Archive for the ‘fluff/inspiration’ Category

dark shadows

Thursday, August 30th, 2012

Netflix On Demand is carrying the 60’s horror show Dark Shadows. I’ve never seen it, but I have a vague memory of hearing that it was an influence on Gygax and Arnesen, so I decided to watch a little bit and see if I could detect any D&D flavor.

I watched one episode, and already the D&D influence is clear. It’s about a shady guy whose research leads him to believe there’s valuable jewelry buried in a tomb in a crypt. He gathers together some tools and enters the dungeon setting.

(spoilers ahead)

He finds himself in a room with some sealed stone coffins. He can’t open them with his crowbar, so he rigs up a rope and pulley, running the rope through a ring on a coffin lid and a ring set in the wall. When he pulls the rope, the coffin lid still doesn’t budge — but the tug on the ring on the wall opens up — wouldn’t you know it — a secret door to a hidden chamber.

Inside the chamber is another coffin. This one is wrapped with chains. The graverobber, who is suffering from a dangerous case of genre blindness, decides that the chains on the coffin somehow indicate that this coffin contains treasure. He pulls off the chains and opens the coffin. What’s in the coffin isn’t clear, but whatever it is, it strangles him.

This episode provides a perfectly usable D&D encounter. If the rings in the room are described, the PCs will probably pull the wall ring — either as part of a pulley system, as in the episode, or just under the general principle that anything described by the DM should be pushed, pulled, or hit.

The chains around the outside of the coffin add a spooky touch, and provide a hint that whatever’s in the coffin may be a tough encounter.

Rather than populating the coffin with a regular old strangling monster, as in the episode, I think I’d fill it with a puzzle/environment monster in the tradition of D&D puddings or yellow molds. I’d have a cloud of fog billow out, flowing across the floor and expanding in every direction 10 or 20 feet per turn. All the crypt’s dead would rise as skeletons as soon as they were touched by the fog. The PCs would either have to fight an ever-increasing army of skeletons or flee in front of the fog. Perhaps the original occupant of the coffin would be a ghost who had concealment while in the fog and could, as its move, teleport into any fog-covered area.

ecology of the kobold

Tuesday, August 28th, 2012

I mentioned that I have trouble playing kobolds and goblins differently. Two undifferentiated weak, trap-setting, underground cannon-fodder races is too many, so a while ago, I came up with some new quirks for goblins.

Here’s my take on kobolds.

Kobolds are scavengers

I decided that goblins were producers – they don’t need other races to survive.

Kobolds, on the other hand, don’t produce anything. They live on the edges of settlements and steal garbage, set up traps for travelers, and raid farms. Kobolds are the first thing you fight at level 1 because they’re right on the edge of town.

Therefore, kobold weapons are likely to be daggers, scythes, and shortbows created by other races. Their industry goes as far as weaving ropes into nets and turning leather into slings (but not making the rope or the leather).

When they’re unable to steal food, kobolds eat bugs and small animals, and set traps to catch large animals and humans.

Kobolds worship fear

I had a bit of a problem coming up with a kobold gimmick. Recent editions have them as dragon-worshippers, which is fine, I guess, but it’s limiting. For instance, you don’t want to design a system that has kobolds and dragons (a high and low level encounter) always sitting on top of each other. What level party will face them?

In the past, I’ve also experimented with kobolds as demonic minions suitable for level-1 parties to face. They’re scaly and have horns – all they need and pitchforks and the smell of brimstone to fill that role.

Kobolds’ defining characteristic is that they’re the weakest monster in the monster manual. Individually, they’re afraid of everything. I decided that was the key to their psychology. They worship fear. If a creature is strong enough to kill a lot of them, they will serve that creature. The more frightened they are of the creature, the more fanatically loyal they become.

Kobolds will fear any creature that kills a lot of them, but the creatures they worship most slavishly are those with cause fear effects: typically dragons and demons have such powers. Conveniently, that preserves the lore of the dragon-worshipping kobold.

Kobolds like to cause fear

Kobolds try to inspire fear in others. They’re too weak to do so with force of arms, so they do so by exploiting traps, darkness, and trickery. They prefer traps that don’t kill instantly. Fiery logs rolling towards their target; poison that weakens over time; pit traps that hurt but don’t kill; those are their favorite. They also have a weakness for Scooby Doo style trickery, terrifying villagers with phosphorescent scarecrows and devil masks.

