The Breather Before Town

It should be clear how I've been addressing this subject for these last weeks.   I started by exploring the DM's agenda with regards to role-playing, then discussing character generation and how the game deliberately limits the player.  There followed a discussion of the DM stepping aside to let the players set the game's agenda.  With that sorted, I talked about using the game's progress to set up the players for future events, while on their way.  A proposed dungeon was used as a simple pretext for game play, but nonetheless the next post addressed entering the dungeon and how that could be handled.

Having crossed the threshold into the dungeon, I discussed what inside might immediately confront the players; this progressed to a discussion of social monsters and the dungeon's layout, giving greater depth and rationality to that.  Without further ado, I brought forward a post on setting up combats; then plunder; then establishing clues that would take the party further into the dungeon's grip.  Finally, last Friday, I examined the subject of the players not having enough oomph to go on.  That brings us to here.

All this hasn't produced a lot of discussion, but I recognise the reader has been keenly interested and following along, appreciating the point-by-point elaboration on these subjects.  If nothing else, I should hope I've communicated that there's quite a lot going on with every facet of the game.  It matters that we're able to go on from here — and so we shall.  The players must bring out there gear and plunder from the dungeon, address their health, divide up healing, then choose whether it's practical to go all the way back to town or find a nearer place to hole up.  It depends much on how badly the party is hurt.

Before going into that, however, I wanted to pause briefly and talk about the method being employed with this series.  With each, there are three facets being examined: (a) what's gone before, that's brought the players to this place; (b) what specifically needs to be addressed in the present surroundings; and (c) how do these things press the party forward in some manner that keeps the game moving, without allowing a conclusion.

Winning the fight ends nothing; climbing out from the dungeon is not the end of the adventure.  There's obviously more dungeon that hasn't been addressed, there are the problems of getting back to town, and there's the power we have as DM to initiate some other ongoing situation or crisis that beckons the party's involvement in yet some other thing.

Recently, I stumbled into an ancient book by the name of Leucippe and Clitophon, written by Achilles Tatius in the mid-2nd century AD.  Take a moment and read the plot summary on wikipedia.  By the standards of a modern novel, it's ludicrous and melodramatic in scope, with new characters popping up to suddenly become villains, deaths that turn out not to be deaths, shipwrecks, kidnappings, betrayals and other such madness.  But as a narrative for a Dungeons and Dragons campaign, it makes perfect sense.  Troubles beget troubles, with the players jumping from frying pan to frying pan, while still choosing which way to jump when the set up's been made plain and open.

We know that when the players enter the dungeon that there's going to be fighting; no one's surprised when it takes place.  We know that eventually the characters will run low on hit points even if they don't die.  We know they'll have to retreat.  None of these things are mysteries.  Yet the players can choose how they address these incidents that arise.  They choose when to keep going, when to retreat, and most important of all, how to retreat.  Later, it's up to them if they ever come back; no one's holding a gun to their head.  If it makes better sense, in this moment, to rescue the fellow with the children from the hangman's noose, leading to the adventure of what brought the noose about in the first place, and where that goes, then the players can follow up, or not, according to their whim.  Our role as DM is to go on making things happen; to go on finding things the players have to overcome; to create new situations the players have never met before.  To catch them off guard.  To thrill them ... over and over, no matter how many sessions we play with these same characters as they progress from weaklings to overlords.

I'm hoping the value I can add by deconstructing each part can provide insight into DMing skills that haven't been discussed, even with a blog this size.  By putting myself in the place of DM as I imagine the players moving onto the next thing — hauling their gear back to town — I can put the reader in both my place and that of the players also.  How would you address the players' return to safety and security: "You leave the dungeon ... and you're back in town" — would you do it like that?

I hope not.  I trust that we can see the players situation is tenuous at the moment, something we want to exploit with the setting.  They're hurt.  They're overloaded.  They may even be carrying an unconscious party member.  What might happen along the way.  Whom might they meet?  What's been going on in town since their leaving?  The setting is rightly in a state of flux ... and it in our interest to play up the melodrama somewhat, since the players aren't here to hoe crops.  They want drama, especially the kind that makes them think, that offers problems they can solve, that gives them something to exploit — if they're bright enough for that.

