The Building Block

I have been thinking further on earlier writings about treasure, and treasure systems, and the distribution of treasure. If my gentle reader will be patient, I believe I will try to produce several posts outlining my concerns, and my proposal towards solving problems I discussed here. To begin with, however, I believe there needs to be some discussion on the outline of society.

For sometime now I have divided the various strata of society according to their status and economic position: I call these groups peasant, laborer, artisan, exemplary, attendant, adherent, zealot, adventurer, celebrity, title holder and liege.

The first group would be non-leveled persons. A peasant includes anyone who is lacking in all status, does not own land and in fact exists under a limited freedom (tied to the land). A laborer is anyone lacking in education and who performs unskilled work. An artisan has been given a directed education to perform a single skill. An exemplary includes persons who have obtained several skills and advanced education, but who remain untrained as leveled persons or who perform unusual occupations. An attendant would include those who directly support leveled persons, though they themselves remain zero level; a man-at-arms would be an attendant.

The second group would be leveled persons. An adherent would have the adequate skills to be leveled, without possessing extraordinary abilities; they would adhere to their class structure, serving as functionaries such as parish priests, city officials, laboratory workers and so on. A zealot would be an adherent who has adopted a particular political or religious calling. An adventurer would include persons who explore or who serve as freelancers. A celebrity, or hero, would be an adventurer who has had notable success. A title holder would include the nobility, or persons who have risen to the highest rank in their profession, such as admirals, bishops, marshals or guildmasters. Finally, a liege would include masters of primary political divisions, of religious groups or class-based organizations.

These classifications are meant to be flexible, and are not based on any moral principle. For example, both a harlot and a ferry operator would be considered exemplaries, while both mercenary captains and religious ascetics would be considered adventurers. The principal purpose of the above organization is not to describe the general occupation the individual serves within the society, only his or her general importance and/or success. I find the ordering useful for determining an NPC’s ability stats and probable level.

Having outlined the above, when I mention a peasant and a peasant’s possessions, I refer to the typical hovel, in enough repair to keep out the cold, utensils and furniture of a crude nature created by the individuals themselves. There would never be any coin, as peasants do not leave their small hamlets and things are never for sale in such places for there are no storefronts, not even peddlers. Possessions of every kind that a player might find valuable don’t exist. If a party were to attack an ordinary hamlet, kill everyone in it and seize every good they could find, there would be nothing in any of the peasant huts that should be of any hard value.

However…there would be food, and there would be livestock.

What exactly is a “hamlet”? By and large both gamers and movie makers plunk hamlets hither and there in fictional worlds with very little thought. Such villages usually lack any political structure beyond a token leader, who rarely has any more ability or status than the grubby peasants themselves—at best, he might have a bigger house, or in the case of Beowulf, a private room in the great lodge with a slightly better bed.

For a period in parts of Northern Europe, this has some basis in reality—if you see your world existing prior to 8th century Earth…in which case there should be no trade, no markets, and nothing your party does not make itself out of hide, bones and wood. Metal swords should not exist in your world, nor should stirrups or plentiful food. Most items, such as books, wands, magic rings and the like should be incredibly rare, and definitely from a land far, far away.

That is because once there are fields to farm and livestock to breed, the threat of such things being pillaged will demand the creation of a social structure which includes defense and the mastery of labor. But before we can continue with the description of that mastery, let me answer the lone voice in the gallery who will argue that Norse societies continued to be structured on the singular longhouse for all the members of society, from the king on down. I’d like to answer that the society so suggested was based upon an economy of pillage, wherein virtually everything was seized from everywhere the Norsemen of that period could reach. An examination of Norse history will show that virtually every present urban center in Norway and much of Sweden was founded after 1500, after the spread of agriculture to those regions, and that prior to that time the total population was scant, scattered and lacking in education, art, architecture, medicine and so on.