When Mike Mornard ran us through a kobold maze, he had a handful of kobolds, striking from the darkness, terrifying a well-armed band of stronger first-level characters. That’s part of a tradition going back to Gary Gygax’s brutal level 1 kobolds. Kobolds are most effective when they’re scary.

Kobolds mutate

Like goblins, kobolds have their own brand of magic. Kobold magic lets them take on the characteristics of the thing they fear most. Thus, kobolds enslaved by a white dragon might gain icy dragon breath (for 1d4 damage). Kobolds enslaved by an evil necromancer might gain wimpy little Emperor Palpatine lightning. Kobolds used by drow might gain the ability to create shadows.

Kobolds will also gain obsessions related to those of their masters. A dragon’s kobolds will hoard treasure. A vampire’s kobolds will drink blood. An evil knight’s kobolds might actually learn to march in step.

Independent kobolds

Some kobolds can’t find any evil creature to act as their master/protector. These tribes tend to gravitate to the edge of human settlements, where they steal from, and to some degree imitate, adventurers and city guards.

downton and dragons: backgrounds

Thursday, August 16th, 2012

Last weekend, I ran a D&D game for a big group: nine players plus myself. As it happened, an oddly large percentage of the players were in graduate school, so I took the only course open to me: I classed it up.

I haven’t seen a lot of Downton Abbey, but I’ve seen enough to know the basic premise. There’s an Earl. His closest heirs are drowned on the Titanic. Now they’re stuck with some distant, middle-class relative as the next in line to the estate! Hijinx ensue.

It seems like a pretty good setup for a D&D adventure. Except that D&D characters have some options not open to the characters in the show: they can GO DOWN TO THE TITANIC, fight the zombified remains of John Astor and the other upper-crust disaster victims, and, in one way or another, set things right.

Not only was this adventure a TV show homage, it was a Fifth Edition playtest. I made a few tweaks to match the 1912-England-plus-elves-and-magic setting. Maybe next week I’ll publish the adventure: today, here are the custom backgrounds I made available to the player characters. Note that they’re generally more powerful than the 5e playtest backgrounds: I like to go gonzo for one-shots.

Dependent Noble

You’re of good birth, but you’re not in line for a fortune. You might be dependent on relatives, or the possibility of a good marriage. Your charms are your greatest asset.

You start the game with the following equipment:
1 set of noble clothing
10 GP
popular novel

You start the game with your choice of one of the following irons in the fire:
1) A rich suitor or admirer
2) a secret career as an artist, nurse, revolutionary, or other low trade
3) a disgraceful engagement with someone entirely unsuitable
4) knowledge of a secret which you could use for blackmail

You also start the game with 1 family heirloom. Roll on the following chart:
1-2: +1 weapon or magic staff of your choice.
3-4: +1 armor, shield, or ceremonial robes of your choice.
5: Your heirloom necklace is decorated with 1d4 resurrection stones.
6: Devoted valet or lady’s maid (AC 15, attack +5, damage 1d6+3, 20 HP) whose expertise gives you +1 on all charisma checks.
7: Roll again on this chart using a d6. The item you roll up comes with a curse.
8: Your choice of item.

You have the following skills:
Diplomacy
Bluff
Society Lore

Finally, come up with one friend, enemy, or other associate with whom you have an important relationship (it may or may not be another player):

Click here to read the rest of the backgrounds!

You can cut each page into strips and let people grab whichever background suits them. Note: There are some duplicates here. For instance, there are several copies of “loyal servant” background, but only one “tycoon.” First come, first served.

Next: The adventure!

the ecology of the goblin

Tuesday, August 14th, 2012

Wizards has an article where they talk about how they differentiate the goblinoid races – the goblin, hobgoblin, and bugbear. I think those creatures are actually reasonably well differentiated, compared to some humanoid races. You know what races really need differentiation? Goblins and kobolds. They both fill the same role:

  • They’re weak, and go down in one hit.
  • They prefer ranged combat to front-line combat.
  • If you catch one, it will probably snivel and beg.
  • They like traps. If the monsters are deadly, it’s because they have death traps in their lair.
  • They hate light and like sneaking around in the darkness.
  • They are sometimes used as cannon fodder by powerful creatures.
  • First level characters kill them by the dozen.

    Now, how are goblins and kobolds different?

  • They have slightly different appearances.
  • I guess kobolds like dragons?