Thankfully, I can go on with this series indefinitely, even if the players do return to town safely.  Even if they arrive at the same dungeon again; because there are always different things to address.  I've not nearly said all there is to say about combat, treasure or laying further adventure hooks.  We could talk about returning to town in fifty different ways, because the game is that thick and deep.  There's never any "done" here.  There's always more.

The World Turtle Bears the World

I know my readers have been waiting.  Forgive me for a little preamble first.

Sterling, I got the book.  I picked it up from my mailbox just before heading out today, so I've been able to glance through it and read your kind letter.  My grandmother was also a schoolteacher.

After not driving for 20 years, my partner Tamara has spent the time since the relax of Covid here in Canada chasing all the details that would let her regain her driver's license.  This involved communicating with the Michigan bureaucracy, where her last license was issued, getting Alberta to believe Michigan, retaking her learner's license test, taking driving courses to invigorate her driving habits, taking the test twice and passing, as of Thursday six days ago.  Tamara was anxious to get a car as soon as possible, so the last days have been filled with a visit to the bank, arranging financing, finding a car and then buying one, which we did yesterday, amid a rather ludicrous car price inflation that's ongoing.  We got a good deal on a Ford Edge.  Today, we took it out for a five hour drive around outside the city, visiting a provincial park and regaining some of our skills (driving comfortably in a new car for Tamara, navigating for me).  Once upon a time I had an interest in being a navigator for a rally car, but no opportunity to pursue that ever emerged.

Tomorrow, I'll be getting a full analysis from the lab for my yearly checkup; I've had to wait two months for an appointment.  It's possible I have a hernia; that's added to the list of other old man diseases I might have.  No biggie, but it helps fill up the week.

Then, Sunday, on the 14th, Tamara and I will be getting married.  We've been together continuously since March 30, 2002, so it's going to be a very simple ceremony.  We have the license, there's no need for a blood test and the arrangements have been made.  Just one more thing on my plate.  Otherwise, it's been work, exercise and juggling advice about cars, marriage brokers and other minor details.  This is why I haven't undertaken the post I promised.

Gee.  I hope I remember what I was going to talk about.

Looking around for a neutral example to discuss, to kick off a campaign description, this comes from  the one drive page from the Blue Bard, discussing Geoul.  I plan to discuss it out of context; if you'd like it IN context, read as much as you can.  It's time well spent.

"Bablemum, the great sultanate of the utter south has long been protected from its arch enemy, the Society of the Jaw: this by virtue of powerful leaders and, according to common myth, a seldom spoken of secret organization known as the Esoteric Order of the Twilight Princess.

"You live well, plying your trade and making reasonable money. But recent years have brought unrest to your heart and you begin longing for something more.

"Inquiry and risk draw you south, across the Six Kingdoms, to the quaint, hibiscus shadowed lanes of Geoul. Geoul is an ancient town of vineyards, scholars and painters, and there you receive your initiation into the Esoteric Order of the Twilight Princess -- hopeful that your new title "Secret Master" will begin your path to greater things. But shortly after joining this secret society, the building you were initiated in burns and the man who inducted you, a Master Elect of Nine named Nihs'Lohc, vanishes without trace."

I said with the last post that you'll decide the life the players will live ... here, they're being told that they're an initiate, which brings responsibility and awareness of a JOB the players will have in the campaign.  Succeed, and they're doing what's expected of them.  Fail, and there will be consequences.  If the EOTP works like most like orders, don't expect a lot of gratitude for doing their job.  That's why we're initiating them in the first place.

This sets a powerful tone for the engagement of the players, one utterly different from the one I set in my world, but NOT wrong.  This is important.  When I said that the campaign needed an ethic, I absolutely did not say it had to be my ethic.  Here is an ethic.  Here is a path to greater things (not necessarily known to a mere initiate).  Further, here's personal responsibility.  Their mentor, the guy that got them here, disappears and leaves them to bear up on their own.  "Get with it soldier.  Don't fuck up."

