Archive for the ‘4e D&D’ Category

the cave girl: turn that battlemat sideways

Friday, March 18th, 2011

The Cave Girl by Edgar Rice Burroughs

The Cave Girl by Edgar Rice Burroughs

The Cave Girl is an Edgar Rice Burroughs adventure that puts an effete New England blueblood on an island of cavemen. Hilarity ensues, as do over-the-top action set-pieces.

At one point, Waldo Emerson Smith-Jones is chased by cavemen up the side of a cliff. The way to turn this into a D&D encounter is to have your battlemat represent a vertical plane.

The battle starts with the PCs pursued by an overwhelming number of tough minions (they do 2x normal minion damage).

Everyone starts at one end of the battlemat (ground level). The PCs are trying to get to the other end of the battlemat (the top of the cliff).

Traversing most squares involves Climb checks. Drawn on the battlemat, however, are a maze of platforms connected by horizontal, diagonal, and vertical ladders. Movement along platforms and ladders follows normal walking rules.

On every platform is a stack of rocks. The rocks attack everyone in a vertical line when dropped; this is useful because the pursuing minions often line up vertically, especially when climbing ladders. PCs can also push ladders over, sending climbers to their deaths.

At the back of each ledge is a cave. The PCs don’t know whats in each cave, but the cavemen do. Some caves connect together; one has extra treasure; and one has an escape route from the encounter.

How to build a 4e Subsystem: Saving Throw with Fumble and Crit

Tuesday, March 15th, 2011

Subsystems – self-contained rulesets that didn’t interact with the rest of the rules – ran amok in 1st Edition and, by 4th edition, have mostly been removed. There is still a place for the subsystem in D&D. I like introducing one-shot mechanics to spice up a single encounter. Oxymoronically, I like to use a consistent structure for all my subsystems.

I use a mechanic I call “Saving Throw with Fumble and Crit”. I’ve tried to invent a cool acronym for it, but all I’ve come up with is either “F On Toast” (“Fumble Or Natural Twenty On A Saving Throw”) or “Stoat Ass” (“Saving Throw, One and Twenty are Super Special”). Let me know if you can think of an even more unacceptable acronym.

The basis of every “F On Toast/Stoat Ass” subsystem is a chart like this:

Make a d20 roll, plus any situational modifiers.
1 or less (or natural 1): Critical failure
2-9: Failure
10-19: Success
20+ (or natural 20): Critical success

The principles behind this chart are
a) that the 4e saving throw (essentially a coin flip that slightly favors the player) is a good generic mechanic, and
b) that “20 and 1 are Magic”.

I’ve used this subsystem template for my wilderness survival rules, mass combat rules, wandering monster rules, random treasure rules, and several other homegrown subsystems. It’s easy to explain to players, especially the second or third time the same structure is used. All you have to say is “Make a saving throw. Let me know if you crit or fumble.”

the Babysitter’s Club D&D pantheon

Friday, March 11th, 2011

Stacey and the CheerleadersLast week, I met a challenge to my Every Book’s a Sourcebook project: find D&D inspiration from the text of a Babysitters Club book. I read BSC #70, Stacey and the Cheerleaders, and used it to generate a great idea for a village heist adventure.

To prove how easy it is, here is a BONUS idea from Stacey and the Cheerleaders:

They stood there like statues, the goddesses of Gloom and Doom.

I think this quote describes some kids Stacey is babysitting; but what awesome statues it describes! Truly Anne M. Martin is a master fantasy world-builder.

The goddesses Gloom and Doom are the twin daughters of Lord Poison, the Dark Hand of Death. Their monumental white statues, mottled with red moss, stand at the entrance of Blood Pass. Travellers who enter Blood Pass offer fearful prayers to the goddesses. Nevertheless, sometimes a statue’s eyes flash, and a curse falls upon a traveller.

Whenever anyone enters Blood Pass, roll 2d20, one for each sister.

On a 1 on the first die, the traveller falls under the Curse of Gloom. From now on, every hour, the traveller must make a saving throw. If the traveller fails, he or she sinks into an hour-long Gloom, during which he or she will make no unassisted actions except to sit or lie down. If forced to walk, the Gloomy traveller is Slowed. A Gloomy traveller will resist being put on horseback, and will dismount at the earliest oppportunity. If attacked, a Gloomy traveller will do nothing but take the total defense action. The curse lifts after 24 hours have passed.