    I decided that, in my game, I needed to add some flavor to make goblins and kobolds distinct from each other. I started with the goblin. Here’s what I decided to add:

    Goblins are producers.

    Goblins aren’t scavengers. If all the other intelligent races disappeared, goblins would like that just fine. In fact, they may be trying to hasten that end. Goblins are sort of like dwarves: left to their own devices, they mine and hoard money. Like dwarves, they make food by some obscure process that may involve rats or mushroom farms.

    Goblins have twisted treasure.

    I like the idea that goblins are just as avid miners and crafters as dwarves. There’s fantasy traction for that idea, from Warcraft to Harry Potter. However, it’s weird if a level-1 monster has oodles of treasure. So I thought that, maybe, goblin treasure comes with a price.

    More so than the other humanoid races, I decided, goblins are fairy creatures. They are masters of trickery and illusion. 2/3 of the coins and gems in a goblin horde are worthless or dangerous: not actually treasure but poison beetles, shards of glass, rat skulls. The treasure changes when exposed to sunlight. (You can cheat people in midnight transactions with stolen goblin gold.)

    Furthermore, goblins make artistic, but hideous, magic items, mostly weapons. Goblin magic weapons and armor are covered with horrifying but well-rendered details. Every goblin tribe has a handful of warriors armed with +1 magic items. In fact, goblin weapons might be the most common type of magic item in the world.

    Goblin magic weapons are worth far less than other types, though, because goblin magic is powered by pain, sacrifice, and hate. Every +1 item confers on its owner a minor curse. Here are some typical goblin magic items:

    Roll 1d4:

    1) Biting Mace: The goblin champion who fights with this weapon never retreats and never takes prisoners. There’s a toothy mouth on the side of this +1 mace, and another one on the handle. If you roll a natural 20 with an attack, it bites your enemy, doing 1d6 automatic damage per round until the enemy escapes. However, if you stop fighting or drop the mace while any foes live (including prisoners), it bites your hand for 1d6 per round until you escape.

    2) Club Foot Truncheon: Goblins are the only creatures who make magic clubs. This one, like most goblin weapons, was made as a cruel joke. Anyone who carries this +1 club walks with a distinctive limp, taking a penalty to speed of 10 feet per turn. The limp is also painful, although this has no game effect.

    3) Corruption Sword: These weapons are often wielded by misshapen, giant goblins with inflated Strength scores. A corruption sword is a short sword +1 with jagged, acid-chewed edges. Every time you score a critical hit, you do 2d12 extra acid damage. However, at the same time, one of your arms or legs becomes grossly oversized and muscular. For each oversized limb, you gain a +1 bonus to Strength and a -1 to Dexterity and Intelligence. If all four of your limbs are affected, you gain one of the forms of insanity from the 1e Dungeon Masters Guide. All symptoms are cured after a Remove Curse or six months without scoring a critical hit with this weapon.

    4) Mocker Shield: The champion who wears this shield can always be located by following the sounds of hideous, hysterical laughter. Whenever this +1 shield’s wearer doesn’t make an attack during a combat round, a jeering, laughing caricature of the wearer’s face appears on the shield on the next round. Instead of attacking the wearer, enemies can attack the caricature. To hit it, they must roll 6 on 1d6. On a hit, the wearer takes double damage from the attack – and the caricature laughs and laughs.

    Goblins have their own leaders.

    Although goblins are occasionally enslaved and made to serve as foot soldiers, that’s a role more often taken by kobolds or orcs. Goblin tribes are usually self-governing and have the following leaders:

    Goblin King: The biggest and toughest goblin, the goblin king, is nearly always armed with a magical goblin weapon. He’s usually about as tough as a third level fighter.

    Goblin Nobles: The goblin king is usually surrounded by big goblin champions, who are as tough as second level fighters, and often magically armed as well. Alternately, you can use hobgoblins for goblin champions, if your campaign world doesn’t have place for a separate goblinoid Roman Empire race.

    The hobgoblins-as-nobles scenario makes goblins into a feudal race, parallel to medieval human civilizations, with a pretty good spread of combat ability to provide increasingly difficult fights as the PCs venture deeper into the goblin lair.

    Goblin Smith: The goblin smith’s works in gold, silver, and iron are as detailed and skillful as those of any dwarf, but are horrifyingly ugly. Goblins value the work of their smith. They usually cripple him so he can’t leave the tribe.