I said that you'll decide the monsters that will try to kill the players, and where they dwell.  What is the "Society of the Jaw"?  Do you think it's solved by one adventure?  By a string of adventures?  This is an arch enemy to a great sultanate.  Whatever The Jaw is, there are members in every village; in every round table; secretly camped near every military post; in elaborate tunnels under every city quarter; attached to every priesthood ... indeed, hiding under a lettuce leaf in the players' garden.  The Jaw are everywhere ... and they are the players' deepest, darkest nightmare of an enemy.  No where is safe, and no one can be trusted.  There are no "adventures."  There is a continuous, fluid power struggle that moves seamlessly from day-to-day.  Victories are as momentary as keeping back the tide; defeats are the smashing apart of age-old institutions and whole cities.  The moment the party finishes off the "big bad" in his lair, which they've spent twenty sessions getting to the bottom of, they must dodge an assassin's knife seconds before they learn that all this effort has been taken to kill a mere lieutenant.  There is no final victory, no final end to some episodic adventure.  NO, there's life.  Theirs, the world's, the battle to defend what's good, and their will to go on.  That is all.

I said that you'll decide what's real and what lies the players will be told.  Do the players really believe that these quaint, hibiscus shadowed lanes are what they appear to be?  Are they so foolish to think that the vineyards, scholars and painters are merely what they look like?  What is this entity they've been drafted into?  Are they truly the enemy of The Jaw?  Or ARE they The Jaw?  Do they know?  They cannot know.  They must decide on the evidence before them, from running to running, whom they really serve ... and what might be the true nature of what these beings pretend to represent.  They're not granted the luxury of absolute knowledge about right and wrong.  No one is.  For all they know, they're serving the enemies of Bablemum, and not it's protectors; for all they know, they're comfortable with that.  Perhaps there's no good reason to defend Bablemum at all.  In any case, it's up to them to decide.  This is THEIR life.  THEIR loyalties and actions.  THEY must choose the best path for themselves ... while always being careful what they trust.

After all, I said that you'll decide why all the things in your world live and what they want and what they'll die to defend — except the players.  The players are hurled into this maelstrom without guides, without assurances ... unless as a DM you're stupid enough to give it to them.  As DM, you hold the key to your setting.  The PLAYERS must find their own key, to unlock how to survive the DM's setting.  This is the game.

Let me draw on another quote from the Blue Bard.

"Here, you can see a fleshed version of the Country of Ormolu (formerly known as Wardale) and the city of Sanctuary that abuts the Marches. A good deal of player time has been spent in this vicinity, investigating the ruins of Copper Grove, exploring the Misthalls and Amharc Mountains, braving the crags of Geir Loe (the great peak that overshadows Sanctuary) and striking out on perilous missions into the march land."

I wrote with the last post, you need a place for the player characters to start.  Here it is.  And on the surface, suffering from the mindset with which D&D has poisoned you, you foolishly look at the above description as a series of "adventures."  But is it?  Are there any words in the above that state clearly that there's been an end to any of these activities?  Does "investigating the ruins" state clearly that the ruins have been cleaned out, or that the investigation is closed?  Is there no more exploring of the mountains and crags left to do?  Are "missions" a short hand for "adventures," with a beginning and an end, or are they in fact just temporal raids in an ongoing, potentially life-long operation where a thousand raids would still not clean out every villain, monster and demon from these awful places?

It depends on how you see it.  The "adventure" model is a stupid child-like perception of social realities ... the sort of thing that we watched naively when we believed that once the cops arrested the drug dealers that "closed the book" on drug crimes for good.  Nothing ENDS!  And why should it?  Why shouldn't another visit to the Copper Grove or Misthalls reveal yet one more secret, one further deeper undiscovered place, one other game changing fact that obliterates all our foregoing preconceptions?  Would you care as a player?  Would the ennui of knowing that you'll never kill every last orc, or root out every last evil treant from this forest, or kill the last city rat, sour your desire to play D&D?  Not me.  Not any serious player I've ever encountered.  Imagine bringing out another orc and have the players cry, "But I thought we killed the last one!  This sucks!"  More likely, "O gawddamn, another?  All right, I'll kill it ... you get the next one."