On a 1 on the second die, the traveller falls under the Curse of Doom. From now on, the traveller will lose one healing surge (or 1/4 of total HP) an hour. The only way to lift the curse is to arrive at the other end of Blood Pass, which takes ten hours of hard travel.

Worst-case scenario is that someone in the party receives a Gloom, slowing travel, and someone receives a Doom, providing serious consequences for delay. But, hey, that’s what you get for taking a cursed shortcut through the mountains.

20 and 1 are Magic

Tuesday, March 8th, 2011

Rolling a 20

We’ve been conditioned to salivate when we roll a natural 20. It’s very satisfying to crit on an attack roll, but on many other rolls, all we end up with is a regular success and a mouth full of saliva.

Whenever a natural 20 is just another success, I feel like it’s a failure of the game system. Example: initiative rolls. I’ve frequently heard PCs complain when they crit on an initiative roll: “Why couldn’t I save that 20 for when it mattered?”

I was once DMing for three players who each rolled a natural 20 on the same initiative roll. It was an astonishing one-in-8000 occurrence that, sadly, has no by-the-book game effects at all. I ruled that the players were so well-prepared for the combat that their opponents immediately surrendered. The PCs got full XP for the win. We still reminisce about that encounter.

D&D design principle: Natural 20 is magic. Every d20 roll – skills and initiative rolls as well as attack rolls – should have a benefit for rolling a natural 20: something more than just a success.

Rolling a 1

Rolling a 1 is the second most exciting roll in D&D. I don’t know why it is, but it always gets groans and laughs. In every group I’ve ever played with, players narrate how badly they failed. “My axe gets caught in the floor!” “My Dungeoneering check was so bad, I don’t even know I’m in a dungeon!”

Players are hungry for fumble mechanics!

Fumble rules are hard to write, though: there are a lot of pitfalls.

  • Fumbles should introduce complications, not punishments: no permanently-broken weapons or missing the next turn. Fumbles should add player energy, not suck it out.
  • Fumbles should not render all characters incompetent boobs. One of Rory’s 3e DMs ruled that on every natural 1 on an attack roll, the character made an attack on an ally. Rory was playing a high-level ranger with many attacks per round. That meant that once every few rounds – several times a minute – Rory accidentally shot an ally. Not very Aragorn.
  • Fumbles should be player-directed. Right now, players tend to exercise a little narrative creativity when they roll a 1. This is nice.

The natural-1 rules from the 4e Darksun books are pretty good fumble rules. They actually give characters a mechanical benefit – rerolling an attack – in exchange for a cinematic failure – breaking a weapon.

D&D design principle: Natural 1 is magic. Every d20 roll should have consequences for rolling a natural 1: consequences in addition to normal failure.

Do you guys use any cool fumble or crit effects for initiative rolls and skill checks? (Attack rolls and death saves already have special effects on a natural 20.)

Mazes and Monsters Manual chapters 1-5

Monday, March 7th, 2011
This entry is part 27 of 34 in the series Mazes and Monsters

Rules for helping Tom Hanks escaping the Mazed condition in chapter 5.

I’ve added chapters 4, “Quests,” and chapter 5, “Combat”, to the PDF of the Mazes and Monsters Manual.

Look for 13 more pages of rules, 19 illustrations from the movie, and 1 screencap from Burton’s Hamlet.

Quests

The Quests chapter includes helpful rules like:

When you start a new hero, you will be much less powerful than your friends. Remind your comrades that it is their duty to babysit you for a few levels, until you are slightly less useless than you were. On the plus side, your uselessness may result in all the heroes being killed in the maze, in which case everyone will get to start over at level 1!

Combat

Sample from the Combat chapter:

Candles should be set up on and around the Game Board: their hypnotic flickering will help the players reach the psychologically vulnerable state in which Mazes and Monsters is the most fun!

Changes to chapters 1-3

After playtesting, I also made some rules changes to chapter 1-3: the surprisingly common situations where you roll a 11 (fumble) followed by a 12 (crit), or vice versa, is now called a “save,” and allows you to take a free turn if you do something other than what you were planning.

