Asmor's Geek Blog

I’ve been thinking about fudge dice. For those unfamiliar, fudge dice have an equal chance of rolling blank, plus or minus. In numerical terms, that’s -1, 0, or 1. Typically in fudge you roll 4dF, generating a number from -4 to 4, with a bell curve heavily skewed towards 0.

Anyways, I had some ideas about the dice, in addition to being used to generate a random number, also having other effects.

For example, say you generated a positive point (+P) for every plus rolled, and a negative point (-P) for every minus rolled. Then you could have powers based on spending those points. I’d probably have defensive powers use +P and offensive powers use -P.

That lead me to the idea that these points could actually be used to compensate for someone’s luck. Suppose instead of -P and +P, you got adrenaline for rolling minuses and fatigue for rolling pluses. Now you’ve got a system where people that roll poorly are building up some kind of advantage, and people that roll well are getting a disadvantage.

One issue with basing benefits on rolls is that you can often game the system by trying to force rolls. This doesn’t matter so much in combat, where you might have a turn and there’s an opportunity cost to everything you do, but in a less structured encounter it can be quite abusable.

So what if for every minus you rolled, you got a point of karma. For every plus you rolled, the GM advances a doom track. When the doom track reaches a certain level, something bad happens. Maybe random badness, maybe something the GM planned out ahead of time. You can use it as a timer of sorts; at 30 doom, the prisoners are executed, or the ship leaves port without the PCs, etc.

I was reflecting on some recent acquirements which, though very happy with, I had the same complaint with: they both seemed too expensive. And the more I thought about it, the more it occurred to me that maybe the problem wasn’t the price, but my expectations.

I’ve been buying RPG books from Wizards of the Coast since 3rd edition premiered in, what 2000? In that time, they’ve set a price point in my mind. $30 for a hardcover, full-color book; somewhere in the neighborhood of 250-300pp for “core” books and 150-200pp for “supplements.”

Now, of course, they have the unique benefit of a market that’s vastly larger than any of their competitors, and economies of scale bring the prices for their products down significantly.

The two items I’ve gotten recently which bring this sense of the “worth” of things are Cthulhutech and the Savage Worlds Fantasy Companion.

Quality-wise, the Cthulhutech core rulebook looks like anything WotC might have put out. Hardcover, about the right size, full-color. However, its MSRP is $50, which is about $15 more than I would usually be willing to spend on something like that (and ignoring the fact that whether you buy your stuff online or from a brick-and-mortar store, nobody pays full MSRP…).

The Savage Worlds Fantasy Companion is comparable to the Savage Worlds Explorer’s Edition in form factor. The only qualitative difference between the two is that the Fantasy Companion has a glossy cover and the SWXE has a matte (which I vastly prefer, for both tactile and aesthetic reasons). The two books are similar in size and quality, both digest-sized paperbacks of around a 100 or so pages, give or take (I’m too lazy to go check at the moment). The SWXE’s MSRP is $10, which I recognize as a complete bargain, while the FC’s MSRP is $20. Given that I think the former is a bargain and the latter feels overpriced, I guess that sets my expectations for a product of this magnitude at about $15.

And now the real fun thing, which hadn’t even occurred to me until I actually started writing this post, is how I think about prices. For example, up above where I was talking about the expectation WotC has set for me? I realized that the core rulebooks for Fourth Edition were $34.95, while the supplements are typically $29.95. But in my mind, I think of both as being $30. And, indeed, as I think about it, if the Fantasy Companion has been priced at $18, I don’t think I’d have had any sticker shock.

I guess what it comes down to is that I think of things in $10 tiers. If something costs $x0.00-$x8.99, I tend to mentally round it down to $x0; if it costs $x9.00-$x9.99, I round it up to $(x+1)0. This is something I’ve been aware of for a long time; my disgusting levels of credit card debt in college can attest to how difficult it is for me to keep track of how much I’ve actually spent.

