Points of Darkness for Horror Gaming

Last year I spent some time thinking about how I'd run a historical D&D game in a "weird horror" mode, and I called it the 'Wide Area Sandbox'.  Points of Darkness is a simpler and more evocative term for horror gaming; I saw it over at Brendan's blog (points of darkness) and it stuck with me.

The idea behind the Points of Light trope is the fantasy world is essentially a dangerous place, and the DM can structure it as civilized settlement (a point of light) surrounded by a vast swaths of wilderness that are unfriendly or hostile (the darkness).  It's a great approach for starting a standard D&D campaign, which typically involves a fallen civilization and lots of ruins.

Lovecraft Country: not for hex crawling

Horror gaming often takes place in the regular world - it could be 17th century Europe, the Victorian age, 1920's America, or the modern day.  Day to day life may be different than our world, but it's still fairly mundane; whatever supernatural threats or horrors exist, they do so on the fringes of society - the remote mountain fastnesses of Transylvania, untouched tombs of Egypt, sleepy New England coastal towns where the forefathers made a pact with aquatic horrors.  The points of darkness where eldritch horror lurk are few and far between, and they keep themselves secret and hidden.  This is a problem for putting players in touch with the horror!

The traditional 50 miles of hex crawl centered around a medieval manor or barony doesn't work as an organization structure for a globe-spanning horror game set in the mundane world.  The characters aren't going to hex crawl through New England before discovering the weird events surrounding the lonely Akeley Farmhouse (from The Whisperer in Darkness).

The plot hook becomes the primary method for ferreting out the existence of a Point of Darkness, and so the horror game is defined by its approach to plot hooks.  I haven't always appreciated the plot hook; it's very easy for a DM enamored with their own ideas of "story" to slide from presenting plot hooks as information into plot hook as rail road.

There are two basic approaches I've seen to using plot hooks in horror games; the first approach emulates the literary genre by associating the plot hook with character back story, the second approach functions more like a police procedural.

In genre emulation, the protagonists often have a close, preexisting connection to the plot hook and the Point of Darkness; they’re already in the wrong place at the wrong time when the story starts.  Henry Armitage gets involved with The Dunwich Horror because he happened to be the Professor at Arkham University; Francis Thurston of The Call of Cthulhu (story) was the nephew that inherited the papers of his dead uncle, and pieced together the fragmented tale of the Cthulhu Cult; Walter Gilman in The Dreams in the Witch House happens to be the student that chooses to stay in the Witch House and has those bizarre experiences.  The protagonist's initial involvement is almost passive.

You see a similar approach in game materials that try to emulate horror source literature; everyone has to play pre-generated characters that come loaded with a back story that places them in nexus with the upcoming horror.  Many Trail of Cthulhu adventures use this approach.  Alternatively, everyone makes a character, but they're required to have an appropriate background before the first session - "The adventure involves Mayan ruins, so you need to be an archaeologist, or someone associated with a dig site, at the start of the game".

That approach is fine for one-shots and limited engagements, but doesn't work so well in a campaign where the players want to use their own characters.  The "police procedural" approach puts the players in some kind of narrative framework that provides access to plot hooks over time, and the group chooses to conduct investigations that could ultimately lead back to a Point of Darkness.  A good example from television was The X-Files; the main characters were FBI agents who often investigated murders and abductions that put them in contact with supernatural or alien forces.  Most TV shows that have a recurring horror element have a narrative framework that puts the protagonist in touch with frequent plot hooks - one per episode, right?

The nice thing about the procedural approach is that it gives the players quite a bit of agency in how they actually carry out their investigations.  They still need to buy-in to the basic premise of the game, first; "I know we said we'd be occult investigators working for a rich philanthropist, but that sounds kind of dangerous.  How about we all become bankers instead?"  Short game.

So what's the point about this analysis?  Really two-fold.  When taking a look at published scenarios, you should be able to ferret out fairly quickly the approach the writer is expecting.  Most early Call of Cthulhu materials used back story or connections to a friend or benefactor to get the characters engaged; thus, it was often a struggle having a rationale for introducing replacement characters as the body count rose; be warned.  Later publishers in the space have offered various forms of narrative frameworks supporting the procedural approach, obviating the problem and supporting ongoing campaigns that feature degrees of mortality.

As a scenario builder, you'll likely start with a horrible situation in mind, and have to work backwards to getting the players involved (starting at the center of the onion and adding layers).  It'll be helpful to know which approach you mean to use - will the players encounter the plot hooks passively or actively?  In an upcoming post, I'll discuss common narrative frameworks for games like Call of Cthulhu, and then pivot to discuss different ways writers have presented investigations and adventure sites.  After all, what we want are free form sandboxes that maximize player agency!  I've got a review of Trail of Cthulhu almost done as well.