The mountains, the ruins, the halls and the march lands are always there, always ready for another sojourn, as soon as we recoup, attend to a few matters at home, clean out the chicken coops and whatever.  This makes sense in the game world.  The problems don't just go away.  They're not just solved.  At first level, they're surface problems ... but as the players go deeper, they find their original perspectives adjusted; they realise the orcs are just dupes, that the real evil is something worse ... until later on they realise how unsophisticated and artless was their earlier comprehension.  These initial problems are just turtles standing on the backs of turtles ... and it's turtles all the way down.  What really makes the world turn; what really drives the model; that's yet to be known.  But when it is learned, wow.  It'll blow the players' minds.

Yes, I'm saying that if you think you know what the ethic of my game world is, that's only because you've only played or seen the surface.  There are things about my world that I've never told anyone.  And they're BIG.

I said that as a DM, the monsters need to have their own agendas and things they'll die for.  They are alive, too.  And they're just as annoyed at these players that keep returning and making trouble as anyone.  You can't keep going back to the same mountains and ruins forever without someone powerful deciding that's it for you.  Sure, in the beginning you're a pest.  You're a tiny chigger draining your little bit of blood off the immense body whose existence you can't imagine.  But you take enough blood from that body ... you get big enough to get noticed, and felt ... something gargantuan and fast moving is going to slap you so fast and hard you won't know your body is about to be paste across the surface flesh of that being.  That's the game too.  If a DM isn't keeping one arm tied behind his or her back.

Sooner or later, the plundered become the plunderers.

Now.  If you want further explanation, and examples, you'll need to ask a question.  I understand this just fine, down to the bottom turtle.  If you want to understand it also, you'll have to tell me what you don't understand, so I can help you.  And everyone else reading this.

​

Swimming Movement and Endurance

Every refining of a particular rule opens up so many other things, it becomes like playing whack-a-mole.  Working on constitution pressed me to finally establish some forced march rules, very much simplified from concepts I proposed last year.  And that in turn means having to upgrade the endurance for swimming, so that I'm dragged making tables for that too.  It all gets in the way of my posting here, so I end up having to steal from the wiki to create something here so I can get back to design.

SWIMMING

Swimming in the 17th century was a rare ability. Most characters able to swim will gain the ability through the character background generator, through their abilities or because their fathers were fishermen, sailors, boatmen, explorers, shipwrights or buccaneers. Some characters, particularly druids and fighter classes specializing in waterborne adventuring, will be able to swim through their sage abilities.

Swimming is not possible while more than more than 5% encumbered - clothing and magic armor (which still has weight) must be considered in all calculations. More than 5% encumbrance will drag creatures below the water surface, making it impossible to breathe.

The table shown indicates the speed that the character can manage, depending on their strength and how much energy is used. "Sprinting" is swimming all out, as hard as the character can. "Sustained" describes the speed moved as the character keeps pace and breathes normally. Finally, an "exhausted" swimmer would be one that is pushing past their comfort level, so that they are moving slower and saving whatever effort they have left.

As an example, a character with a 14 strength that chooses to sprint, will swim a distance of 8½ combat hexes per round (faster than walking but not as fast as running). This would be 17 total hexes, about slightly over the length of a swimming pool every 24 seconds.

The total base distance, shown in feet, describes the approximate distance the character will be able to swim before they must make a constitution check due to fatigue. Characters that are sprinting or swimming in a sustained manner will get tired. This is determined by the total number of hexes that have been swum, as indicated by the second table.

The three columns under sprinting, sustained and exhausted shows the number of hexes that can be crossed before the character is unable to swim at that speed, according to their constitution. Note that characters with a three constitution do not have the fortitude to swim at all. Those with a four constitution can manage no more than a very short exhausted swim, for a distance of no more than five feet. And finally, characters with a five constitution cannot sprint.