Hmm… So what’s the point of all of this? I’m not really sure. It certainly ended up going a different direction than I’d intended. C’est la vie.

I thought about posting these on Encounter-a-Day, but I’ve pretty much abandoned that blog and only leave it up for posterity… Rather not get people into the habit of checking it.

Goblins in the setting I’m working on worship The Great Machine, a titanic contraption of indeterminate purpose. Every few years, Goblins living out in the world feel a pull to return to their island home of Splockengrack and work on the machine, adding to it or fixing things as whim dictates.

Goblins do not reproduce like most races; rather, they are spontaneously generated within The Great Machine. This isn’t to say that the machine creates them, however; rather, Goblins simply appear, fully formed, through spontaneous generation.

The purpose of the machine, if indeed it has one, is unknown. The goblins believe it to have been created by an entity named Anaximander, who some revere as a god and others simply believe to be the first to begin work on the machine.

There is some evidence that the machine serves a greater purpose. Hundreds of years ago, the fey and the prime material planes mingled freely, and various fey creatures could come to and leave the prime material as they wished. The Shan’torathos, an immensely powerful Elvish empire, actually invaded the prime material and controlled it for generations.

During this time, the Shan’torathos systematically exterminated goblins where ever they could be found. Goblins are magically neutral, unable to wield but also unable to be affected directly by magic, and for this reason the elves saw the goblins as a threat.

Over the years, the prime material and the fey were plagued with natural disasters, steadily increasing in both frequency and intensity. It culminated with The Sundering, where the fey actually ceased to exist.

The loss of the fey was catastrophic to the elves; not only was it their home, but it sustained them as well. The elves became arcanovores, feeding on arcane energy to live. To this day, all elves must learn at least some modicrum of arcane magic simply to keep themselves alive.

With the decline of the Shan’torathos, the goblin population was able to return to its previous healthy levels and, coincidentally, the natural disasters tapered off. This has lead some scholars to posit that The Great Machine is somehow vital to the very health of the world.

I’ve been thinking about ressurection lately. In general, when I run a game I don’t allow ressurection of any kind, because I feel it just causes too many issues.

For example, I feel resurrection removes one of the most important tools a GM has to provide challenge: the threat of death as a consequence of failure. I also worry that it leads to in-game problems; a king has little to worry from assassins when he can simply be resurrected.

I think I’ve come up with a framework for resurrection which addresses both of my main issues, and perhaps even opens up new space.

1. People are resurrected at the same age they were when they died. In other words, if you die of old age, resurrection can’t bring you back.
2. When someone is resurrected, their new body is whole, healthy (with the exception of the ravages of aging), and unscarred.
3. A portion of the body is required for resurrection. The rule of thumb is bone, blood and flesh. If you’ve got that, you can resurrect them. It should be noted that the “sample” must actually be from the corpse. You can’t cut off a finger and leave it behind just in case.
4. Consent is required. Someone has to be willing to be resurrected.
5. That said, the deceased doesn’t know who is performing the resurrection or under what circumstances.
6. Resurrection requires a sacrifice–a soul for a soul. The soul must be relatively similar to that of the deceased; elves, orcs, humans, dwarves, etc are interchangable. A wolf’s soul would not work to resurrect a human, though, and a human’s would not work to resurrect a dragon.

Analyzing this, I reach the following conclusions.

First and foremost, the requirement of bone, blood and flesh means that it’s slightly more difficult, but still completely feasible, to kill someone permanently. If their body can’t be recovered, either because it’s lost or destroyed, there’s nothing to be done. This alone solves almost all my problems with resurrection.

An idea I had related to this is that kingdoms might “save” their greatest heroes by euthanizing them and then magically preserving a part of their body. Picture a reliquary in the heart of a great cathedral where the remains of the greatest paladins in history are stored, ready to be called upon when a great evil arises.