Ode to Mystara

I Got Your Gonzo Right Here, Buddy

Hey, I just found a new blog (Stocking the Dungeon) and noticed it's dedicated to campaigning in my old favorite, Mystara.  These days we are strong with the power of AD&D and Greyhawk, running a campaign featuring all the classic AD&D modules, but I spent most of my DM career campaigning in Mystara.  For many years, the Grand Duchy of Karameikos was always the starting place for new campaigns.

Mystara tends to be overlooked by the old school crowd, folks that got their start in the 70's and early 80's; by the time Mystara was hitting its stride, they had checked out of TSR and its 2nd Edition and its death from a thousand settings.  Mystara followed the pattern of the time, releasing book after book after book, describing all the nations of the Known World in Gazetteers, the Hollow World, and something I can only describe as RACE CLASS MADNESS (in other words, those four Creature Crucible books and Orcs of Thar).

But while many of the TSR settings of the 2E period went for different flavors of theme and simulation, like Al Qadim or Kara Tur or Maztica or The Horde, Mystara saw that, raised them, and then went gonzo.  As in, "the moon is ruled by katana-wielding Cat People Samurai Ninjas, who ride giant saber tooth tigers, in space."  That, my friends, is either stupid, or awesome.  Or as Jeff might say, stupidly awesome.

This is what happens when you're the red-headed stepchild of AD&D.  The suits ignore your product line, and you're given freedom to have some fun.  Basic D&D is for kids, right?  Sit tight and see what happens when the inmates run the asylum.

First off, Mystara kept Dave Arneson's Blackmoor firmly in the setting's prehistory (for those that wanted some time travel, there was the opportunity to jaunt back to the Temple of the Frog or visit the Egg of Coot in the DA series of Blackmoor modules for Mystara).  The good ship FSS Beagle crashed on Mystara, and its nuclear reactor exploded, destroying the ancient world of Blackmoor and turning the globe into a prehistoric nuclear wasteland.  All magic on Mystara is fueled by low levels of background radiation, and the existence of magical creatures can be traced back to magical mutation.  The first step to awesoming up your setting is putting a global thermonuclear catastrophe in the ancient past and declaring that magical races (elves!) are actually unwitting radioactive mutants.

In the Glantri book, there are even ways for wizards to learn how to manipulate radiation-magic directly (it's called The Radiance) and a practitioner will either become immortal or get turned into a Lich suffering from radiation sickness.  But don't worry, the 20th level wizards wasting away into radioactive Lichdom fit in with all the vampire wizards and werewolf wizards in Glantri.  It's a party.  Too much manipulation of the Radiance can actually alter the flow of magic on Mystara, causing Potions of Longevity to fail and magical creatures (elves) to slip into lethargy.

Before I forget - a little Clark Ashton Smith makes any setting better, so those whacky Mystaran writers transplanted the whole crew from Averoigne right into Glantri by way of Castle Amber.  I love the fact the Enchantress of Sylaire graces the cover of the Glantri book.

The Mystaran sky is filled with various nations that have mastered air ship technology, like the expansionist Heldannic Knights of the Heldann Freeholds, or the Alphatians, descendants of the Atlanteans of Earth myth.  The Alphatians went on an inter-dimensional odyssey before ending up in Mystara...  every setting should have ties to sunken Atlantis.  We learn that Alphatia is ruled by a council of no less than one thousand 36th level wizards.

If "magic as technology" isn't your thing, you might be annoyed by Mystara.  There are flying carpet courier services, islands set up as theme parks for ordinary folks to experience "the adventurer lifestyle" on holiday, and Glantri City is lit by continual light spells.  An entire kingdom of gnomes floats high above the ground in their orbiting clockwork city of Serraine.

In case the surface doesn't have enough wahoo, consider that Mystara is hollow.  There are huge voids at the north and south pole where an explorer could literally walk around from the outside to the steaming jungles of the inside world, but powerful divine anti-magic prevents flying ships from making the trip.  The hollow world is a night-less place where the immortals of Mystara transplant dying cultures in a kind of world-sized bottle city; it's filled with analogs of the Aztecs (with dinosaurs), the Romans (with dinosaurs), and the Egyptians (with dinosaurs).  One of the hollow world deities is Ka, the patron god of dinosaurs, so the place is crawling with prehistoric monsters and the scantily clad barbarian princesses that ride them.  It's ideal for a savage world, swords & sorcery style game (with dinosaurs).