Very well. Let us take a typical manse from the middle European period, circa 1300 to 1500, and let us apply D&D to its organization. To begin with, the manse must come into existence through the spread of population. While many of the cities in western Germany or France were coming into existence in and about 800, much of Poland and Eastern Europe was founded between 900 and 1400. As groups broke new ground, labor was imported and fields cut and tilled along water sources. In many cases, peasants who had separated from society were the first to arrive, such as would later happen in Kentucky and Tennessee. In other cases, whole groups led by what I would call zealots (leveled persons with a single purpose) would seek a new land to establish a religious or political entity, such as what would later happen in Massachusetts or Virginia.

Either way, a typical manse would form around a dual relationship: the lord’s manor and the peasant’s village. Each peasant would be given the right to farm a section of land—in some cultures these sections were mixed up, as with communes, and some cultures would have isolated farms. Typically the amount of land that could be reasonably tilled and managed by a human being (often without animals to help) would be 30 acres. During the period, the amount of grain this would produce was paltry—yields were typically 1.3 bushels per acre. A bushel is marginally over 65 lbs., so the total production of the grains would be 2,535 lbs. This will give 42 lbs. of flour per bushel, or 1,638 lbs of flour, the equivalent of 2,457,000 calories.

If you eat 1,500 calories a day (and many peasants ate approximately that much, making them less than active would-be defenders), your 30 acre farm will produce enough grain to feed a family of four the year round, with 10% of your total yield available for shipping out as taxes.

You can then help subsidize your food intake by obtaining a few chickens (which will produce eggs or more chickens if they don’t die of disease), berries or game from the forest (if it isn’t a forest restricted to peasants) or gifts/festivals deriving from the manse. You can see why peasants might be inclined to poach from the forest or the local brook, remembering always that such places were often reserved for the use of the manse itself, which I will get to describe in good time.

The peasant’s week was divided into three parts: one day of the week, Sunday, working was not permitted for religious reasons. Three days of the week, the peasant was permitted to work on his land and gather food as he was able. And three days of the week the peasant was expected to pick up and head over to the manse in order to service the lord’s land or residence.

Usually the lord would have a considerable household to provide for, luxury needs and a desire for an income that would allow for the obtaining of goods and materials from outside the manse, so his land would be extensive. Typically a manse measured about three miles on a side, or nine square miles in total. I know that D&D would like this to be a 267 square mile area (20-mile hex), but I’ve never found any material supporting that claim, so lets just assume that Gygax pulled the number out of his ass or that he simply failed to mention that more than 96% of the land would be unoccupied forest. Of course, having mapped out a lot of Europe, I should point out that a 20-mile hex west of Russia without a sizable town (more than 500 persons) in it is a rare thing indeed … moreover, virtually every such hex would have upwards of 20 manses present. But setting that aside …

Within the 9-square-mile manse (5,760 acres), about 40 peasant families would occupy 1,200 acres; meadow for livestock would measure about 1,800 acres; forest for wood and for pigs, another 1,800 acres; and about 1,000 acres would be personal land for the manse itself: orchards, fields, fortifications, a wooden or stone central structure, possibly a pond and probably shops for the production of cloth, wine, oils and so on.

Those peasants serving the lord three times a week would typically elect two of their number to serve as officials: in my world, these would typically be zero level exemplaries, or possibly adherents, depending on the affluence of the town. In either case, both the hayward (or hedge warden) and the reeve would be elected by the peasants to oversee the work done and to ensure that no peasant failed to meet their obligations or duties.

Sometimes, certain peasants would have unusual skills: one family might be made of carpenters, who would serve those three days repairing the lord’s house before returning to his lands. Another family might be masons. Often designated families were made of herders or woodcutters … who nevertheless would also work as farmers in order to obtain their food. The wood that was cut would not be sold, you understand – that came much later. Instead, the wood would be cut during the days of service to the lord and that wood would be taken to the manse for use there. Such peasants would be considered laborers and artisans.

There would also be a class of artisans who did not farm land, but who were either subsidized by the lord for continuous labor, or who took a percentage from the peasants for servicing their needs. For example, the miller, who ground wheat into flour by use of the mill constructed with the help of the carpenter, would take a slight fee in flour for services. Vintners, chandlers (candle makers), tanners, weavers and so on working directly for the lord would take their wages in food from the lord’s land and from the tax gathered from peasant fields. All such persons would be considered exemplaries in my system, with laborers serving under them who would add their manual labor to the exemplary’s knowledge and skill.