The source of souls for resurrection raises some issues as well. If we’re going to assume that resurrection is a common and accepted part of life, then that leads to the implication that even good societies integrate this soul sacrifice into their culture. I see the ‘good’ societies having institutions where elderly or terminally ill poor can offer themselves for sacrifice, and in return their families are given considerable compensation. On the flipside, a fascist state might use prisoners and dissidents to power resurrection, perhaps even using it as a form of execution. And of course, there are always going to be evil folk who happily kill anyone they like.

Tangentially, I like the idea of vampirism and lichdom as corruptions of resurrection magic. Vampires are practitioners of blood magic. They drink the blood of their victims as a proxy for the victim’s soul. Anyone can become a vampire, it’s literally as simple as just drinking a lot of blood (with the same stipulation that the ‘soul’ needs to be of similar calibre). They heal faster and becomes stronger and faster, but don’t gain any ‘special effects’ for lack of a better term. They can’t fly or transform or charm people.

Liches, on the other hand, steal their victims’ souls directly. Lichdom requires a great deal of arcane prowess, and so liches are quite rare and powerful.

In both cases, they don’t actually cheat the age restriction on resurrection magic. Both liches and vampires are undead. Death is part of the ritual one uses to become a lich. It’s a bit more nuanced for vampires, though. Technically a vampire isn’t a vampire until they “die.” Until that point, they’re a blood mage. At some point, whether from physical trauma, old age, suffocation, etc, a blood mage will die. They might not even notice at the time, for when they die their unlife as a vampire begins immediately and seamlessly. As a blood mage, they can sustain themselves on blood but also can sustain themselves on food and water like any other of their race.

After thinking on the topic for a bit, I’ve come to the conclusion that quests should be short and simple, easily expressed as “[Action] [Subject]” For example, “Collect eggs,” “Deliver package,” “Escort caravan.”

However, and here I’m taking a lesson from World of Warcraft, you spice things up not by complicating the quests, but by giving multiple quests which are to be completed in the same area.

A cult has been growing in the forests outside a large village. The local mayor asks the PCs to look into the cult, and determine if it’s a threat. A farmer asks the PCs to rescue his daughter, who he believes has been brainwashed by the cult. The sheriff believes a thief who escaped is hiding out in the woods as well. Another farmer on the way out of town has been having problems with a pack of wolves attacking his livestock. An infirm widow hasn’t been able to make it out to her husband’s grave recently and asks the players to place a wreath on his grave.

That boils down to the following five quests.

• Investigate cult
• Rescue daughter
• Find thief
• Kill wolves
• Visit grave

Tiny. Bite size. Easy for GMs to come up with, and easy for players to keep track of.

Of course, they still leave plenty of room for the GM to complicate things, as well. Suppose the daughter wasn’t brainwashed, but went with the cult willingly. The thief has been murdered in a particular grisly fashion. The graveyard is overrun by undead. The cult claims they’re trying to stop the undead. The wolves… well, they’re just wolves. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.

D&D’s combat is great for dramatic fights, but it can be a bit of a drag when you keep pulling it out every time the PCs encounter a random brigand or bear. It can also be quite disruptive if for example a PC unexpectedly provokes a guard, and can lead to an inordinate amount of time being wasted on something of little consequence.

Enter skirmishes. Skirmishes are abstract combat. PCs roll initiative, use powers, and ultimately take damage in the form of healing surges.

Important note: Skirmishes have a threshold stat. When a player rolls damage, they gain a hit for every full multiple of the skirmish’s threshold which they beat. For example, if the threshold is 12 and the player rolls at least 12 damage, they’ll score one hit. If they roll at least 24, they’d instead score 2 hits, etc. Each role allows you to spend hits to do certain things.