I mentioned that Mystara featured RACE-CLASS MADNESS.  It's what happens when you can't resist the urge to turn any monster or humanoid race into a  playable class.  I mean "Pegataurs", really?  Mystara took the Elf, Dwarf, and Halfling classes, as laid out in Moldvay BX and Mentzer, out to its logical conclusions.  There are race classes covering every type of lycanthrope, lots of woodlands creatures (centaurs, pixies, sylphs, dryads, satyrs, and more), all manner of aquatic races, and every kind of monstrous humanoid.  One could even run an entire humanoid campaign centered on the monster realms in the Broken Lands - wouldn't it be fun to visit Trollhattan, or Bugburbia? Mystara didn't take Gygax's "humanocentric vision" very seriously, and enjoyed plenty of in-jokes.

In addition to stretching the bounds with gonzo weirdness, the D&D line featured products that took classic D&D out of the dungeon and added new dimensions to game play, like mass combat, domain rulership, and quests for immortality.  I haven't been shy about talking up my support for Adventurer Conqueror King, especially because it's improving the systems first field tested on storied Mystara.

The story line that was begun in X4 Master of the Desert Nomads and X5 Temple of Death reaches fruition in module X10, Red Arrow, Black Shield - a double sized adventure that plunges Mystara's Known World into a continent spanning war against "The Master" and his desert hordes.  It's really two games in one, first a series of player character quests as the players traverse the Known World as envoys enlisting the kingdoms of the world to rise up against the Master.  It's also a continent spanning military campaign using old school hexes and cardboard military counters to track the progress of a war spanning dozens of nations and hundreds of army units.

Domain rules are fully embraced in C1, Test of the Warlords, which opened up the Norwold region of Mystara for colonization, allowing your 15th+ level PC's to carve out wilderness domains, raise armies, and hold off various invasions.  Norwold would go on to be a mainstay in the M-series of modules as well, and thrust the players right into the middle of the conflicts between Thyatis and Alphatia, the world-spanning empires on Mystara.

I'm going to skip discussing Mystara's approach to Immortals and quests for Immortality, seeing as this Ode to Mystara is waxing long.  Wrath of the Immortals was a boxed set that put this element of play front and center, and probably deserves it's own post at some point (it's both ambitious and controversial).  Suffice it to say, Mystara's approach to integrating gods, known as "Immortals", was just was wahoo as the rest of the setting, centering Immortal politics around a location on the moon known as the Vaults of Pandius that's presented a bit like the halls of the Justice League.

Let's hope part of WOTC's appeal to lapsed buyers gamers includes putting those old PDFs back on sale; there's a lot of great stuff in the Mystara catalog that should be experienced by modern gamers and mined for ideas.  The Grand Duchy of Karameikos is still the best campaign starting area ever published...

Call of Cthulhu's Old School Roots

One goal for this year was to write more frequently on subjects with nexus to Call of Cthulhu - reviews, discussions of the literature, how to play the game and run campaigns.  If you've hung around here a bit, you know in my D&D discussions I'm biased towards the rules light, old school style of play; a good place to start any discussion of Call of Cthulhu is how it measures up as an old school game.

Simulationist
My power trio of early games is Dungeons & Dragons, Traveller, and Call of Cthulhu.  One important element that ties all three games together is they attempt to simulate a game world, with a set of coherent rules where conflict and skill resolution are handled by dice; you don't see any of the things that creep into later generation games like dice pools, resource pools, action points, or similar elements that support cinematic, action-hero play.  The game master exerts strong narrative control, and all three games lend themselves well to free form, exploratory scenario design.

Characters
The default approach to Call of Cthulhu is to play ordinary folks in the 1920's, who through one reason or another, begin to investigate occult mysteries.  It's the game that pioneered such exciting character choices as "Antiquarian", or "Historian".  The action oriented might choose to be a "Police Officer", or "Private Detective".  Characters are generally fragile, and the scale is human (as opposed to the super-human action heroes that grace power fantasy gaming).  Like other games of the period, COC uses random character attributes.

Conflict and Balance
All of the chief conflict resolution systems use dice for resolution - combat, skill checks, and sanity rolls.  Like Traveller, character skill is an important element to the game - investigators are typically armed with such exciting skills like reading ancient languages, or knowledge in various scientific fields like botany or zoology.  (Gun skills are useful for dealing with cultists and mortal foes, but not so much against monsters).

