dragons in 5e

June 11th, 2012

2 consecutive tweets from my twitter feed:

 

Rodney Thompson (@wotc_rodney) 10h
RIP, Sooty Rediron, my dwarf rogue who was just melted by an acid breath weapon. The first true casualty of @rjschwalb’s #dndnext playtest.
Bruce Cordell (@BruceCordell) 10h
My dwarf fighter Kormak hovers at -13 hp. It’s possible our 2nd level party shouldn’t’ve fought this green dragon. #DnDNext

The green dragon is breathing acid instead of poison! 5e speculation: Every dragon has swapped breath weapons with another. The Red Dragon’s breath weapon is now a line of blinding light (once belonging to the crystal dragon), and the black dragon has taken over the yellow dragon’s breath weapon: salt water.

(Oh man, there are so many B-list breath weapons: hot sand. inebriation gas. shrink ray. apathy gas.)

The speculation is a joke, but the tweets are real. Also for real, I have actually fought dragons in 5e.

I rode Rory’s coattails into the Friends and Family 5e playtest program that preceded the open playtest. There were more monsters in that F+F bestiary, including white and blue dragons. (Don’t be too jealous: the D&D version I played in that early ruleset was much worse than the one we’ve seen in the open playtest. Which means that playtesting is working.)

Like Rodney Thompson and Bruce Cordell, our group was destroyed by the dragon we fought. In that old snapshot of 5e, at least, dragons were TOUGH.

When the white dragon was spotted in the sky, my fifth-level witch wizard, Nelf, crouched on top of a tower, far from the rest of the party. I’d be able to get a fireball off, and, I reasoned, the dragon would rather swoop down and blast the other four party members at once than waste a turn killing one paltry wizard. I was wrong.

My fireball did a lot of damage and got the dragon’s attention. White dragons don’t like fireballs. It changed course and landed next to me on the tower. I’d buffed myself with Resist Energy (Cold), but it didn’t matter, because the dragon launched into a claw/claw/bite routine. I went from full hit points to dead in less than six seconds, and I didn’t even get the dignity of death by breath weapon.

Chewing meditatively on my head, the dragon swooped down on the rest of the party. It unleashed its cone of icy breath. The party died.

The fact that my wizard’s quick death wasn’t a comic freak – that even the party fighters could be flash-frozen in a single round – was, I have to admit, oddly comforting.

But it was a cold comfort.

i really WANT to look at the medusa

June 8th, 2012

The medusa is the figurehead monster for the Good Ship Argument About Save-or-Die Effects. Some people don’t want their character killed by a single failed saving throw, and others argue that if a medusa doesn’t turn onlookers into stone, it’s not a medusa.

The 5e playtest includes a medusa in its bestiary. In this version, gazing upon a medusa is a save-or-die effect, but an optional one; you can always choose to avert your eyes as you fight.

I found this quote in Greg Keyes’ The Charnel Prince: it’s about the gaze of another monster, a basilisk, but it’s worded in such a way that it’s practically game rules.

“They have two blind men with them,” he said. “They serve as its handlers. The rest walk behind. The cage is like an aenan lamp, closed on all sides but one. It makes a light, this thing, and once you have seen it, you can resist only through the greatest contest of will.”

A contest of will? Like a will save? That’s actually a kind of unique mechanic for a turn-you-to-stone monster, which usually attacks fortitude. Say on, Dungeon Master Greg Keyes: how does a basilisk’s gaze force a Will save?

And he saw a light suffusing the landing. It was beautiful, golden, the most perfect light he had ever seen. A promise of absolute peace filled him, and he knew that he could not live without seeing the source of that light.

This is a fun variation on the basilisk/medusa: you see something out of the corner of your eye that’s you know you shouldn’t look at, but you want to. It’s a good excuse to give people two saving throws: a will(/wisdom) save to let them tear away their gaze, followed by a fortitude(/petrification/constitution) save to resist petrification. Personally, I don’t like save-or-die effects, but I don’t actually mind save-or-save-or-die effects.