Finally, a small contingent of men would serve as the lord’s personal retinue: as I said before, these would be attendants: men-at-arms. Other attendants might include personal, capable servants, dressmaids, cooks who produce food for the lord and lady, and so on.

The master of the servants, the steward, the official records keepers or accountants in the house, the clergyman who provided spiritual guidance – for the most part these would all be adherents. Leveled persons, perhaps half a dozen, who keep everything running smoothly. They have little interest in stepping outside their roles, but they are able to cast healing spells or cantrips when needed, or manage any slight rebellion that might occur as they would have more hit points and better fighting ability than the average peasant.

Depending on the importance of the manse, its period of existence, it might be overseen by a zealot, an adventurer or a celebrity. Any manse which would be managed by a title holder would be much larger, having expanded from its early beginnings to be a considerable citadel, the peasant village having swollen into a polis, complete with stockyards, warehouses, artisans, a criminal element and so on. For the description of a typical manse, however, it is most likely that the lord is only an ex-adventurer or a zealot, the offspring of a long family of lords who have always managed these lands. Keep in mind that the zealot in question would merely be a person bred into his state of mind, with no aspirations other than to manage the land itself. Not a fanatic, per se, but merely “single minded.”

This, then, is the substantial unit of income for my world. The farm producing food; the moderate factory producing agricultural goods or possibly stone from a quarry within the manse, or metal from a mine; a small church built for only the lord and the peasants; livestock raised for the lord’s table and managed by contractual labor. All other forms of habitation must evolve from here.

If I must think in terms of the availability of treasure, I must first answer, how much would be present in the above example?

Campaign: Thursday Morning

After a somewhat muted celebration late into the night before (the city is wrecked but we're alive), a significant portion of the city has returned to their homes to sleep. Many are boarded by friends and neighbors, for they have no homes, and many more sleep under the stars or return to their wrecked dwellings to gather what they have in carts or on pack animals. The dawn finds them started on the road to Munich, or Ingolstadt, or Augsburg, to seek out distant relatives, to begin their lives again. Throughout the night those with energy seek out the dead for removal or burial.

The sun's rising on Thursday clarifies the horror for many. As the party rises in Helmunt's establishment, the city guard, the watch and disorganized volunteers work together, picking over the rubble, unearthing bodies, fitfully falling to their knees in shock or pity, then finally lifting the stones in their hands to be loaded onto waiting conveyances. The pit in the Kirche Platz begins to be filled. The front of the church crawls with the populace clearing rubble. Stones as large as a man are fitted with straps, blocks and tackle in preparation for their removal.

It is the beginning of a sad day.

Collateral Damage

Well, the boom got dropped today.

Today is my last day at work. Officially, I've been laid off.

This isn't a big surprise, it has been coming for weeks. The only unknown was what day it would happen. The management is a week late on our cheques, has just paid me half of what they owe me and asked if I'd like to work on severely reduced hours or be laid off. I picked the latter.

One thing I have not talked long and hard on this blog has been my job. I don’t intend to go into the details here, beyond what I’ve said before. I write, I work for a magazine. They’ve been a great bunch to work for and the collapse of the publication has been largely due to the terror and fear that exists on account of the banking fiasco. Banks will not make loans, even in the case of people who have perfect credit ratings or who own assets, assets can’t be sold because there are no buyers and advertising is a complete failure as everyone but everyone is cutting their budgets. If I would blame anyone, I would have to start with corporate governance and its influence on right wing governments, and I’m not up for that rant right now.

So I will no longer have access to my office computer, and will have to make do with my computers at home. I’m not going to be much for running any adventure until next week. In the meantime I will be getting myself sorted out, getting myself on employment insurance (which should not be a problem) and looking for a management position with some disappointingly normal company doing traffic, human resources or promotions. Not looking forward to any of that.

This is my second job lost (the previous job amounting to about a third of my income) in the last three months. Do I record myself as two unemployed people with regards to statistics? Probably.