There is no "game balance" whatsoever.  Invariably, the investigators will cross paths with cultists armed with terrifying spells, or horrible monsters from the Cthulhu Mythos.  Survival during an investigation is primarily dependent on player skill, since physical conflict against monsters is a bleak proposition.  The ability to analyze clues and information, marshal resources, and solve problems, is critical to successful Call of Cthulhu play, and the game challenges the players far more than their characters.

Paradigm of Investigation
Characters in Call of Cthulhu perform investigations, which are essentially fact-finding, exploratory scenarios.  One of the things I'll highlight in some upcoming posts is how investigative scenarios are basically virtual dungeons; you can flow chart an investigation much like a traditional dungeon (and I find it's helpful in scenario design to avoid a linear experience).  One issue we'll visit below is that poorly done scenarios are essentially rail roads.

Rules History
Call of Cthulhu was first published back in 1981; the first few releases were boxed sets, followed by progressively more elaborate core rules.  I've heard there have been something like 30 different unique printings of the core rulings in one form or another, although the game is officially on the 6th edition, with rumors of a 7th edition in the works.  Unlike D&D, that generates wide-scale changes between editions, COC typically features only minor variations, and early edition supplements remain completely compatible with the latest and greatest set of rules.

Issues
We tend to have big debates in the D&D world about play styles and DM approaches; sandbox play is right, and rail road play is wrong, that kind of thing. Similarly, in the Cthulhu space, one can find scenarios that are written in a linear style with foregone conclusions and elements we'd describe as a rail road.  One of the things I'll get to discuss over the course of the year is which published scenarios and campaigns support free-form exploration in the old school style, and which campaigns and scenarios are linear rail roads, and how groups have different expectations.  For instance, many Call of Cthulhu devotees are more interested in good horror experiences than character agency, and don't mind a linear plot if the situation provides a novel experience.

Another thing that drifts from old school play, is when scenarios put significant emphasis on character background and back story, more than we're used to in old school Dungeons & Dragons.  This isn't inherent in the game system, it tends to be the foible of a specific module writer.  You folks that complain about the pre-generated characters in Dragonlance know of which I speak.

The original game doesn’t provide a lot of guidance on campaign structures that allow a group of disparate investigators to come together without straining credulity; it really becomes a problem when the body count piles up and replacement characters need to be introduced.  "This is Bob, my other character's second cousin's brother…"  Call of Cthulhu D20, Delta Green, and Trail of Cthulhu all added useful tools for structuring campaigns that provide an ongoing rationale for character involvement, and I'll explore these ideas in upcoming posts as well.  Despite the issues, Call of Cthulhu is absolutely an old school system, and it's possible to structure the same kind of free-form, exploratory adventures in COC that we enjoy so much in old school D&D.  It'll be fun to discover here on the blog.

My goal is to do a Cthulhu-related post or so each week, but not overwhelm the D&D stuff; judging by how the side poll is going, the majority of folks that come by here are either COC players or somewhat interested in the game and genre, so that should be fine.  Let me know how it's going!

Gothic Greyhawk - Games 48-49 - Founding of a Barony

Cast of Characters


Player Characters:
Mordecai, a Cleric-7: Adam
Forlorn, an Elf-5: Bo
Mister Moore, Magic User-6: Mike
Shy, a Fighter-6:  JR
Leonidas the Paladin-5:  Nogal
Digit, the Elf Thief-7:  Zee
Konstantine, Magic User-5: Smitty

Henchmen:
Ireena, a Fighter - 5
Phat Kobra, a Dwarf-5
Grumble the Smug, Halfling-5
Donavich, Cleric-4
Boris, Druid-3
Vlad the Inhaler, Magic User-1


On Monday, I posted a brief campaign recap to date, but here's the actual report (or should I say memoir?) of the last two game sessions.  Whew, this one is long, and covers politics, diplomacy, religious conversions, and an exciting joust.

Months have passed in the valley of Barovia; over the winter, the characters have begun fixing up Castle Ravenloft, laid plans to replace the wooden church with a larger stone edifice, and negotiated terms with the Barovian gypsies to act as wardens, scouts and border guards.  The group was anxious for spring weather, so they could descend from the high mountain valleys back into Sterich and find out what was going on in the world.

In case you're interested, we're using the ACKS (Adventurer Conqueror King) playtest rules to determine things like domain population, castle upkeep costs, domain morale, building costs, all those cool things that come with domain rulership.  A previous post on Castle Ravenloft, Under New Management, lays out some of the initial work I did, and they took it forward from there.