This effect not only makes the old-school save-or-die medusa less deadly, it could be used to make the 5e medusa more deadly. While you’re fighting that medusa with your eyes averted, you can’t help seeing little glimpses of something – a beautiful light, perhaps, or an angelic face. For some characters, maybe medusa cleavage is all it takes. Every round that you fight with your eyes averted, you need to make an easy will/wisdom save. If you fail, you gaze upon the medusa.

Greg Keyes’ quote also contains another cool idea: an army of blind men who carry a basilisk’s eye (or medusa’s head, or ark of the covenant) before them as a totem. A mercenary company of blind warriors with such a weapon would be quite powerful, although they wouldn’t work very well with allied troops.

Have I seen this idea somewhere else – maybe an Elric book or something? No matter, it’s worth stealing anyway.

a new schooler reads Chainmail

June 6th, 2012

As a new-school D&D player, there’s a lot of D&D history I’ve missed. Editing Cheers Gary, gaming with Mike Mornard, and illustrating the AD&D Dungeon Generator have helped, but there’s a lot in D&D that I still don’t understand. I’m going back to the OD&D texts to see whether they can help my new-school game.

I decided to start with the original fantasy roleplaying game: Chainmail!

I’m not a war-gamer, so I expected to get bogged down in pages of elliptical rules that only made sense to other wargamers. I have to say, it was much more readable than I thought!

For the most part, Chain Mail uses a simple system, and most of the rules seem like rulings – fairly logical rulings – on corner cases, mostly involving how awesome awesome Swiss and Landsknechte pikemen are.

Double all penalties for poorly trained troops, and half for Swiss/Landsknechte and horse.

Only Swiss and Landsknechte pikemen can form a hedgehog. If ten or more of these troops are in a square-type formation, pikes or pole arms facing outwards in all four directions, a “hedgehog” has been constituted.

Swiss/Landsknechte Pike Charge: Because of the reputation and ferocity of these troops, an enemy charged by Swiss or Landsknechte pikemen (other than like troops) must roll two dice and consult the Loss Table, just as if they had suffered excess casualties.

Swiss and Landsknechte armed with pikes or pole arms facing the enemy automatically stand any charges.

Swiss/Landsknechte attacking in close formation ( 5 x 2 figures minimum) fight as Armored Foot, with extra die for weapons. For every two men so attacking as additional “mass shock” die is added.

At the Battle of Marignano, Swiss pikemen actually fought Landsknecht mercenaries. Because it was impossible for either side to lose, THE BATTLE IS STILL GOING ON.

There are a handful of charts in the back, but the basic melee mechanic seems to be to to convert your soldiers into a d6 dice pool, roll all the dice, and score kills for every success. 6 is always a success, and for better troop types, 5’s and 4’s can be a success as well. It’s all very… White Wolf.

The 45-page book manages to find room for rules for sieges, and … jousting! Not to mention the 13-page Fantasy Supplement that kicked off this whole D&D thing.

There are a few rules that make me scared to play. For instance:

FATIGUE
Continued activity brings on weariness:
1. Moving 5 consecutive turns.
2. Moving 2 consecutive turns, charging, then meleeing.
3. Moving 1 turn, charging, then meleeing 2 rounds.
4. Meleeing three rounds.

(Except of course that Swiss/Landsknechte can go twice as long in every category before getting fatigued. OF COURSE they can.)

When I read these fatigue rules, I realized how much recordkeeping is involved in this game. Every turn, you have to write down every unit’s move – even if you’re not using the optional “written orders” rule variation. Not only that, you have to look back through your notes to see if each of your units have rested in the past 5 turns, etc. I’d think this would slow the pace way down. How are you going to get through Waterloo in one day at this rate?