To resolve a skirmish,

1. Take note of the skirmish’s stats, which are based on its level. Feel free to tweak the stats to suit the particular skirmish. For example, if the skirmish involves goblins, you might decrease the skirmish’s will defense and increase its reflex.
2. Calculate the starting surge damage. This is the initial surge damage from the table times the number of players. For example, if the initial surge damage is 2 and there are 5 players, the surge damage starts at 10.
3. Each player rolls initiative. The DM rolls initiative for the skirmish. Players act in initiative order, but may delay their turn as normal.
4. On a player’s turn, he uses one of his attack powers. If the player uses a daily power, he gets a +2 bonus on the attack roll. If the power affects multiple targets, the player only makes one attack roll, but gets a +5/tier bonus to damage. If they hit, apply the following effects based on the character’s role.
   • Controller: The skirmish gets -2 to all defenses during the next PC’s turn. Controllers may spend hits as follows.
     • 1 hit: Extend the duration of the defense penalty one additional PC’s turn.
     • 2 hits: Reduce surge damage by 1.
   • Leader: A character of your choice gains a +5/tier bonus to their next damage roll. Leaders may spend hits as follows.
     • 1 hit: A character of your choice gains a +5/tier bonus to their next damage roll. (this bonus stacks)
     • 3 hits: reduce surge damage by 2.
   • Defender: The defender may lose a healing surge to reduce surge damage by 1. Defenders may spend hits as follows.
     • 1 hit: The defender may lose a healing surge to reduce surge damage by 1.
     • 2 hits: Reduce surge damage by 1.
   • Striker: Reduce surge damage by 1. Strikers may spend hits as follows.
     • 1 hit: Reduce surge damage by 1.
     • 2 hits: Reduce surge damage by 3.
5. On the skirmish’s turn, double the current surge damage.
6. After everyone’s had a turn, distribute the surge damage among players as equally as possible. For example, if there are 5 PCs and 7 surge damage, 2 PCs must take 2 surge damage and the other 3 PCs must each take 1 surge damage. Players decide amongst themselves who gets the larger shares. For each point of surge damage, the PC loses a healing surge. If the PC has no more healing surges left, he takes damage equal to his surge value for each point of surge damage he couldn’t pay.
7. In the unlikely event that the PCs are all knocked unconscious, they have been defeated. Otherwise, they’re victorious. Their victory takes whatever form is appropriate, e.g. quelling a rebellion, slaughtering demons, or chasing off a pack of wolves. Just remember, this is meant to be a abstract an actual battle, and the story should follow exactly as if you’d played through the battle normally.

Skirmish statistics by level

Please note that I haven’t playtested this, and in particular the numbers probably need tweaking (especially the initial surge damage and threshold).

Whether you love or hate World of Warcraft, it’s a wonderful resource for the tabletop gamer. In D&D 4th Edition, one of the goals people strive for is to make dynamic encounters which encourage movement. Now consider that in WoW, each of the many dungeons and raids are filled with bosses which have had hundreds of man hours of development and testing to provide an encounter which is dynamic and interesting.

Here are some examples of encounters, and how I’d translate them to D&D.

Thaddius’s Polarity Shift

There is a Frankenstein’s monster-style boss named Thaddius with an ability called Polarity Shift. In short, it randomly assigns everyone else a positive or negative charge. People get a damage bonus for standing next to others with the same charge, and take damage for standing near others with the opposite charge.

In D&D terms, I’d say every 2-3 rounds have each player flip a coin and gain one of the following two auras:

Positive Charge aura 5; allies with a Negative Charge starting their turn in this aura take 1d6/tier radiant damage. Allies with a Positive Charge in the aura do an additional 1d6/tier radiant damage on all damage rolls. Multiple Positive Charge auras stack.

Negative Charge aura 5; allies with a Positive Charge starting their turn in this aura take 1d6/tier necrotic damage. Allies with a Negative Charge in the aura do an additional 1d6/tier necrotic damage on all damage rolls. Multiple Negative Charge auras stack.

This effect would probably work best with something like an angel or another immortal. You could also change up the energy types; for example, fire/cold would work just as well for an elementally-themed boss, or maybe even sonic/lightning for a storm theme.