The individual characters had their own agendas.  Wizards set up laboratories in the castle and began transcribing spells and making "percent change to learn" rolls.  Mr Moore assumed the title Baron of Barovia, with his betrothed, Ireena, as the future Baroness.  Forlorn has continued reading the Book of Unspeakable Shame.  Mordecai, now a 7th level cleric, is Bishop of Barovia, and he and Father Donavich worked diligently at preaching to the villagers and performing miracles on their behalf.  They also recruited an acolyte.

Another funny thing became evident; Leonidas the Paladin started extolling the virtues of Zeus, in opposition to Mordecai's church.  I guess this detail had drifted into my subconscious, but when the group had frank discussions about the Church and the religion of the townsfolk, Leonidas's player (Nogal) reminded me that he was dedicated to the old gods and Zeus as Ruler of the Universe.  "Who wants to be a holy paladin when I can be a paladin of Zeus?"

Mordecai is a "prophet" of the Eternal Spirit - he was a simple farmer that had an angelic visitation, and found himself bestowed with clerical powers.  Since the beginning of the campaign, clerical spell casters in Gothic Greyhawk are selected through divine fiat, for unknown aims, and they are infrequent.  As such, he hasn’t developed formal ties to the institution of the Church, and has been fairly laissez faire regarding other faiths.

I hadn't planned on having echoes of the Greek gods in the medieval framework of Gothic Greyhawk, but I certainly want to encourage the kids in the campaign to make creative additions to the world.  So now Nogal is quick to google a picture of the Spartans from 300 whenever he feels the need to remind me what his guy looks like.  "His armor and helmet looks like this guy, only there's more armor because it's plate mail, and more clothes because it's cold".  And they have a druid henchman, too.

I'll leave it up to the players to figure out how they work together with three different "faiths" in the group, whereas NPCs and inhabitants of the world are another matter, as you'll see further in the report.

While the magic users continued their group spell transcription, Leonidas announced that he was having visions of a magnificent war horse, and he needed to leave the valley and enter the low lands.   (You may recall the AD&D Paladin can 'call a war horse' at 4th level).  His horse was in the hands of a brutal master, whom he swore to find and challenge.  A bunch of characters signed on to go with him in pursuit of the vision, and so a sortie was planned.

Mordecai, Shy, Leonidas, Digit, Ireena, Phat Kobra, Grumble, Donavich, and Boris, went on the journey, along with Vladimir, a level  1 magic user apprentice recruited by Moore's guild.  Ireena considered this an official state act, and their first stop was to head into the foothills on the way out of Barovia and visit Constantine's old village (which I learned from the players was called Stradia).  Ireena decided that Stradia would need to become part of Barovia, and the lord of Stradia, Tzefronis, would be given the chance to pledge fealty to the new Baron.

Now, nothing is more boring to me then relating lots of role playing, and this was a session heavy in it.  I'll try and touch only on the high points.  There was a scene akin to a Monty Python sketch trying to get admitted to Lord Tzefronis's tower - "We're envoys of the Lady of Barovia." No, you're not.  We have one already - don't need anymore envoys.  "Open in the name of the Baron".  Nope, don't think so.  Besides, Barovia doesn't have a Baron.  "There is a new Baron!"  How imaginative you are, giving yourself titles.  Good day.  (That kind of stuff).

Eventually, Tzefronis's wily gate guard was overcome, Lord Tzefronis brought to heel, and a few days later the group had descended out of the high vales and re-entered the Upper Davish river valley, anxious to see if there were zombies or ghouls about.  Instead, they ran into a Flannish patrol.

The nice thing about a wilderness trek is I got the chance to use my "What is the party doing when the encounter happens" tables.  A Flannish patrol came across them while they were taking a map break, and Ireena was busy telling a bawdy joke about her husband.  "Oh yes, the phrase, stop fondling your little wooden wand has taken on a whole new meaning to me…"  Gotta love henchmen making fun of their bosses, especially when it's a future wife.  Meanwhile, the new magic user apprentice, Vladimir, sneaking off for a quick smoke, earned the nick name "Vlad the Inhaler".  He was surprised when a patrol of highlanders on small rugged horses rounded the corner.  The players remarked, "His love of the halfling's leaf has clearly clouded his mind".

They made peaceable contact with Egan, the patrol leader, and learned much of the changes wrought in the valley since the previous autumn.  As mentioned in the campaign recap, the Flannish highlanders were at odds with the lowland Oeridians of Sterich.  The Oeridians were the folk that lived in the settled towns of Bovia, Poignard and Mittleberg, and the lord of Mittleberg was preparing a campaign to convert them.  I meant to call to mind historical conflicts like the Franks and Saxons, or the English and Scottish or Welsh.