I also made fumbles less common, since they are sort of a drag, and ended up using something very like the D&D 3.5 rules for confirming critical hits. I didn’t plan it; it just sort of happened that way.

Download Mazes and Monsters chapters 1-5

Leave it to Psmith: the D&D module

Friday, February 25th, 2011

Leave it to PsmithThe mannered country-house farces of PG Wodehouse don’t lend themselves very well to adaptation as D&D adventures because they rely on intricate, delicate plot, which is hard for a DM to sustain, and a very specific dialogue style, which is hard to pull off on the fly (and if you think you’re managing it, you just might be making yourself annoying).

The beautiful spun-sugar plot constructions might not be usable, but the general premise of a Wodehouse novel is very thematic to D&D: “Idiot or idiots get into hilarious mishaps through a series of misunderstandings, overcomplicated plans, and bad judgement calls.” This is a perfect description of PC activity whenever combat is not involved.

Leave it to Psmith relies on one plot device that is usable in a D&D game: mistaken identity. Psmith and two other characters all claim to be a poet named McTodd; one of the other two claimants is actually McTodd, and one is an American gangster.

Try offering this as a puzzle for the PCs. They’re instructed to, say, give a powerful item to a certain NPC named McTodd. They find two McTodds, each claiming that the other is the imposter.

The two NPCs both have fairly good knowledge of their role, and differentiate themselves mainly by their attitudes. McTodd 1 is sputtering and angry: “How dare this imposter speak to me in my own house!” McTodd 2 seems amused by the situation and speaks flippantly: “You say I am not McTodd? Well, perhaps I am not. I’ve been wrong before.”

Various knowledge checks provide conflicting results: McTodd 1 explains a sudden disinclination for cake as the effects of a recent illness; McTodd 2 seems to have forgotten some obscure detail of his own history.

The gimmick here is that the DM does not know which McTodd is the real one either. The DM is keeping track of two separate possibilities, but until the PCs concoct a plan that will absolutely solve the mystery, it is a case of Schrodinger’s McTodd. If another NPC corroborates one McTodd’s identity, that NPC exists in an indeterminate state as a honest man/villanous accomplice.

When the DM must finally pick a real McTodd, the choice is made by a die roll or coin flip.

Many players are very good at picking up on unconscious hints from the DM. Mysteries can be solved, not by the clues, but by the DM’s tone. If the DM doesn’t know the solution to the mystery, though, any such clues will be misleading.

cheating yourself is fun

Tuesday, February 8th, 2011

Some friends and I were playing a game that uses mana counters. We didn’t have any with us, so we each used a d20 as a counter.

When my friend Larry got his first point of damage, he started tumbling his d20 through his fingers. “I can’t find the 1. My d20 has no 1!”

As everyone knows, you can’t prove a negative,, so maybe that die had a 1 tucked away on some obscure corner somewhere, but when I looked at the die, what I did discover was that it had two 20s.

Larry’s girlfriend said that she had bought the die because she liked the color: neither of them had ever noticed that it was a trick die. Larry has probably played some D&D sessions with this cheater’s die, and – in all likelihood – he probably rolled some crits where he should have rolled fumbles. It probably added a little – say 5% – to the fun of the session.

It’s kind of sad that we discovered the trick die. Larry is an honest person, so he’ll never use that die again. That means that, from now on, his average d20 roll will be a tiny bit worse. He’s lost his edge.

Cheating can be fun – as long as you don’t know you’re cheating. And that’s really what D&D is based on. Especially in 4e, encounters are designed to seem like you’re on a thin knife edge of doom, a single roll away from death, when in fact you have a 95% chance of winning the encounter. 4e is great at making every session feel like another against-the-odds success, so you don’t need a trick die to cheat death.

I still wish we hadn’t outed that d20 though.

In Search of the Purrfect Villain

Wednesday, January 26th, 2011

Making a good villain is tough! If you aren’t careful, they can pretty easily die in the first session you introduce them! Sure, you can avoid getting them killed if they only show their face for a few moments before skulking back into the shadows, but if you want your villain to be able to get in the thick of things and properly taunt the PCs there are a few good things to keep in mind:

1. Make Your Villain a Lich: Liches are great! They can relentlessly fight the party over and over again and live to fight another day, even when defeated. Tracking down their phylactery is an exciting adventure unto itself and a delightful prelude to a final encounter.