There’s also a bunch of stuff you have to reevaluate at the half-move (after the unit has moved half its movement rate). Melee and archery can take place at the half-move and at the end of the move. I wondered why every unit’s movement rate wasn’t just cut in half and one turn cut into two. I’m sure there’s a reason, though.

I’m kind of surprised to say this, but I would… play… Chainmail. I’m just throwing that out there, guys. Any beardos in New York with a sand table?

D&D Next Playtest – Progress!

June 4th, 2012

I took part in the Friends and Family playtest for D&D Next, and I was very pleased to see that many of my concerns from that version have been addressed in the public playtest that was released yesterday!

My positive reactions and continuing concerns, both the trivial nitpicks and more troubling issues, are listed below:

Nice Features:

  • Cantrips: Thank god clerics and wizard have at-will cantrips they can cast in battles. For the most part, these were not present in the previous playtest and it was a serious problem. If you can only cast 2-3 spells in a day then there are going to be several rounds and even whole fights where you can’t contribute meaningfully. At-wills like Shocking grasp, radiant lance, magic missile, and ray of frost give both clerics and wizards meaningful options in combat when they are not able or willing to let loose one of their precious daily-use spells.
  • Constitution and Hit Points: I am glad to see that Con doesn’t add directly to hit points every level anymore. It seems like Con is still a useful stat now, but I won’t feel like a total fool for not making it my secondary stat, which was a serious gripe I had with previous editions and the last version of the playtest.
  • Mundane Healing: Spending hit dice out of combat and adding your Con modifier is a great way to handle mundane healing out of combat. It helps soften the blow if you don’t have a cleric and gives a great alternate use for Constitution. There will be obvious comparisons to the healing surge mechanic, but this feels like a more limited resource and one that is less coldly tied to other forms of healing (such as a cleric healing spell), which was my main gripe with healing surges, that once you were out of them, basically all your options for healing were out of window.
  • Themes: Tentatively themes seem pretty cool. They all seem to give solid powerful effects. My only concern would be that when we see the full list of themes, a small number will tend to dominate over potentially more interesting but notably less powerful themes since they do have obvious and powerful game mechanic effects.
  • Backgrounds: I like that backgrounds feel pretty separate from the combat area of the game. I want to be able to play a commoner without feeling like an idiot. At the same time, they give skill bonuses and other effects, so they have a noticeable impact on the game, just not one that pertains very much to combat.
  • Spells: I am not a big fan of vancian magic, but all in all, these spells seem much more balanced than their counterparts in 3.5. I am not 100% sold on hit point requirements for spell effects, since I don’t like the weird annoyance that comes when guessing how effective your spell will be. This could, of course, be easily addressed by a magical trinket that allows the wizard or cleric to determine if their spell would be fully effective or not. I DO like the mechanic of a spell being limited in power when an enemy is at full health or is higher level. It allows for fun teamwork, for example, where the fighter hacks an ogre down to below 4o hit points so the wizard can cast Hold Person and allow the rogue to finish it off with sneak attack without taking damage from future attacks.
  • Flatter Attack, Defense, and Skill Curve: One of the things from this playtest and the previous version that I really love is flattening out the generic power curve as you level. In 4e, you get a +1 to attack, defense, and all skills every other level, which means that a monster more than 5 levels above or below your level is a completely inappropriate challenge, even when encountered alone or in big groups. 3.5 also had similar problems with attacks and skill points. Earlier editions had the problem with attack progression. In 4e, the  weirdness is most keenly felt in skills, where most skill checks rise in difficulty as you level, making it unclear why you are getting bonuses to the skills in the first place. Those DCs that don’t increase quickly become trivial for even the most unskilled. Flattening everything out by not giving these routine bonuses makes monsters stay challenging for longer and makes skills feel more objective. Generally, it makes things feel more rooted in reality if I can point to reasons I am better at something (I picked up a new skill or my Strength went up) rather than just getting a generic increase to all my stats.