Egan pointed out how a plague of undead wiped away the decadent lowlanders, and the undead followed the refugees down the valley, attacking Bovia after Poignard and eventually threatening the rich farmland around the capital, Istvin, hundreds of miles away.

Meanwhile, the Flans have moved into the void, slaying any straggler undead left by the horde and forming a large moot in the ruins of one of the old Oeridian villages.  The party traveled with the patrol back to the semi-nomadic encampment over the next few days.  Although many of the characters were Oeridian in race, as representatives of the new Barony, there were opportunities for peace and trade between the two groups, and Egan held in high esteem those who had overthrown the ancient vampire lord of the mountains.  And the Flans wanted allies for when the folk of Istvin tried to reclaim their lost lands.

When Leonidas described the vision of his war horse, Egan confirmed it.  "I know that red-haired man you described in the vision, his name is Bran, and we know that horse as well.   It was caught in the wilds of the valley, perhaps running free after the death of the lowlanders, and Bran's men haven't been able to break it in.  He beats the animal cruelly.  But he's a proud man, and won't easily give up the animal."

When they arrived at the sprawling encampment, there was a pall over the camp.  The chieftain, Cadman, was wasting away after falling victim to a witch's curse.  In the large audience hall, he was attended by healers while he slunk low in his wooden throne, and heard the character's story.  They agreed to peaceful contact and to trade some horses, then they heard Cadman's tale of the witch:

A few nights ago, we were visited by a powerful witch.  She was moving her forces across our lands, a foul woman that walked with a devil at her side.  She had a legion of orcs and a vicious trolls in the nearby hills, and was flown by gargoyles on a palanquin.  

(The players have had at least three run-ins and quests with the witch, so they know her well).

When I told her we wouldn't join her quest, she mocked me.  She said, "The great war is coming.  What does it matter if you've finally won back your lands? One of the great wizards of yore has returned to the world of men, one who knows the lost secrets of Iggwilv and her book of Evil Chaos.  He has joined with the blood drinker that leads Orcus's horde, and together they turn west  to be the ones to rediscover the book first.  They are the first of many to join the hunt - the Red Duke is coming to the south from the Horned Lands, and the Prince of Lost Dreams has crossed into the mortal world in Geoff".


Her speech was amazing and fearful, but still we would not join forces with that foul one.  And so she told me that if we would not lend her our strength, we would have none ourselves; she pronounced a terrible curse upon me, one that none of our druids has been able to cure.  I fear I am dying.

Cadman also went on to report that scouts had reported that the siege of Istvin was dispersing, as if the horde of zombies and ghouls had suddenly become leaderless and returned to their mindless pillaging.  It seemed to corroborate the witch's story that Cyris Maximus, the vampire lord that took control of the horde, had changed his focus, and was now seeking out this evil book with the help of a dark wizard.  The players are convinced the dark wizard is none other than Calcidius, the vile wizard they trapped behind brick and mortar in the Tower of the Stargazer.

This was all bad news for the players.  In previous encounters with the witch, they knew she was a servant of Hell, and was preparing for an upcoming conflict against the forces of the Abyss.  The beginning of her great war seemed nigh at hand.

Mordecai volunteered to attempt a healing the following day.  There was a haughty exchange between Mordecai and the high shaman, the druid Dallas, like Moses versus Pharaoh's wizards, but the chieftain agreed to give Mordecai an attempt on the morrow.  Mordecai prayed for Remove Curse, and the following day, restored the chieftain to full health.  The chieftain decreed there would be a new god in the halls of his people, that there would be space for this "Eternal Spirit" amongst his people, and the druid stormed off, enraged.

Leonidas stepped forward when the chieftain asked if there was some final favor to grant for his health, and he described the warrior Bran.  "I would like to challenge him for the right of the white horse," said Leonidas, and Bran was summoned.  "I will not give up my prize mount to this outsider", spat the horse lord, but Leonidas had been coached on invoking the proper challenge, and Bran agreed to ride against him in a joust.  It was set for that afternoon.

Numerous crowds gathered on the tilting field, as this was considered great entertainment by the hill people.  Bran and his supporters were on one edge of the sward, Leonidas on the other, with spears and swords.  Bran didn't ride the white horse, but had a small, sturdy war horse.  Although the fighting wasn't meant to be to the death, tempers were hot and Bran wasn't going to hold back.

On the first pass, Bran caught Leonidas with a spear and unhorsed him soundly; the paladin fell flat on his back and had lost half his hit points between the double damage charge and the fall.  (Nogal slumped his head on the table in despair - kids take these moments hard).  He quickly got to his feet and pulled his sword, chopping at Bran's spear and forcing the horse lord to dismount as well and fight hand to hand.