    Goblin Shaman: As wizard magic requires study and discipline, the magic of the goblin shaman is powered by pain and death. The health and lives of captives and weak goblins are spent to fuel goblin spells. The goblin shaman has illusion spells to disguise traps and to create goblin gold, and enchantment spells that endow a goblin smith’s weapons with their cursed magic.

    Goblin Rabble: The rest of the goblin tribe are considered expendable by the goblin nobles – especially those who have been crippled by goblin shaman magic.

    Soon I’ll write up the changes I made to kobolds.

  • war is the only word i know

    Friday, August 10th, 2012

    The creature opened eyes like two red stars and looked at Ekmal. It opened its beak and cried out stridently the only word it knew: “War!” “Of course, war,” said Ekmal, holding out his arm.
    -Leigh Brackett, The Hounds of Skaith

    I used this detail in a game I ran recently. The players were sent to open diplomatic negotiations with the giants to the south. The giants – courtly, bejeweled – rode on fine, massive horses and carried man-sized hawks on their arms.

    The PCs’ mission was to prevent war with the giants. The birds’ constant cries of “WAR!” didn’t help matters.

    No visit to a foreign court is complete without a hunt. For quarry, I had the giants hawking dire al-miraj, horned rabbits so big that the players could joust with them.

    Naturally, diplomatic negotiations broke down (as they always do in D&D) and the PCs ended up fighting the giant king (as PCs always do).

    This last fight was notable because I’d given the PCs a one-shot item, a magic gem that let its owner roll 1d100 for damage instead of the normal damage die. This is kind of a silly item, but we were running a gonzo game. And it paid off in drama: everyone was excited when the fighter snapped the gem to his sword and challenged the giant king to single combat.

    The fighter rolled his attack. Hit. Rolled 1d100 for damage. And got a 3.

    But wait! Looking over his character sheet, he remembered that he had a power that let him reroll damage for one attack.

    He rerolled the d100.

    And got a 1.

    Such are the fortunes of war.

    who are the best of the best?

    Friday, August 3rd, 2012

    The most powerful known wizards in Wyre and its dependencies at the end of the Seventh Century were, in no particular order of precedence, Jovol the Grey, Hlioth the Green Witch, Waide of Hethio, Mostin the Metagnostic, Shomei the Infernal and Tozinak. They were, compared to those great names of history such as Tersimion and Fillein, a group of only moderate power. Nonetheless, they commanded considerable resources and, had they so chosen, could have exercised great influence in the temporal affairs of Wyre.

    Sepulchrave’s Wyre stories have a lot to tell us about D&D worldbuilding. One nice thing about reaching high level in his campaign is that you are officially one of the foremost adventurers in the world.

    I like the idea that, by around level 17 or so, a character might be familiar with the handful of people more skilled at his or her class. (In 1st edition, this was codified into some classes already, like the monk and druid: there was only one level 17 monk, the Grand Master of Flowers.)

    Even in 4e, where character level goes up to 30, I’ve assumed that the world’s top practitioners of each class might be around level 19. The epic tier is saved for legendary historical figures and for PCs carving out their own legendary history. There’s currently no living, epic NPC in my campaign world. Really, level 20 is plenty powerful enough.

    When the PCs’ levels start getting into the mid-teens, you might want to think about the world’s level 18+ NPCs. (In Sepulchrave’s example, there are only 6 wizards of the highest level. That seems like a good number to me.) As the PCs become powerful, the NPCs will become aware of them, as possible allies or rivals, and possibly make discreet (or violent) visits.

    As you construct your adventures, don’t feel constrained by your list of top-level NPCs. I bet that besides the six “most powerful known wizards in Wyre”, there are as many unknown masters. This might be even more true in secretive classes like assassins and thieves.

    I also like the fact that Sepuchrave’s world contains more-powerful (presumably epic) wizards from the past. Coming up with some of these might color your campaign world as well.

    paladins with expense accounts

    Friday, July 13th, 2012

    “So should we go to Morne, to arrange for approval?” Mostin asked brightly. “Oh, no need for that, Mostin,” Eadric replied. “As an inquisitor, I am more than qualified to release the money to you. I’ll just write you a check to draw against the temple funds.” The Alienist’s mouth dropped open in an expression of disbelief. Here was such an enormous potential for financial abuse that his mind boggled. Then again, thought Mostin, that’s probably why he’s the paladin and I’m not.