Once a character has sprinted as far as they are able, they must adopt a sustained pace. They cannot sprint again until they have rested for five minutes, or 25 rounds. Having rested, they may sprint again, but only for one half the distance as before. Afterwards, they must rest for at least twice as long. This continues until the character is no longer able to sprint.

Once a character has swum at a sustained pace as long as they are able, they are no longer able to swim at that pace, nor are they able to sprint, for the remainder of that day (until they have had a full night's rest). This is also true if they have both sprinted and kept a sustained pace for the total time of both combined, as shown on the table. From then on, the character can only swim while exhausted.

For example, a character with a 12 constitution sprints for 11 rounds, then gets out and rests. They then sprint again, for 5 rounds (fractions are ignored), for a total of 16 rounds. The same character then swims at a sustained pace for 29 more rounds. This makes a total of 45 rounds ... the base total of both sprinting and sustained rounds. Thereafter, the character is limited to swimming while exhausted.

Once the character has crossed the total number of hexes they can swim while exhausted, they must make a constitution check. A successful check will let the character swim for an additional 25 rounds, whereupon another check must be made.

Failing this check will indicate that the humanoid's lung capacity/heart/muscles have given out, whereupon the character will slip helplessly below the surface of the water, unable to continue swimming.

Humanoids that are naked and greased may increase their sprinting speeds and endurance (potential distance) by 10%. Transformations that provide fins, flippers or webbed-fingers can increase all speeds and endurance by 30%. Gills or water breathing can increase maximum distances by 100%.

Swimming distances should be adjusted where currents and river flow affect freedom of movement. This will depend on the speed of the current.

Swimming speed will also be affected by wind speed. Reduce both speed and endurance by 20% in a gentle breeze (force 3), then 25% more for each point of force above that: moderate (45%), fresh (70%), and strong breeze (95%). No meaningful swimming can be performed in heavier conditions, which will make the swimmer helpless among the buffeting waves.

Treading Water does not allow any travel but will suspend a constitution check for 1 round per point of constitution.

See Also
Beachcomber
Diving
Free-diving
Oceanography
Player Characters
Sea Life
Swimming Combat

Grapple Throwing

Some real D&D, then. I've never had actual rules for this before. About time I should think.

THROWING A GRAPPLE

A grapple is a hook or claw used to catch or hold something. When tied to a rope and thrown to catch a grip, the grapple aids in climbing. A grapple may also be used to drag the bottom of a waterway, catch items floating on the surface of the water and be used to grapple vessels together for convenience or as preliminary to boarding.

Throwing a grapple involves hurling the claw outwards with success, then hooking the claw tightly against resistance by pulling the rope taut. Snagging off the rope to keep it taut is often needed if the rope is then used to retain its hold or to support weight. The process of throwing a grapple is not unlike rolling a d20 to hit. The table shown indicates the armor class that the thrower needs to hit for the grapple to be successfully hooked.

The process requires the full movement rate of the thrower for that melee round. This includes testing the rope if successful, but not snagging the rope off, which requires 2 action points (AP). Failing includes the time needed to hold the rope until the grapple comes to a rest and avoid being hit (automatic) if relevant. It requires 2 rounds to ready a grapple to be used again.

Striking an enemy with a thrown grapple or one that is used in combat will cause 1-4 damage. The table below shows the grapple’s range adjustments.

See Also,
Campaign
Combat
Grappling & Ungrappling Ships

Infravision (rule)

Because I did some work on the dwarf, I ran up against infravision ... and it reminded me that I have needed to write proper rules about that for a long time. So, some thoughts first.

For a long time, infravision has been a confusing and inconsistently applied rule meant to provide non-human races, particularly those used for character creation, a means of seeing in the dark that humans do not possess.  Coined from infrared, usually a misunderstood form of radiation that includes, but is not limited to, thermal radiation. Because of this relationship, and too many films depicting night vision and “heat-vision,” the clarity of infravision has suffered by this connection. I hope here to settle issues surrounding the ability and better define its use.