Leonidas was a better swordsman, and quickly made up ground as they started trading sword blows, and the final round ended up with simultaneous initiative; Bran rolled a critical, and double damage brought Leonidas down to 2 hit points left.  But Leonidas rolled heavy damage himself, and this was enough to knock  Bran loopy (zero hit points); in terms of the duel, that gave him position to force a submission.  Leonidas had won, and Nogal cheered!

Leonidas won his companion war horse, but as a paladin he arranged to offer recompense to the horse lord, paying a fair market value for the animal and soothing over hurt feelings with his clansmen in the interests of peace.

Now the group turned for home.  They had come away with the purchase of a dozen and a half horses for their use in Barovia, they had annexed a new village, Stradia, established peaceful trade with their new Flannish neighbors, planted a new church, and learned that various forces of evil were on the move.  Future discussions with the Flans might include an alliance against Istvin, but the group didn't commit.

My guess is they'll want game time to advance to where the wizards are done with all their spell transcription (I'll need to consult the calendar, but I think there was about a week left) and they'll use that time to plan a quest.  I'm thinking they'll throw their hat into the ring and mount their own expeditionary force to track down the witch, and find this evil book ahead of Calcidius and his vampire companion.  Should be fun!

Happy Friday the 13th!

My kind of M:TG card!

It's Friday the 13th, and the mind invariably drifts to slasher flicks and cheesy killers in hockey masks.

Okay, well that's what I was thinking about today, at least. Such a long dreary week.  Don't Be Afraid of the Dark came in the mail, and I'm excited to experience the Del Toro remake.  Tonight is a good night for some horror!

Far and away, the worst opponents in any horror game are the psychotic humans - the mad, deranged killers, and the hillbilly clan of cannibals.  When the group's attention is focused on monsters that look the part, they often fail to notice that they've entered the domain of a two-legged monster, that looks just like them, until it's too late.

Implacable and insane human opponents play a key role in a few of my favorite Call of Cthulhu scenarios - let's take a look at The Worm that Walks, and The Hills Rise Wild.

The Worm that Walks is one of the chapters in The Shadows of Yog Sothoth campaign; while the group is visiting a benefactor, they discover a lead that takes them out to an old cabin ("Don't go in the woods!") where something occult may have happened; what's really waiting for them out there are a bunch of characters straight out Texas Chainsaw Massacre.  The signature scene is when one of the killers bursts out of a pile of bones, startling any adjacent investigators, and whacking one of them with a huge axe.

In The Hills Rise Wild, the adventurers are trekking overland in rural Dunwich looking for a fallen meteor.  When they take advantage of some country hospitality, they put themselves at the mercy of a deranged cultist and his downbeaten and abused family.  It's quite creepy.

For a literary reference, take a look at Lovecraft's The Picture in the House.  It's one of the earlier tales, and has an ending reminscent of an Edgar Allen Poe story.  It's an excellently creep story.  A traveler in the Miskatonic Valley enters a lonely farmhouse when caught out in a storm; the minimalist story begins to get unsettling when he starts flipping through an old book and has a progressively more disturbing conversation with the menacing owner of the house.  I don't want to give the ending or twist away if you haven't read it; it's a short story so go check it out yourself.

I haven't been mean enough to put a nasty family of hillbilly cannibals into a regular D&D game; players accustomed to only seeing monsters where they have green skin or tusks would be far too easy to lure in - like shooting fish in a barrel.  But it's time I rectified this egregious oversight.  In the meantime, let me know how you've used "cannibal hillbillies" in the comments.

I'm off to see Don't Be Afraid of the Dark!

Recent Poll Results

I'm off to "the Big City" today, so not much time for a deep thought post.  How about we take a look at how things went with some recent polls?

THE LOCATION FOR THE ADVENTURE LIES BEYOND TREACHEROUS WATERS. CAN THE PLAYER'S SHIP SINK ALONG THE WAY, KILLING EVERYONE?

Yes - If it happens, time to roll new guys (31%), No - The story would be over before it began (69%).

See - I tricked you - I put in the words "story" in the second answer, a clear tip off that making rulings to fit some notion of a predetermined story is the wrong answer, prima facie.  By now you should realize story is irrelevant; no player characters have plot immunity.  If they choose to hop in a boat and head into unsafe waters without precautions, of course the ship can sink.  Blub blub.  That all being said, I appreciate the well-thought out comments in the post - many folks were fine with raining havoc down on players that sailed unwisely into ice-berg laden northern waters, but rather than making a sinking ship equal instant death, they advocated a wide range of complications - ship damage, lost cargoes, lost resources, man overboard, forced to abandon ship to a lifeboat, tons of options that still get the point across.  I'll be a wiser judge with all your useful suggestions in hand.