Concerns:

  • The Rogue: The poor rogue. In 4e, he was pretty awesome, with an obvious and effective role. In the PHB1, if it weren’t for the Ranger stealing the spotlight, the Rogue would have been the most fun class to play, with awesome and effective attacks when it could get combat advantage (which it could accomplish every round with a little planning). In the public playtest (and the previous version), it’s just noticeably lacking when it comes to combat. The rogue in this playtest looks okay when you first glance at it. Hide in the shadows to avoid detection. Spring out and attack with much improved combat advantage (two attack rolls and keep the highest!) and dole out some nice sneak attack damage. The problem is that, with the current rules, you can only do that once every other round! Hiding takes an action; it is not part of movement, and there is no other easy way to get combat advantage. So the level 1 halfling rogue, if everything goes well, alternates between hiding in one round, and getting an attack at +5 with combat advantage (roll twice, take highest result) for 2d6+3 damage (10 on average) in the next round. The dwarf fighter, in contrast, attacks at +6 for 2d6+7 damage (14 on average, though it is possible that some mistakes were made when calculating fighter damage) EVERY ROUND. And if they miss, they still do 3 damage from reaper! That’s embarrassing. So essentially the rogue is dishing out considerably less than HALF the damage the fighter can do in combat! Obviously, a rogue could make up for this a bit by not hiding every other round, but that seems to ignore most of their cool abilities. A quick solution I would propose is to gives rogue’s a special ability that lets them make a roll to hide as part of their movement. Thus, if they roll well to hide and position themselves carefully they can do solid sneak attacks every round, which would bring them about up to the power level of the fighter in combat (or close enough), while affording them their own kind of survivability.
  • Rolling for Hit Points: Gah, I really hate rolling for hit points. It means that my character can go from being pretty powerful to extremely fragile (or unusually tough) in the course of one or two levels. Now, I would normally deal with by just giving everyone half their hit die when they level. I did that for 3.5. However, there is a rule that says you get your con modifier at minimum when you roll for hit points. Weird! I guess if this rule stays in, I will likely suck it up and ignore it. If it makes Con slightly less attractive, well I can deal with that. While we are on the subject as Con as a minimum for hit point rolls, that’s kind of a weird rule! If anything, it makes Con MORE attractive for the wizard and rogue who can significantly boost their average rolls with a high Con and LESS attractive for fighters or clerics who are less likely to roll 1st, 2s, and 3s on their hit dice rolls when they level. Generally, I’d advocate ditching the minimum Con for hit points rule and presenting rolling for hit points as an optional rule.

jurgen’s rituals

June 1st, 2012

After writing 99 rituals to gain power over fey creatures, I probably don’t need any more, but I can’t resist collecting them.

James Branch Cabell’s novel Jurgen is a weird combination of picaresque and high fantasy that takes the usual conceit of the picaresque, “every level of society is absurd and corrupt”, and it extends it to fairyland, heaven, hell, and other planes of existence. I think the book might have a Message, but I was too busy taking notes on the rituals needed to overcome supernatural creatures.

And the notary’s wife followed her to Amneran Heath, and across the heath, to where a cave was. This was a place of abominable repute. A lean hound came to meet them there in the twilight, lolling his tongue: but the notary’s wife struck thrice with her wand, and the silent beast left them.

Characters might learn that being struck thrice with a wand of, say, ash, causes hellhounds to flee. Three strikes requires three melee hits, so there will be an interesting tension between this and the fact that three sword hits might just kill the creature. Of course, the math is different if three strikes with the wand causes the hellhound to SERVE the striker.

The voice of Dame Lisa, now, was thin and wailing, a curiously changed voice. “There is a cross about your neck. You must throw that away.” Jurgen was wearing such a cross, through motives of sentiment, because it had once belonged to his dead mother. But now, to pleasure his wife, he removed the trinket, and hung it on a barberry bush; and with the reflection that this was likely to prove a deplorable business, he followed Dame Lisa into the cave.