Please spare me the concerned comments or notes of sorrow. I’m sure you feel for me, I’m sure I appreciate it. Many of you have been friends and good associates and I think we can assume all of that and feel as though we have already commisserated. We have all been down this route already with coworkers and family and I’m sure we’re all tired of it. This email is just to inform as to where I am and what I’m doing. I will find more time to work on D&D and play D&D and to work out the problems in my writing. I am never NOT working. It’s only just that for a little while I won’t be paid for it.

Let's Talk

Well, I'd like to talk to Insiders and Outsiders about the campaign so far. How did that whole scene (adventure?) go? Did people feel railroaded? Did people feel completely helpless?

I've read places where the complaint is that the players are always the "centre of attention." I thought it might be interesting to have something huge and shattering, where the players were pretty much outclassed but still doing what they could. Sort of like playing the Xander role in Buffy. You know you can't kill the monster, but you're involved and helpful.

And there was some experience that came out of it.

Particularly Outsiders. Comments, please. Sometimes I wonder if anyone reads this blog except the players.

Campaign: The Gate Closes

Anshelm watches as the giant fades away, not killed but drawn ethereally out of this plane of existance. For both Tiberius and Anshelm, and for thousands inside and outside the city walls, the quiet "rises" rather than descends. Though the inky blackness of night comes, with it comes no terror, but instead the comfort of a warm blanket bestowed before bedtime by one's parent.

For the first time in many hours, all at once, there is no fear. The populace sits, rests, feels their appetites restored, their will to live regained.

Peace has come to Dachau.

Campaign: Kirche Platz

I'm glad I was able to find a decent picture for this. It's reprinted without permission, so WOTC can demand that I remove it; in the meantime, I'm going to enjoy the effect it has.

Try to imagine this creature having one more arm on her right hand side, making seven arms altogether. Now imagine that she is 12 feet tall. There. We should have a degree of terror now.

She is standing in a pit which consists of earth scooped out, about six feet deep, but with shallow enough sides that Delfig can easily see into it. To the Demon's right there are the carcasses of two horses, more or less correct in proportions to her size (25' long, 11 feet at the shoulder), now obviously dead, and the broken remains of a cart somewhat attached to them. All about her, in the pit, in piles or scattered, are bodies and body parts, perhaps a hundred humans in all.

Against this huge demon stands only one individual, quite beautiful in appearance, in stature all of five-foot-nine. He is fighting with a long sword, toe to toe. Each round the demon's blows land in a series, one after another...but it is quite clear after less than a half minute (and Delfig stands agog during that time) that she is unable to hurt her opponent. There is some sort of invisible shield, which glistens golden-yellow each time one of her blows lands. Two of the weapons she is using, a mace and a morning star, each spin off a ball of green or blue lightning each time the strike the human fighter's shield of impenetrability, these breaking into bolts which then dance over the buildings surrounding the square, causing the effects Delfig witnessed from the top of the building a distance away.

Though it is clear that the creature cannot strike the human, it is equally clear that he is keeping her from moving off; he has her trapped against the sheer edge of the mound as it appears on this side; he occasionally strikes and causes her damage, and she cannot leave as long as he lives.

It is also true that he is growing weary. Often times he must use both his arms to swing his sword; his face and his body show that he is at the edge of his reserve to go on fighting.

Campaign: Dachau Streets

Kazimir and Delfig climb down two flights of steps inside the city wall and emerge into the Foreign Quarter. This would put them somewhere in the northwest part of the city. The citadel is to their right, the North Gate to their left and the cathedral dead ahead.

It is quiet, very quiet. The streets are deserted, and except for the distant sounds of destruction and booming, there is no sound at all. As our pair make their way towards the Pig Tavern and the cathedral, they move through streets filled with the bodies of humans and slugs--there are some giant rats feeding off the former. All the buildings seem empty. The smell is overpowering at times, and at several points both characters must overcome the urge to step to the side and vomit.