2. Use a Flying Villain: Dragons, Onis, and humanoids with flying mounts are great. They can stick around in a fight until things start to get rough and then safely escape into the skies! A burrowing villain could do the same thing, but unless your villain is an umber hulk (which would be awesome!) that’s going to be a bit less common.

3. Use a Controller or Artillery: Most controllers and artillery can keep their distance from the fight, which makes it much easier to set up easy escape plans for them. If a Mind Flayer can stay effective while attacking from a balcony that is hard to get to, then it can simply walk away when it tires of the fighting. (more…)

character creation: dark elf vs dark knight

Tuesday, January 25th, 2011

D&D characters gain abilities in two ways: by choice and by chance.

In modern D&D, powers and abilities (feats, spells, etc) are generally chosen by the player, out of an ever-increasing set of sourcebooks.

In older D&D, the main special powers were spells, and they tended to be given out randomly or at the DM’s discretion.

Is one approach better than the other? Well, it seems to me that they reward different types of players. I’m tempted to raise the false dichotomy of “Roleplay vs Roll-play”, but I’ll avoid needless use of loaded terms and — nah, skip it! I WILL talk about roleplayers vs. roll-players. I think I may be trolling, guys! Am I doing it right?

In this context, I’ll define role-players as people who primarily choose their powers to support a specific character concept: a dual-wielding dark elf, for instance.

Roll-players are people who primarily choose their powers to make themselves effective in battle: a 3e Batman wizard, for instance.

Let’s see what Batman and Drizzt players do in modern D&D, where players can choose any ability they want out of the infinite universe of character options. The role-players are able to build their concept perfectly. Roll-players, though, quickly learn the “best” combinations and never choose anything else. They actually cheat themselves out of a wide range of character experiences this way.

On the other hand, what if we used a system where powers were assigned randomly, or discovered like treasure? Role-players would be frustrated when their dark elf ranger started accumulating longbow feats, so they couldn’t play the character they wanted to play. Roll-players, though, would be forced to optimize their character within arbitrary constraints, and would get the fun of facing different sets of tactical decisions with every character.

Modern D&D is a pretty crunchy, tactical RPG. Its totally non-random character creation, though, is better for actor-type players than tactical-type players.

In my Mazes and Monsters rules, by the way, I use a hybrid system. Characters choose special abilities from randomly-selected subsets of the available powers. 5e suggestion, guys! Might be a good way to go.

Warlord of Ghandor

Friday, January 21st, 2011


Looking upward I caught sight of one of the warriors being hauled upward into the trees above. A strange-appearing sinewy limb encircled him by the waist and was quickly pulling him upward. Before I could reach him, he was gone from sight, the foliage converging back into place covering the hole his body had made as it was dragged, struggling through it.

“Moga, what was it?” I yelled. “The feared Qouri,” he replied in hushed tones.

Warlord of Ghandor is a fairly awful Burroughs Princess of Mars pastiche, complete with the mystical planetary travel, low-gravity superhuman strength, and incomparable princess in distress.

Even the worst Burroughs book, however, usually features some unique monsters.

QOURI
level 7 lurker

The qouri lives in a tree nest 40 feet from the forest floor. Its tail drops down to seize passers by.

Move action: move tail tip up to 8 sq away. If an opponent is grabbed, it moves with the tail tip.
Attack action: grab opponent adjacent to tail tip. The grab is released if the tail takes 15 damage in one attack.
Free action: release grabbed opponent: usually in 3×3 nest. The quori is fixed in one corner of the nest. Anyone in the nest has superior cover from the forest floor.
Attack action: Lunge and bite one opponent in close burst 2.

Surprise: Any PC with less than 15 passive Perception or Nature will be surprised.

The quori likes to grab a single creature and pull him into his nest. Since the nest is 8 squares up, it will take most allies 3 move actions to climb up there. Meanwhile, the captured PC will have to fight alone. This will provide a different fight environment from normal.

Notice that moving the tail is a move action. Therefore, the only way that a PC can be whisked away without the tentacle being attacked is if the tail moves adjacent in the surprise round; wins initiative; successfully Grabs and moves to the nest on its turn.

Qouri can be encountered alone, but can also be encountered in a hive of up to 5 qouri who can all reach roughly the same area.