Razorscale

A huge dragon named Razorscale circles around the sky. There are some massive harpoon launchers which can be used to bring her down, but it takes time for the NPC allies to set them up and man them. In the meantime, dark iron dwarves tunnel up and begin an assault. The players have to hold off the dwarves while the harpoons are being setup, and all the while Razorscale lobs fire from the heavens, safely out of reach.

In WoW, it takes a couple of tries to finally defeat Razorscale. After a few precious moments of her being on the ground, she breaks free and returns to the sky. In D&D, I’d probably just have the dragon be grounded once and then that’s it.

This encounter could be an excellent climactic finale to take down a BBEG who just so happens to be a dragon. The PCs must defend the harpooners from wave after wave of minions, and every turn on its initiative the dragon creates a burst 1 zone on the ground which is consumed in flame for a few turns. When the dragon is grounded, it continues attacking with its breath, buffeting with its wings, and swiping with its tail.

Forgemaster Garfrost

Garfrost is an undead giant. He has an aura which continually deals cold damage to players, and increases their vulnerability to cold damage. The only way to get rid of it is to get out of line of sight from him, which is difficult because the fight takes place in a wide open area.

“Thankfully,” Garfrost periodically throws huge boulders at certain people, creating an obstacle which they can hide behind to shake off his aura.

In converting Garfrost, I’d like to introduce a new keyword and accompanying mechanic: Telegraphed. A power which is telegraphed must be “announced” the turn before it is used. The DM simply says, “Garfrosts telegraphs an attack.” Any player may take a minor action to attempt a hard insight check, based on the boss’s level, to figure out what the boss is doing. If successful, the DM tells them something which should be enough for them to make a plan to mitigate the attack.

As a rule of thumb, telegraphed attacks should be significantly more powerful than normal. They might auto-hit without an attack roll, and/or they may do far more than normal damage.

For a Garfrost-esque encounter, I’d go with a magma-themed giant and give him the three following attacks.

Lob Boulder He hefts up a massive boulder and eyes [player]. The boulder is targeted at any square on the turn it’s telegraphed, and when it is thrown creates a burst 2 zone there which blocks line of sight. Anyone in the zone takes [a lot of] damage, is pushed 5 squares, and knocked prone.

Shockwave He lifts his foot off the ground and concentrates all of his strength into his leg. The following turn, he smashes the ground, sending shrapnel in a burst 20. Anyone within the burst takes [a lot of] damage, is blinded (save ends), and is knocked prone.

Detonate He seems to be staring intently at something. Following his gaze, you notice that the boulder is shaking and beginning to crack. The following turn, the boulder explodes in a burst 5, destroying itself and dealing [a lot of] damage to everyone in the burst.

The way I’d run this encounter is start off normally. After a couple rounds of combat, he lobs a boulder at the back ranks and then performs a shockwave. Give the players another round of normal combat for the meleers to get away from the boulder, then another shockwave to get them grouped near it, and then a detonate.

Cheapass Games has a game called Unexploded Cow. I’ve always found the “story” behind it amusing.

You and your friends have discovered two problems with a common solution: Mad Cows in England and Unexploded Bombs in France.

You’ve decided to bring these two powderkegs together just to see what happens. And you wouldn’t say “no” to a little money on the side.

Many fantasy RPGs fall victim to two common plot holes (well, at least, two that I’ll talk about today…).

The first plot hole is that of resurrection magic, or at least, the logical consequences that arise when you consider the ramifications of its existence. In particular, what does it matter if the PCs kill the Big Bad, when his minions could resurrect him? In theory the PCs could come up with certain countermeasures to make that difficult, but in practice it seems like something that is typically hand-waved away.

The second plot hole is one common to much of genre fiction, and not specific to RPGs. An ancient evil, locked away in a prison for millenia, is unleashed, and the PCs are tasked with destroying it. That, then, raises the question of why the ancient evil wasn’t destroyed in the first place, rather than being locked away.