As they emerge from the Foreign Quarter onto the avenue that will lead them to the cathedral, now facing the city barracks across the thoroughfare, the stillness is disturbed for the first time by a gentle breeze. At once it does not feel natural. In the first instance, it seems to be conjured from nothing, as taking a step or two back from the direction of travel causes the air to return to its stillness. In the second instance, the breeze does not so much push against the skin but pull from it. Both Delfig and Kazimir feel drawn forth along the avenue. It is not a compulsion, but a temptation.

Kazimir's hand drops to his axe, his fingers moving impatiently on the handle. At the moment the handle feels...so very nice. Delfig's sword feels lighter. Twice he catches himself half drawing the weapon for no reason at all, only to return it to its sheath, feeling vaguely disappointed...

Campaign: Anshelm's Move

Anshelm watched Tiberius and the troop move off between the houses and disappear. The cleric who healed him moves away, to tend some of the other injured or frightened people who have lately begun to take refuge in the little square. Udo slumps against the doorway of the Hostel, having been unable to get anyone to open the door for him.

Anshelm checks his weapons, finds nothing missing, and feels a little more hearty for having had some of his hit points restored. At present, the east gate is somewhere behind him and to his left. The green fire and the Kirche Platz are ahead and to the left, a quarter mile away, and ahead and to the right the giant is still tearing apart the tower.

Campaign: In The Army Now

Tiberius is organized into the troop of men, now numbering about twenty. The master-at-arms gives his name as Wilhelm Vornamen; he separates the troop into those with bows/crossbows and those without, putting Tiberius and his bow in the rear. Then as a unit all move in the direction of the giant.

Campaign: the Tower V

This was the last comment, and serves fine as a post to begin the next thread. The view out the tower arrow slit is as follows:

You can see the wall as it stretches and curves away towards the east--from where you are you can see the north gate to the left, and further along the wall, the mid-tower between the east and north gates.

You can also see the top of the wall, between the crenallations (the wall is topped by stone blocks and spaces between the blocks--standard appearance). You can count about sixteen slugs that would be on that part of the wall to the left of the door; probably more that are hidden.

The huge giant still bashing its fists against the tower has its front somewhat towards you. There is no "face"...what you can see, from a distance of perhaps 250 yards, are ten two-foot horns arranged vertically in two vertical lines, with a maw opening between them, the "lips" of which would be such that the mouth would open apart like a curtain rather than like a lid (as human mouths do). The creature has no visible eyes.

What do you do?

Hard Times

I have found since venturing online eleven months ago with this blog that there is a definite sentiment against combat in D&D. While I’m sure that most of those whose blogs I’ve read would steadfastly defend the importance of combat when it is necessary to move the plot along, this does little to balance off the subtle and not-so-subtle repeated statements that combat is boring, that hack-and-slash campaigns are boring, and that the game is markedly better when players concentrate on character and role-playing.

I agree with the last—I just don’t see why character and role-playing must be viewed as the opposite of combat.

I have been reviewing the combats in my world as of late, both online and offline, and I find that there is a distinct pattern—invariably my players get stuck into situations where the combat happens under difficult or unbalanced conditions.

I don’t know if anyone out there is familiar with the 1973 and 1974 films, the Three Musketeers and the Four Musketeers. I have always enjoyed them, and in the last year had the opportunity to possess them in my library.

What is interesting about the various combats featured in the films is the ground on which they are fought. Richard Lester does not, until the very end of both films (they are essentially one long movie in two parts), have the protagonist and antagonist duel under convenient, direct circumstances. Prior, the swordsmen must fight amid hanging sheets, in a laundry, on an ice-covered river, atop a sieged, ruined wall amid gunfire, knee-deep in water and so on. One of the more profound scenes comes at the end of the first movie, where the two swordsmen fight in the dark, each carrying their sword and a bull’s-eye lantern, forced to flip on the lantern in order to see their opponent (while simultaneously exposing themselves in the process).

While the films suffer somewhat from film stock, lighting and camera limitations in accordance with 1973 technology (Lester was more ambitious than the instrumentation would really allow), the concept is clear: never, ever let your characters fight a battle on smooth, easy ground.