In this circumstance, Jurgen is forced to give up what’s obviously a potent protection in order to enter a magical realm. This is the type of decision that monsters may well try to force on PCs. What if you can’t enter the vampire’s castle unless you leave your holy symbol at the door?

“If this Thragnar has any intelligence at all and a reasonable amount of tenacity, he will presently be at hand.”

“Even so, he can do no harm unless we accept a present from him. The difficulty is that he will come in disguise.”

“Why, then, we will accept gifts from nobody.”

“There is, moreover, a sign by which you may distinguish Thragnar. For if you deny what he says, he will promptly concede you are in the right. This was the curse put upon him by Miramon Lluagor, for a detection and a hindrance.”

Two great fairy rituals here. Accepting gifts from someone is an obvious way to put yourself into their power, so you’re probably best off if you never accept gifts or food while in fairyland.

I also like the fact that the creature will always concede to your denials. It’s a quirk that could give personality to a conversation. Even if the PCs don’t know about the weakness beforehand, it’s the kind that they might be able to figure out.

the trapmonkey cleric: basing perception checks on wisdom

May 30th, 2012

5e says that it is going to make attributes more important than skills: if you want to open a door, you roll your Strength. If you want to notice something, you roll your Wisdom.

This really highlights the fact that Perception has been a problem since early D&D, when it was briefly its own attribute. That’s not a great solution, but the 3e+ solution, making it a skill based on Wisdom, is not great either. It’s strange when the cleric is the best member of the party for finding secret doors and noticing ambushes.

This issue was less central in 3e and 4e, where skill points and training bonuses could be used to shore up the Wisdom shortcomings of alert rogues and rangers. But in a system where perception checks are made by a more-or-less unmodified use of your Wisdom stat, we’ll find ourselves in a world where clerics and paladins are scouting ahead of the party to look for traps.

To decide how to deal with perception, I think we should think about what classes we expect to make difficult Perception checks. I think that the best watchmen in the party should be rogues, with their trap sense; rangers, with their keen eyes; and barbarians, with their feral alertness. Clerics should be solidly middle-of-the-pack.

Based on this class-down design, it actually makes sense for perception skills to be folded under the Dexterity attribute. In most editions, rogues and rangers usually have high dexterity. Barbarians can sometimes get away without high dexterity, but they shouldn’t: warriors who wear only loincloths had better be quick.

It’s a bit of a conceptual stretch to jam sharp ears and keen eyes under Dexterity. It might help to rename “perception” to something like “alertness” or “quick wits” that does a better job of implying speed and subtlety.

Moving perception-based skills to Dexterity doesn’t really solve the base problem, which is that perception doesn’t really go with any of the six attributes. It does, however, better model people’s expectations about what characters are good at what.

The other solution? Go OD&D. Get rid of Perception checks altogether. If people are searching a room, ask them where they are searching. If they listen at doors, or try to ambush enemies, give everyone a static 33% chance of success (maybe more if they’re an elf). At least this approach dethrones the hyper-vigilant cleric.

the night land and the tragic story of the D&D world

May 25th, 2012

I previously described William Hope Hodgson’s The Night Land as the Shadowfell sourcebook written in 1912, but I never got around to quoting any inspiring passages.

I stood in one of the embrasures of the Last Redoubt—that great Pyramid of grey metal which held the last millions of this world from the Powers of the Slayers.

Outside of one populated pyramid, the world is dark. (As you might expect from its name, The Night Land is a dying-sun or dead-sun novel, set on Earth, millions of years in the future.) The inhabitants of the pyramids know of no humans who live outside the pyramid. That’s one thing that The Night Land has over any plane of shadow, actually. Even if you’re trapped in a realm of shadow, you know that the multiverse is alive with light and life. Outside of the Last Redoubt, though, there’s nothing… forever.