WHAT'S YOUR PREFERRED METHOD FOR ABILITY SCORE GENERATION?

3d6 in order, no adjustment (44%), 3d6, rearrange and adjust (14%), 4d6, rearrange and adjust (12%), Modern point buy (7%), Something else (21%).

3d6 in one form or another was the popular choice in my circles; from the comments, I got the sense the folks that picked "something else" were doing 3d6 with the adjustment scheme from Moldvay BX, and I probably needed to call that out specifically - BX called for 3d6 in order, limited adjustments, but no rearranging.   From previous polls, I get the sense by-the-book AD&D sits around 10-15% in terms of active play so the 4d6 result makes sense.  I see a lot of Advanced Edition Companion in use with classic D&D versions.

The 1970's Sandbox as a Post-Modern Experience

We often use the term "emergent stories" to describe what happens in the free-form sandbox style of play.  The DM presents an environment for play, without a preordained plot or story, and the players exert freedom of choice in how they choose to interact with the setting.  As they move about the place, gathering information and making decisions, we derive enjoyment from the resolution of conflicts, the approaches used to overcome challenges, the successes and failures.  Many things come together at the table - the DM's artistry of description and presentation, often humorous role playing by the players, and the anticipation of seeing how the dice roll at a given time.  "We explore dungeons, not characters".  The story "emerges".

Herb pointed out an observation he made regarding emergent story in the sandbox - he called it Memoir as Story.  (Definitely go read it, if you missed it previously).  Herb's analysis hit me hard in two places - first in how it should define the goal of actual play, and then how it informs the after-play report.

When you step back and consider a person's day-to-day life, it's a meaningless string of incidental events - morning coffee, a drive to work, stop at the drive-thru for a bagel, reading the morning email.  Is that upcoming meeting with a client important on a cosmic scale?  How about on a personal scale?  It's only after the fact that we fully appreciate the meaning of life's mundane events.  Herb's point was that the biographer or memoir writer superimposes importance on life's mundane occurrences in order to create a narrative out of an otherwise undifferentiated string of incidents.  Your life is a sandbox adventure, my friends.  We all suffer a bit from apophenia and pareidolia - we're the unsung protagonists of our individual lives.

It's been many years since I've stalked the halls of academia, so forgive me if I'm misusing the term, but when comparing the sandbox to story games, wouldn't that make the D&D sandbox a post-modern experience?  The argument is that the individual creates a narrative where none exists, by attributing subjective meaning to things.  The party happened to stumble into the toughest monster on a dungeon level at an inopportune time, but they manage to prevail due to some lucky rolls; it's only afterwards, when resistance crumbles and they learn they're left as the toughest hombres on the block, that they declare, "Boy that was some climax to clearing that dungeon level".  Prior to fixing the definition in place, the entire experience was sans plot and fairly elastic.  Who knew how it would turn out?  The other piece that's interesting is that there's no one version of the truth; since each individual constructs their own mental narrative, If you have five players, they could come away from the experience with five distinct stories.

Speaking of the number five, I'll reserve special antipathy for that darling of the new school set - the "five room dungeon".  I'll defer the invective for now; I don't want to derail this post too much with an impromptu barrage of vitriol.

Back to the main item, the other place the Story as Memoir metaphor holds truth is in the process of writing a campaign journal or session report.  The journal becomes an external artifact reflecting this internal process of attaching meaning to events; categorizing, sequencing, sifting, and otherwise editing our memories in order to present a view of what happened that's compelling for someone else to read.  I know when I write game reports for Gothic Greyhawk, I try and skip as many trivialities as possible.

Here's the lesson for sandbox dungeon masters; don't get caught up with concerns about story or driving the action in your campaign to any preordained conclusions.  The human condition is such that your players will take care of superimposing a narrative structure on what's happening for you; when it's all said and done, the group will be able to reminisce when a story arc started, when it was getting intense, and when it concluded - even if there was no premeditated story there to start.

Your job is to fill the sandbox with compelling elements - interesting places to visit, challenges waiting to test intrepid adventures, and strongly characterized NPCs.  The rest will take care of itself.


We explore dungeons, not characters:  Does anyone know who originated this quote?  I recall it was part of Evreuax's Sig on Dragonsfoot some years back, so it predated my entry into blogging.  Just curious - it sums up the old school gaming experience on so many levels.