    Sepulchrave’s Lady Despina’s Virtue is the story of a real D&D campaign, but it’s also one of the most enjoyable fantasy stories I’ve read. It’s got a lot of stuff you can pull out and use in your own campaign. Here’s one thing you can use:

    If you want to give a real moral temptation to a paladin, don’t have leering demons offer hellish pacts. Just have the paladin’s superiors give him an expense account.

    PCs usually have stuff they want to buy. A lot of it can be used to fight evil, so there will be some legitimate expenses. There will also be a temptation to borrow against the expense account for less-clear-cut expenses, and pay it back out of future loot. See if you can get your paladin to start embezzling.

    That’s when you bring in the inquisitors. Revel as the paladin is forced to compromise his ideals to avoid discovery. Laugh as he loses his paladinhood. Celebrate your dark victory as he returns as an anti-paladin!

    Or not. But a paladin needs to face some real temptations, or he’s just a fighter with good PR.

    drow are from the 18th century

    Wednesday, July 4th, 2012

    July 4th is a time for Americans to celebrate the Founding Fathers, and what better way than with a discussion of the DROW?

    Visually, what’s the most interesting thing about drow? Is it the ebony skin, which lures cosplayers into racially complicated situations? No! It is the WHITE HAIR.

    Costume-wise, perfectly white hair usually implies powdered wigs, which imply, in turn, the 18th century: the founding fathers, Mozart, Marie Antoinette. What if we used the 18th century aesthetic to inform our concept of the drow?

    While the United States’ national story has the Founding Fathers as unequivocal heroes, most everyone else in a powdered wig is creepy in some way: bad old King George! Debauched Mozart! Sinister Salieri! that creepy guy from Dangerous Liaisons!

    Drow actually make a fine addition to this creepy collection. Therefore, drow should probably wear silk jackets and high heeled boots. They should carry sword sticks (that crumble if exposed to sunlight). Their beauties – men and women both – have white beauty marks. The drow attend masques and balls in which they exchange innuendo and assassinate their rivals. (Drow dances, like those of Melnibone, are to the well-tempered screams of tortured slaves.) Drow attitude to non-drow is a heightened parody of the pitiless indifference of French nobility for the lower orders.

    Furthermore, drow worship Lolth, the Queen of the Demonweb Pits. Here’s a statue of her from Pax East 2012.

    Throw a dress on her, and her silhouette reminds me of another queen, also famous for her indifference to the lower orders:

    How to use drow in your campaign:

    Make them charming. Witty, even. Have them take snuff. Play harpsichord music as background music when they’re around. They can be just as diabolical, unfeeling, and sinister as ever – more so, even.

    peasants with magic weapons

    Friday, June 22nd, 2012

    A spritely little old fellow sat comfortably on a tree root not fifteen paces off. He was clad in a single garment made from the hide of some unidentifiable and long-dead animal. It covered him from neck to knees and was cinched around the middle with a wide belt with a brass buckle. From it hung several pouches, a double-edged knife, an old silver horn, and a crude but serviceable battle-axe, well-rusted and probably taken from a barrow.
    Elizabeth Boyer – The Sword And The Satchel

    The obscure corners of the D&D world are brimming with dungeons, barrows, and other ancient treasure caches. Occasionally, a peasant or woodsman will stumble upon a cave and emerge with an ancient, runed +1 sword or axe.

    What will a peasant do with such a find? Some will sell it at the next county fair. Others live too far from commerce to find a willing buyer. And, jewels and runes or no, an axe +1 is better at chopping down trees than a regular axe.

    This means that occasionally, PCs should find remote peasant families using ancient treasures in their labor. This might be an opportunity for the PCs to buy an item for less than market value, and it may tip the PCs off that there’s a source of ancient treasure nearby.