Here’s a section where the protagonist gives a bestiary and geography of the Lands. I can’t resist quoting this giant section because it’s all so creepy:

And so back to my telling. To my right, which was to the North, there stood, very far away, the House of Silence, upon a low hill. And in that House were many lights, and no sound. And so had it been through an uncountable Eternity of Years. Always those steady lights, and no whisper of sound—not even such as our distance-microphones could have discovered. And the danger of this House was accounted the greatest danger of all those Lands.

And round by the House of Silence, wound the Road Where The Silent Ones Walk. And concerning this Road, which passed out of the Unknown Lands, nigh by the Place of the Ab-humans, where was always the green, luminous mist, nothing was known; save that it was held that, of all the works about the Mighty Pyramid, it was, alone, the one that was bred, long ages past, of healthy human toil and labour. And on this point alone, had a thousand books, and more, been writ; and all contrary, and so to no end, as is ever the way in such matters.

And as it was with the Road Where The Silent Ones Walk, so it was with all those other monstrous things … whole libraries had there been made upon this and upon that; and many a thousand million mouldered into the forgotten dust of the earlier world.

I mind me now that presently I stepped upon the central travelling-roadway which spanned the one thousandth plateau of the Great Redoubt. And this lay six miles and thirty fathoms above the Plain of the Night Land, and was somewhat of a great mile or more across. And so, in a few minutes, I was at the South-Eastern wall, and looking out through The Great Embrasure towards the Three Silver-fire Holes, that shone before the Thing That Nods, away down, far in the South-East. Southward of this, but nearer, there rose the vast bulk of the South-East Watcher-—The Watching Thing of the South-East. And to the right and to the left of the squat monster burned the Torches; maybe half-a-mile upon each side; yet sufficient light they threw to show the lumbered-forward head of the never-sleeping Brute.

To the East, as I stood there in the quietness of the Sleeping-Time on the One Thousandth Plateau, I heard a far, dreadful sound, down in the lightless East; and, presently, again—-a strange, dreadful laughter, deep as a low thunder among the mountains. And because this sound came odd whiles from the Unknown Lands beyond the Valley of The Hounds, we had named that far and never-seen Place “The Country Whence Comes The Great Laughter.” And though I had heard the sound, many and oft a time, yet did I never hear it without a most strange thrilling of my heart, and a sense of my littleness, and of the utter terror which had beset the last millions of the world.

As I mentioned, the unrelieved bleakness of a dying-earth story beats the spooky exoticism of the Shadowfell. Therefore, the details of The Night Land might be better used in your D&D game as the hopeless final destination in a time-travel game. If you go that route, you might need to provide some intermediary time-stops: if The Night Land is ten million years in the future, what do things look like five million years from now?

Hodgson has a character recall a time before the sun quite went out, and it’s also worthy of mention.

She did see, as in a far dream, yet very plain, a great metal roadway, set in two lines that went forever unto the setting Sun; and she then sudden to say that she did see in her memory the Sun, and she to have a strange and troubled amazement upon her. And there did be Cities upon the great road; and the houses did be strange-seeming, and did move forward eternally and at a constant speed; and behind them the Night did march forever; and they to have an even pace with the sun, that they live ever in the light, and so to escape the night which pursued forever, as she did tell, and a dread and terrible chill that did live in the night. And there did be cities far forward in the morning Sunshine, that did have gone before at speed, and set the husbandry of the world, and to be finished and gone forward again ere that certain of the latter cities did come to that place to the reaping; and the night to come presently to that place; but this not to be for some part of a year after that the crops were taken. But how long this might be, she not to remember.

Walking cities that lumber around the earth to avoid the dread night of a year-long day! Another good setting there. And now our future-pointing time travel game has three stops, each more depressing than the last:

  • Dark Sun
  • The Walking Cities
  • The Night Lands

    To complete the tragic downward spiral of the D&D universe, we should add three ancient-past time-travel hubs, each grander and more comforting than the last, until we get to the dawn of the world, when people lived in harmony and the gods walked the earth.