Inconsistencies

The first inconsistency is that explaining what infravision is requires the use of terms that would not exist in a fantasy or pre-scientific era culture. The words we’d use – radiation, wavelengths, photons, the visible spectrum, electromagnetism and electromagnetic fields, quanta, radiant energy, oscillations of fields, vibrational excitation and so on, all necessary to explain what infrared light is, are simply anachronistic in the game world and not particularly useful in defining game rules.  Nor is it enough to say, “magic causes it,” since we are left with the problem of “what” is actually caused? What exactly is the radiation that is seen, how does it originate and how do we measure it for game purposes? Without a strong background in hardcore physics, the best option is probably to say that infravision operates like perfectly normal vision, with caveats, and forget trying to measure what infrared light is.

The rules describing infravision quitting at a given distance, say 60 feet, has long been a point of contention. We have examples where human visibility is reduced, by the amount of light, fog or smoke, but as these things diminish at varying rates depending on the amount of light, water vapor or smoke, we don’t have any vision limitations that end specifically at a precise distance. How much is infravision diminished at 20 feet, or 40 feet?  We are left with the question, if there is more infrared radiation, how come this does not increase the visibility range of the ability?  Since the maximum distance named is utterly arbitrary, I say get rid of this maximum and simply say that a creature has infravision or it does not.

Next, we have this rule where “normal light” spoils infravision. This does not make sense. Even without the physics, it is plain knowledge that the infrared spectrum IS a part of normal light; it is the same light, just photons moving in a longer wavelength. We might just as well say that seeing the color magenta spoils our ability to see the color blue. Infravision should mean that the creature’s visible window of light is expanded and wider than the human’s window. This may be hard for us to comprehend with our limitations, but rationally a creature with infravision should be able to see all the wavelengths of visible light within its given range with equal ability.

This means that a creature with infravision, inside a circle of human-normal light, should be fully capable of seeing outside that circle without any effect on the creatures ability to see the infrared spectrum. I can see where some would prefer to preclude this ability, but consistency demands that we recognize the way that light works in this case or we rid ourselves of infravision altogether. The benefit is not such an increase over the original power infravision grants that it overbalances the game; there are certainly benefits that humans have that continues to encourage players choosing human as a race option for their characters. And if they do not, so what? The game remains the same.

Use

Very well, how does infravision actually work?

We have two lingering pictures of enhanced seeing in the dark that we’ve gleaned from films and television: night vision and thermal imaging. Thermal imaging reveals the thermal radiation emitted from sources. It is the way that I have personally used infravision for decades. Night vision is a technological means of enhancing very small quantities of light so that things can be seen in a clear, close-to-normal fashion (lacking the distinction of color). Animals that have better night vision than humans are able to see better at night because of differences in morphology and the anatomy of their eyes, which collect more light due to a larger aperture and a tapetum lucidum.

We might imagine something crossbred between these images, where the infravision-possessing creature’s brain translates the mix of thermal imaging and increased radiation detection into an image consistent with what a human sees … for no other reason than this ends any arguments about being able to “detect” emotional states or other details about the environment in a way the human does not. Except for a unique ability to see better in darkness, we don’t want to ascribe further knowledge collection to infravision.

I suggest that if any light source exists to a specified degree, whether it is a sliver of natural light through a door or an artificial source like a slightly glowing magic orb or a candle, infravision allows effectively normal vision equal to our ability when outside in broad daylight, including color. Just as a dim vampire light on a computer will eventually enable a human to see the whole room, the infravision-possessing creature will have this ability without a waiting period. I suggest the equivalent of 1 candlepower of external light within a distance of 60 feet. This measure of light is precise enough that as a DM, I can comfortably define whether or not it exists.  Note that the sky, whatever the conditions, would always fit this designation. The only other limitation to vision would be line of sight.

Any outside source of light that is less than 1 candle, whatever the distance underground, would be sufficient to provide twilight illumination. Such conditions would only exist underground. Because thermal radiation is part of the range of sight, and since the creature itself exudes sufficient thermal radiation, regardless of the actual subterranean environment, for the infravision-possessing creature to see, there would always be sufficient light for twilight illumination. Again, the only other limitation would be line of sight.

This is all I can think of at the moment.