    Here are some other possibilities (roll d20):
    1- One of the ancient items is haunted! The peasant will give the PCs the treasure if they will take care of the evil, horse-sized cat in the barn.
    2- The peasant is not what he seems! He is a barrow ghost in disguise, and only his magic weapon is undisguised.
    3- The peasant is a mighty fighter who wrested the item from ferocious monsters. There are more treasures in the barrow, and more ferocious monsters. The PCs might be outclassed unless they bring the peasant along.
    4- The peasant family acquires their treasures by murdering passing adventurers. They suggest that the PCs stay the night, and explore the barrow tomorrow. There is no barrow: the peasants will try to slit the PCs’ throats as they sleep. In the basement are graves.
    5- The peasant asks for an exorbitant sum for either the treasure or the location of the ancient barrow.
    6- The peasant is willing to sell and will adjust the price according to how big a deal the PCs make about the item.
    7- The items are “cursed”: they love their peasant owners. While a PC has one of the items, all paths will bend so as to lead back to the peasants’ farm. Strange coincidences will occur so that the PCs keep meeting the peasants.
    8- The item allows you to Turn werewolves using Turn Undead mechanics, and the peasant is afraid to sell it unless the local werewolves are destroyed.
    9- The peasant is holding the weapon because it’s one of those ones that will not leave your hand until you kill a foe. The peasant can’t sell it until someone helps him kill a foe: apparently farm animals don’t count.
    10- The peasant is waiting to hand off the item to a Chosen One, in accordance to an ancient prophecy about a Red Woman who will arrive from the east. The PCs are not the Chosen Ones, but the peasant is sick of his custodial duties. He keeps hinting to a female PC that she should go have a picnic in the East Pasture, and here, wear this red hat.
    11-15: Just an ancient treasure the peasant found in a barrow. There is no more treasure to be found there.
    16-20: Just an ancient treasure the peasant found in a barrow. There is more treasure in the barrow, and a guardian monster.

    currency exchange between gold pieces, dirhams, francs, and dollars

    Friday, June 15th, 2012

    I found this amusing passage in a Kane novel:

    “Have you, say, twenty-five mesitsi gold [about two hundred dollars]?” Arbas asked casually. The stranger faked a hesitant pause–no merit in giving the assassin reason to think to ask for more. “I can raise it.”
    -Karl Edward Wagner – Darkness Weaves

    I don’t know why, but I find the exchange-rate note charming. It also matches with my intuition that buying a 10-GP sword is approximately the same scale of professional expense as, say, buying an $80 electric drill. (Of course, 200 dollars in 1978, when the novel was written, is probably more like $600 in 2012.)

    Oddly, I’ve been noticing a lot of specific expenses in books lately, which I can use to construct a tenuous web of currency equality.

    This man used to work in the baths for a daily wage of five dirhams. For Dau’ al-Makan he would spend every day one dirham on sugar, rosewater, violet sherbet and willow-flower water, while for another dirham he would buy chickens.
    -Tales of 1,001 Nights

    According to D20SRD, “the typical daily wage for laborers, porters, cooks, maids, and other menial workers” is 3 SP, which is not too far from the bath man’s 5 dirhams. Let’s say that a dirham is equal to an SP, and the furnace man’s high pay is because Cairo happens to have a strong economy. After all, says 1001 Nights, Cairo’s “soil is gold; its river is a wonder; its women are houris; its houses are palaces; its climate is mild; and its scent surpasses that of frankincense, which it puts to shame.”

    D20SRD is silent on the price of willow-flower water, but a chicken is 2 CP. That means that the bath worker and his wife eat five chickens a day! That seems high to me, but the story goes on to say that, when a guest stays with them, they feed him two chickens a day. So five chickens is plausible!

    As a fun bonus, if we take the SRD, Kane, and 1001 Nights as equally valid, we can determine that 10 dirhams = 1 GP = $8 in 1978 = $24 in 2012, and we can infer the important fact that, in 1001 Nights Cairo, a chicken cost 50 cents.

    All of this is, of course, nonsense, for many reasons. One of the main reasons is that the US economy is totally incompatible with any historical economy: things used to cost different amounts relative to each other.

    Check out this late 19th century letter from Emile Zola to Cezanne:

    I’ll reckon out for you what you should spend. A room at 20 francs a month; lunch at 18 sous and dinner at 22, which makes two francs a day, or 60 francs a month.…Then you have the studio to pay for: the Atelier Suisse, one of the least expensive, charges, I think, 10 francs. Add 10 francs for canvas, brushes, colors; that makes 100. So you’ll have 25 francs left for laundry, light, the thousand little needs that turn up.
    -Emile Zola via Malcolm Gladwell’s What the Dog Saw

    Look at the amounts budgeted for necessities. A starving artist who eats only two meals a day spends three times more on food than on rent. Half of his money is spent on food. That’s almost exactly the reverse of a US budget, where the food budget is typically 1/3 of rent.

    That’s why we can’t really convert 25 GP to $200 USD. The modern world is too different from the past. Emile Zola, writing in the 19th century, inhabited a world that was, economically, closer to D&D and 1001 Nights than we are now.