  • the badass skeletons of the Fiend Folio

    May 23rd, 2012

    The 1e Fiend Folio spent years in the doghouse. As a kid, I wrote off the Folio as a collection of gimmick and useless monsters – including the adherer, flail snail, carbuncle, and flumph – topped off with an unnecessarily large helping of badass skeletons.

    Lately, there’s been a bit of a reclamation project, with various game designers and bloggers returning the the Folio for inspiration. I’ll do the same today. I’m leaving the flumph for someone else, though; as part of the May of the Dead carnival, I’ll be rating, in alphabetical order, the Fiend Folio’s many, many badass skeletons.

    Apparition

    Non-Badass Appearance: As badass skeletons go, the Apparition is pretty conservative. He’s only half-heartedly swathed in mummy bindings, and no sinister fires burn in his eyesockets. Only the Russ Nicholson art saves him from mediocrity.

    Badass Mechanics: The Apparition has 8 HD and 0 AC, and, like many of the Fiend Folio critters, it has unique insta-death mechanics. If you roll over your Intelligence AND Constitution on 3d6, you “suffer a massive heart seizure and die instantly.” I like this monster because if you’re sufficiently smart, you’re totally immune to its powers. Stay in school, kids!

    Badass Rating: 1 Skeletor

    Coffer Corpse

    At 2 HD, the Coffer Corpse is one of the few low-level badass skeletons.

    Badass Description: The Coffer Corpse is “found in stranded funeral barges”, so keep that in mind when you are planning an adventure on a stranded funeral barge.

    Badass Mechanics: The Coffer Corpse doesn’t cause you to save or die. He just grabs you by the throat and, like Bryan Adams, never lets go (until you kill him, which shouldn’t take too long as he has an average of 9 HP.)*

    Badass glowing eyes: Check.

    Badass Rating: 3 Skeletors

    *I mean until you kill the coffer corpse. But Bryan Adams also has 9 HP.

    Crypt Thing

    The Crypt Thing just sits in his crypt all day (% in lair: 100%) and uses his special mechanics to puzzle wayward adventurers.

    Badass Mechanics: The Crypt Thing teleports each saving-throw-failing party member 100-1000 feet in a random direction, and lies to the rest of the party, claiming that the teleported creatures have been disintegrated.

    Badass Motivation: Although they are neutral, “their aim appears to be solely that of obtaining pleasure by creating confusion and dissent.” I guess it’s the kind of neutral that is slightly chaotic and slightly evil. For a skeleton with glowing eyes, though, it’s practically Lawful Good.

    Badass Appearance: This guy looks a lot like Skeletor, so full marks for that.

    Badass Rating: 3 Skeletors

    Death Knight

    Badass Story: The Death Knight is a lich created by Demogorgon from a fallen human paladin. Every word of this sentence drips with Metal!

    Badass Hit Points: The Death Knight has 9 HD, but he’s so awesome that they’re TEN SIDED DICE. I guess because they’re from paladin class levels.

    Badass Stats: The Death Knight has high stats even by paladin standard, which is saying a lot. He has 18/00 Strength and his Intelligence is Average-Genius. He also speaks 3-6 bonus languages!

    Badass Mechanics: The Death Knight has more kickass powers than you can shake a femur at. Highlights include 75% magic resistance that, 11% of the time, reflects spells at their caster; power word kill; a 20-dice fireball; and a gate spell.

    Badass Steed: The Death Knight rides a nightmare. That’s the gold standard for villainy. If you’re a bad guy and you have to ride a regular horse, you might as well hang it up.

    Badass Rating: 5 Skeletors

    Eye of Fear and Flame

    Badass Life Goal: “It constantly stalks the underworld seeking lawful or lawful/neutral parties or individuals. It will command an individual, or member of a party, to perform evil deeds.

    Badass Mechanics: One eye fires a 12-die fireball every three rounds. The other acts like a fear wand every round. That’s a lot of magic that it’s slinging around. That’s what you get if you don’t perform evil deeds.