Whenever possible, cramp the space they have to fight in with obstacles—such as putting a small pond in a room, or an open hole. Have something break or shatter over the floor so that characters in soft boots cannot step without taking damage. Put your foes on horseback, or atop a long arduous slope the players must rush up in order to fight face-to-face. If you can think to do it, make the obstacle animated in some fashion, so that it is changing moderately over time.

I can give you an example. Two months ago my party fought a polar worm within an ice castle. The worm was dormant, not at all present, when the party entered the castle as a means of getting over the slit pass through the mountains. Everything on the castle walls was rimed in clear, blue ice. This suggested that the ice had been melted repeatedly, then allowed to cool and freeze in perfect transparency. But no one in the party guessed immediately what that might be (to be fair, none of them supposed for a moment I would throw something as nasty as a remorhaz against them).

From the central courtyard, none of the surrounding towers had doors. Each entrance snaked away in a tubular corridor, which again did not tip off the party (there was much head-smacking afterwards). As the party explored a method to get up into the tunnel, presuming it might lead them up to where they could seek means to the castle’s far side, they noted that a thin rivulet of melted water was beginning to run down the inside of the tunnel.

What was happening, in my imagination, was that the remorhaz had awoken, and having done so moved from a dormant, cool state to a heated, active state. This I played out as the ice around the remorhaz melting and running down the tube from the top of one of the towers. The players were mystified.

As the remorhaz warmed, the ice melted at an increasing rate, so that the stream at the bottom increased in size. But since it was moving on ice, all the party could detect was that there was something big moving above them (no sound of claws or such, as the worm would “slide”). It wasn’t moving quickly I reasoned, and the water flow increased to six inches wide.

Meanwhile, a pool of icy water was forming in the middle of the courtyard, a few feet wide and inches deep to start, but growing larger. The remorhaz paused, still not where it could be seen. Water now began to rush out of the ice passage. When the remorhaz finally showed itself, there was quite a lot of it.

At the same time, the walls surrounding the courtyard all began to sweat when the remorhaz stepped into the open. This too fed the central pond. During the combat, the party had to contend with the ice surface they were walking on (much falling down), as well as the growing inconvenience of an enlarging pond that made it harder and harder to move around the periphery of the courtyard. The remorhaz, of course, had no trouble at all moving directly through the pond whenever it wished.

I didn’t plan all this. I actually had described the castle’s ice covering, pretty much on the fly, before thinking what the effects might be of the remorhaz moving about above them. That is what a DM has to do. Create an environment which suits the monster, not the players. It isn’t just a question of traps—it is a question of having the whole environment one of inconvenience, difficulty and threat. One wrong step and the player is off the edge, his foot is wedged between rocks, his magic sword is skittering across ice or lost under the snow, unreachable for several rounds, the precariously stacked barrels are about to fall if the big monster backs against them one more time, the ruined ceiling can’t support the web thoughtlessly cast, the pelting rain is turning to hail, night is coming on, the fog is thickening, there’s no way to stab the enemy on this dew-glistened moss without potentially slipping down the hill, there’s no room for a halberd, the sunlight is blinding after a week underground, we’re all sinking inch by inch into mud, this fetid pond smells so bad my eyes are watering, everyone has been made deaf by the explosion, the smoke is so thick I can’t tell friend from foe.

Watch your players role-play when they must struggle against all the elements just to reach the combat, then struggle against all the elements to retreat again. Watch as it brings out the best in people and the worst in people, as it becomes more than their ability to roll a d20 in order to hit…when they will take damage if they remain where they are from the heat, the magical gloom or DM knows what else. Expose the bravery, expose the cowardice. Expose the character.

Campaign: Tower IV

Meanwhile, back at the tower,

Delfig has successfully dropped his opponent, the lead guard present, with a crossbow bolt to the chest. Kazimir has stunned his opponent with a decisively failed assassination attempt, and the third guard in the room is still surprised. Delfig and Kazimir's move.

(OOC: It might be appropriate at these moments to designate someone else who might run your character during particularly crucial moments, even if its me. I don't know if Kazimir will see this in time, but as he has indicated that he is to post sporadically over the next few days, I'm sure Delfig would appreciate a stand-in at this time).