monk a saving throw against being hit by any attack that they could reasonably dodge or block? Of course, they would only be able to use their saving throw if they were unarmored and have free movement. This, combined with the impressive halfling save progression, would lead to a very viable and interesting class.
A good save is only a defensive and reactive ability though. And, in some sense, if you are being attacked directly when playing a class not designed for direct fighting, you are already in a bad place. So being hard to hit is all well and good, but to be really fun to play the class will have to have some proactive abilities as well. I also like the idea of being able to scale walls acrobatically (think how the characters in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon kick their way up walls and roofs, particularly in the ninja chase scene). Maybe this ability is the inverse of being able to fall greater distances without taking damage.
So, a partial list of abilities:
  • Save against being hit
  • More damage than normal when fighting unarmed
  • Fall greater distances without taking damage
  • Scale walls and obstacles acrobatically
Perhaps something having to do with grappling and restraining would be another good ability candidate.
I feel like this is a good base, but I’m still missing the most important part of the class: a good name. Monk and mystic really don’t fit very well. Monk has too many cultural connotations (I want this class to be able to represent any kind of martial artist character, not just Shaolin monks) and mystic just doesn’t seem to fit at all.Other related discussion:

It is interesting to me that people seemed to have connected the monk to just about every class other than halfling.

25 Words & 1-Page Documents

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One of the primary lessons I have taken from my research into OSR design principles is that preparing too much, in addition to wasting time, can also actually result in a less interesting and more constrained campaign. Instead, it is better to pursue a “just in time” strategy.

So, assuming I want to put this theory into practice, what is needed? There seem to be 2 categories of prep required: 1) setting & 2) rules (obviously there is some interaction between the 2, but I think it useful to consider them separately).

For the setting, first a basic concept or inspiration is needed. This doesn’t need to be complicated or even original. Using 25 words or less to summarize seems like a reasonable rule of thumb. Here is my first pass for the campaign I am currently working on:

Outcast adventurers, empty throne, squabbling nobles, mythic demihumans, dark fae elves, black magicians hunted, wizards unleash monsters, no dwarves or halflings, morlocks delve.

The rest of the setting info is probably referee-only. Including:

  • Basic hex map
  • Starting settlement
  • 1 or 2 levels of “dungeon”
  • Encounter tables for areas developed
  • List of hirelings
  • Several interesting surface locations (can be published modules)

We’ll see how that goes. I’m sure I’m overlooking something.

I would even say that you don’t need a map handout for the players. Let them map it themselves, and then be amazed at how their take on what was described differs from the maps behind the screen.

What about rules? Rules prep should includes what classes are allowed, how initiative is handled, etc. (A list of such common rules requirements would be useful to have, but I’m not going to do that here.) The way some people handle this is to essentially rewrite their own version of the classic rules. This is a wonderful thing, as it has given us products like Labyrinth Lord, Swords & Wizardry, and Weird Fantasy Roleplaying. (I realize that there are also other motivations behind the retro-clones and simulacra, such as keeping classic rules in print, but I don’t think anyone would argue that these products don’t also scratch the “this is what I play” itch.) But such extensive work is inimical to the core principle of “just in time” prep.

Instead, assume a common baseline, and then come up with some notes explaining how the proposed campaign differs. Example: B/X D&D baseline, but without clerics, replacing the thief with the LotFP specialist. This will allow you to communicate your vision to someone that is not as obsessive about your setting as you are (probably all of your players).

Divide the notes into the parts that concern the players and the parts that concern the referee. Each should become no larger than a single-sheet document. Situations that almost always require house rules (such as character death) should be included in the player’s document. The 25 word summary could also be the header of the player’s document, to quickly give a sense of the mood.

Sorcerer Class

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Here is a class that I have been working on for inclusion in the basic game.

The sorcerer is a magic-user that has natural arcane talent. He does not study magic or keep a spell book. Rather, his spells are natural talents, and often manifest themselves in idiosyncratic ways. Some sorcerers must engage in particular activities in order to trigger their abilities (e.g., dancing or drawing runes), while others must merely concentrate (decide during character creation). Spells that require somatic components in the rules still require some bodily movement, though the nature of that movement should conform to sorcerer in question. No sorcerer spells require material components. Sorcerers can not create magic items.

The sorcerer uses the same spell progression table as the magic-user, but does not need to memorize spells. Instead, he accumulates a number of spell slots equal to the value of each spell he has access to. For example, a third level sorcerer can cast two first level spells and one second level spell. Thus, he has 4 spell slots, and can use these to cast any combination of spells the level of which he has access to. This wizard could cast 4 first level spells, 2 second level spells, or 2 first level spells and 1 second level spell. He regains use of all spell slots after an extended rest. (I’m not sure about this method of regaining spell slots, but I don’t have any other ideas right now.) Perhaps some sort of active recovery would work better.

A sorcerer may cast the same spell more than once, but each time it is cast, the cost in spell slots increases by one. For example, say that a sorcerer has the sleep spell. The first time he casts sleep, it uses up one spell slot. The second time he casts sleep, it expends two spell slots, the third time, three slots, etc. I’m quite happy with this mechanic, because it encourages the use of more than one spell (the danger with spell point systems is that the caster might merely employ fireball after fireball, which limits creativity). It also reflects the way the sorcerer’s casting is less precise and systematic than a scholarly magic-user.

