d&d is inspired by westerns

Monday, March 11th, 2013
This entry is part 1 of 2 in the series everybook

In Men & Magic, Gary Gygax says that D&D is “strictly fantasy. Those wargamers who lack imagination, those who don’t care for Burroughs’ Martian adventures where John Carter is groping through black pits, who feel no thrill upon reading Howard’s Conan saga, who do not enjoy the de Camp & Pratt fantasies or Fritz Leiber’s Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser pitting their swords against evil sorceries will not be likely to find DUNGEONS and DRAGONS to their taste.”

Re-reading Burroughs’ A Princess of Mars recently, I was struck with how explicitly it’s a Western. John Carter fights savages on dead sea bottoms, gropes through caverns looking for treasure, and fights weird monsters. And that’s all before he goes to Mars. The first episode of the novel is a shoot-em-up Arizona adventure which encapsulates all the rest of the book. Mars is Arizona writ large, with bigger and drier deserts, more savage natives, more accurate guns, faster horses, and more faithful dogs. In structure, the book is a lot like the Wizard of Oz movie: a reasonably plausible day, followed by a fantasy dream sequence version of the same events.

The second of Gygax’s sources, Howard’s Conan, is similar. Howard was a Texan who wrote Westerns along with his fantasy stories, cowboys-in-the-Middle East stories, and boxing stories. It’s frequently argued that Conan is a Western hero. His martial skills allow him to triumph over the lawless savages and over the decadent “civilized” folk of his wild land. That’s what cowboys do.

That’s two of Gygax’s Big Four. De Camp & Pratt and their characters are highly-educated scientists and historians, and Leiber and his heroes are urban goofballs. D&D is inspired by no one tradition. But if you scratch the surface, you’ll find that D&D is as much Boot Hill as it is Tolkein.

what level is king joffrey?

Friday, May 3rd, 2013
This entry is part 2 of 2 in the series everybook

In D&D, kings are often statted up as high-level characters. How you level them says a lot about your D&D fantasy politics.

  • If you think that cream rises to the top, you might stat King Robert (who fought his way to the throne through hand-to-hand combat) as high level, and Joffrey (who’s never had to do much of anything, and who isn’t related to King Robert) as low level.
  • If you think that cream is injected into the top, through high-level tutors and opportunities for military training, you’d say that Joffrey was at least mid-level, despite his youth and lack of any redeeming talents.
  • If you think that the rich can buy the cream, you’d stat Joffrey as high-level because, hey, 1 GP = 1 XP. (Littlefinger is, like, level 50.)
  • If you think that cream is just as common in the peasant’s cows as in the royal herd, you’d say that Joffrey is lower level than, say, Arya’s friend Hot Pie, who has at least mastered a skill and who has seen some real adventures.

    I’ve always tended towards the last approach, so there are plenty of level 1 kings running around in my game world. But this quote from Crescent Throne got me thinking:

    “But why?” Zamia asked. “Why would any man—even a cruel man—do these things? What could he possibly gain?” “Power,” the Doctor answered without hesitation. “The same thing that a man gains when he murders one of his fellow men. The same thing that a ruler gains when he sends his armies to kill and die. Power and the promise of a name that will live forever.”

    Reading it, I thought, “It would be cool if there were some game representation of this ‘Powwah!’ that evil guys are always yammering on about. Like, by performing dark rituals, or merely by exercising political clout, you got some game benefit that made you more dangerous.”

    As I thought about how to represent “power”, I discovered, as often happens when I re-examine a potential house rule, that the concept is already built into D&D. Levels.

    What if the mere act of channeling power gave you a level minimum? Whatever his personal XP total, for instance, a king always has the HP, class features, etc. of at least a level 10 character. Channeling the eldritch might of some evil dimensional vortex gives you the abilities of a level 20 character – as long as you keep the vortex open.

    Whoever holds the real power gets this benefit, of course. There are no level 10 babies. The regent is level 10 until the king is old enough to take the reins of power. This translates political struggle into D&D’s vernacular. Cersei and Joffrey are squabbling over who gets to act like they’re level 10.