It’s probably obvious where I’m going with this, but much like those English mad cows and French landmines, it occurs to me that these are two problems which could be nicely solved by smashing them together. The real final solution for people you want out of the picture as close to permanently as possible is to lock them up in some sort of magical prison, and the reason things are locked up is because if they were destroyed they could be resurrected.

I’ve had a minor obsession with mechanics involving drawing tokens from a container for the past few months (yes, I get obsessions with classes of mechanics. I’m weird).

One idea I’ve had, which I haven’t been able to fully pin down yet, is what I call the “karma cup.” The idea is that it’s a cup or a bag with green and red stones in it, which players can choose to draw from. If they get a green stone, they get some bonus, but if they get a red stone they suffer some penalty. (continue reading…)

One of the cool things about the Player’s Handbook 3 for 4th edition is that all of the new races have one static ability score modifier, and a choice between two for their second bonus. Unfortunately, the older races don’t have this luxury, and one would hope Wizards of the Coast might go and retrofit them, but it’s simple enough to do on your own.

Here are my suggestions.

Player’s Handbook

• Dragonborn: +2 Strength, +2 Charisma or +2 Constitution
• Dwarf: +2 Constitution, +2 Strength or +2 Wisdom
• Eladrin: +2 Intelligence, +2 Dexterity or +2 Charisma
• Elf: +2 Dexterity, +2 Intelligence or +2 Wisdom
• Half-Elf: +2 Charisma, +2 Constitution or +2 Dexterity
• Halfling: +2 Dexterity, +2 Charisma or +2 Wisdom
• Human: +2 to any ability.
• Tiefling: +2 Intelligence, +2 Charisma or +2 Dexterity

Player’s Handbook 2

• Deva: +2 Wisdom, +2 Intelligence or +2 Charisma
• Gnome: +2 Intelligence, +2 Charisma or +2 Dexterity
• Goliath: +2 Strength, +2 Constitution or +2 Wisdom
• Half-Orc: +2 Strength , +2 Constitution or +2 Dexterity
• Longtooth Shifter: +2 Strength, +2 Constitution or +2 Wisdom
• Razorclaw Shifter: +2 Dexterity, +2 Constitution or +2 Wisdom

Dragon

• Gnoll: +2 Dexterity, +2 Constitution or +2 Charisma
• Revenant: +2 Constitution, +2 Dexterity or +2 Wisdom
• Shadar-Kai: +2 Dexterity, +2 Intelligence or +2 Constitution

Forgotten Realms

• Drow: +2 Dexterity, +2 Charisma or +2 Intelligence
• Genasi: +2 Intelligence, +2 Dexterity or +2 Strength

Eberron

• Changeling: +2 Charisma, +2 Dexterity or +2 Intelligence
• Kalashtar: +2 Charisma, +2 Wisdom or +2 Intelligence
• Warforged: +2 Strength, +2 Constitution or +2 Dexterity

Manual of the Planes

• Bladeling: +2 Dexterity, +2 Wisdom or +2 Constitution

Monster Manual

• Bugbear: +2 Strength, +2 Consitution or +2 Dexterity
• Githyanki: +2 Constitution, +2 Intelligence or +2 Wisdom
• Goblin: +2 Dexterity, +2 Constitution or +2 Charisma
• Hobgoblin: +2 Constitution, +2 Charisma or +2 Dexterity
• Kobold: +2 Dexterity, +2 Constitution or +2 Wisdom
• Orc: +2 Constitution, +2 Strength or +2 Wisdom

Monster Manual 2

• Bullywug: +2 Constitution, +2 Dexterity or +2 Wisdom
• Duegar: +2 Wisdom, +2 Constitution or +2 Intelligence
• Kenku: +2 Dexterity, +2 Intelligence or +2 Charisma