When the sorcerer gains a new spell slots, he rolls on the magic tables for a new spell. The sorcerer can not learn new spells in any other way, and can not teach other magic-users his spells. This means that some levels a sorcerer will gain more than one spell. For example, when going from sixth to seventh level, a traditional magic-user gains one first level spell slot and one fourth level spell slot. A sorcerer undergoing the same level transition would gain 5 spell slots (1 + 4) and two new spells: roll randomly once on the first level table, and once on the fourth level table. Re-roll if the result is a spell that the sorcerer can already cast. I would encourage players and referees to not re-roll spells in any other case, because the idea of chance, chaos, and lack of control are inherent in the concept of the sorcerer. Respect fate.

Once per day, the sorcerer can let loose wild energies and cast a random spell. This uses up all remaining spell slots, with level balance being made up by damage. The spell cast thusly may be of any level, even a level that the sorcerer can not yet cast, but the targets and all details are up to the referee. Such random spells may only be cast during a time of great stress, such as during combat. I’m not sure about this ability yet, but I really like the flavor. Perhaps the random spell should not be of any level, but rather the sorcerer’s level + N (maybe N = 3?).

There is a 50% chance that a critical failure results in a spontaneous spell discharge of one of the spells the sorcerer can normally cast. The wild magic drains spell slots if available, and if they are not available, the balance is made up by damage.

A sorcerer can not be killed by damage from his own spell casting. Instead, if such damage reduces him to 0 HP, he is knocked unconscious and is stable at 0 HP.

The sorcerer can use leather armor but no shield and simple weapons. Club, short sword, light crossbow, spear, quarterstaff, dagger.

Other similar ideas:

Blackwater Falls

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You have received notice that the great sorcerer, Wolfgang Constantine, your patron and friend, has died in mysterious circumstances. The missive further indicates that you were included in the wizard’s will, and as such have been bequeathed a part of the Blackwater Falls estate.

So began one of the most successful RPG campaigns that I have participated in. This was in the late 90s. Some friends and I were tired of campaigns that did not last, so we wanted to put something together that would require a very small upfront investment in preparation, and would not require extensive referee work from any one person.

The principles of the game were as follows:

  • Your character must have a relation to the archmage Wolfgang Constantine (this would also provide an easy way to introduce new characters as needed, since not all of the inheritors had been located)
  • Referee duties would be rotated
  • Multiple characters were allowed, but we had to pick only one to play at the beginning of each session (this also meant that we didn’t have to wait for one set of characters to get back before starting another adventure, particularly if different players were involved)
  • Referees were not to use important NPCs created by others (this was to allow recurring villains and sub-plots)
  • The world map began mostly unspecified and would be elaborated as needed over the course of play (it started as a college of wizardry, a town, and the Blackwater Falls mansion)
  • The mansion itself, built into a cliff of black stone over which tumbled a waterfall, was huge and unexplored; no one knew how big it actually was, or what purpose it served
  • In addition to the exploration of the mansion and its catacombs, the PCs would have to deal with tax and debt collectors coming after the great wizard’s heirs (Constantine was a big spender, but everyone was afraid to try to collect from him, since he was such a powerful and feared wizard)
  • PCs must start and end every session at the mansion (if at all possible)

We called this a “house” game, since the PCs started and ended every session at the Blackwater Falls mansion. At the time we attributed the campaign’s ultimate success mostly to the idea of referee rotation and the “house” concept (which we borrowed from some older White Wolf gamers, though I don’t know if the term was in general use). Looking back on this now, though, I think that the real reason the campaign worked was that we had unwittingly stumbled upon many of the principles of old school gaming. The lack of initial setting specification. The megadungeon (in the mansion). The lack of too much pre-planned plot (mostly due to the rotating referee duties). In other words, we started with only the principles of what would make a successful RPG, and we ended up with old school D&D (the rules for adjudicating success and failure were different, but the way we played the game was remarkably similar). The only major principle we were missing was the use of random tables. The focus on treasure was even there, since all the characters started out poor, but needed to accumulate funds to pay off Constantine’s debts.

The game started using AD&D 2E rules (with some modifications to support a pseudo-Victorian and steampunk setting), but after some play was transitioned to a generic homebrew skill system based roughly on White Wolf games (after all, back then the smart kids were playing Vampire and Mage, not D&D). But the rules were mostly immaterial. It was the sense of exploration, at least for me, that made the game work.

That’s what makes the OSR so fascinating to me, getting back into this hobby. I’m currently running a 4E game (3 sessions in), more or less because that is the system my coworkers expect. I hope to make use of some of the old school ways though. In fact, I partly see this blog as an investigation into the following question: can an old school sandbox game be run effectively using a modern ruleset? I am greatly inspired by the empirical style of James Maliszewski’s Dwimmermount campaign. My experience so far is that combat is slow, clunky, and does not lend itself well to creativity and imagination. But I don’t yet consider this to be a fair appraisal, because I am still learning the rules (as the referee), and we are playing with at least one player who has never played any tabletop RPG before.