    Badass Glowing Eyes: Yes, and they are gems worth 1,000-2,000 GP each.

    Badass Rating: 3 Skeletors

    Gambado

    Non-badass Description: “Supported on its thin (but very strong) neck is a skull – usually of an animal but sometimes of primitive man.” A primitive man? Like a soccer hooligan? How can you tell that from the skull? Or is it, like, a hominid? Anyway, the gambado’s body is like a cylindrical spring. It hops.

    The gambado better be, like, a South American legend or something, otherwise this is pretty lame. (consults dictionary dot com) No, “Gambado” is just an old fashioned word for a hop. The gambado hides in a thin little hole and gambadoes out at people. STUPID.

    Badass rating: 0 Skeletors

    Huecuva

    The Huecuva is a 2-HD monster, “similar in appearance to a robed skeleton”. It has two gimmicks: it is able to polymorph self three times a day, and its touch infects the victim with acute cardiovascular-renal disease. I kid you not. Mechanics based on the Diseases chart in the DMG!

    This one IS based on a South American legend. A point for that.

    No points for the mummy wrappings. It looks like the Huecuva saw the illustration for the Apparition and thought to itself, “I can get more wrappings than that guy.” There is such a thing as TOO many wrappings, Huecuva. You look like a kitten that got into the yarn: there’s a thing called self-control. Don’t give me that look.

    Badass Rating: 1 Skeletor

    Necrophidius

    Badass Name: Necrophidius. Great name. “Drown in your tears of terror, for I am Necrophidius the Malificent!” “Ladies and gentlemen, the next president of the United States: Necrophidius!” “Necrophidius, bring the car around front.” Necrophidius.

    Badass Mechanics: The necrophidius is another hopping snake skull-head like the Gambado, but at least it can execute the Dance of Death (treat as hypnotism).

    Badass Construction: You can make your own necrophidius! The ingredients include “the complete articulated skeleton of a giant snake (poisonous or constrictor) and the skull of a cold-blooded murderer killed in the last 24 hours.” The good thing about this is, after you kill the murderer in order to make your snake, YOU are a cold-blooded murderer, so your skull can be used to make a second necrophidius!

    Badass Glowing Eyes: Yup.

    Badass Rating: 4 Skeletors

    Revenant

    Badass Backstory: “Under exceptional circumstances, those who have died a violent death may return from beyond the grave to wreak vengeance on their killer – as a revenant.” Revenants do all sorts of creepy stuff to their killer: “lock its claw-like hands around its victim’s throat,” “stare into his killer’s eyes” causing the killer to be “paralysed with terror”, and track the killer “wherever he may be.”

    Badass Indestructibility “Weapons – normal and magical alike – do not affect the creature.” If it is somehow dismembered anyway, its limbs continue to act. It regenerates 3 HP per round. It is immune to acid. I see why the description talks about the revenant tracking its victim – this is a guy you want to run away from.

    Badass Entry Requirements: In order to become a revenant, you need Wis or Int greater than 16, Con 18, and total characteristics totaling to 90 or more (wow! 15 average! Although it’s not quite as difficult if you use the Comeliness stat.) Even so, you only have a 5% chance of coming back. Why are we getting all this info about how hard it is to become a revenant? It seems to imply that PCs will want to become revenants.

    Badass Glowing Eyes: “Its eyes – sunken in the face – are at times dull and heavy-lidded but, particularly when nearing its intended victim, they will blaze up with unnatural intensity.”

    Badass Rating: 4 Skeletors

    Skeleton Warrior

    As Death Knights are the lich versions of paladins, skeleton warriors are lich versions of high-level fighters. What’s up with thieves? No one wants to make lich versions of thieves.

    Badass Jewelry: A skeleton warrior’s soul is trapped in a golden circlet. If you put on the circlet, you may control the skeleton. While you’re not in control, it tries to kill you. There’s lots of text about how exactly this works.

    Badass Intelligence: Skeleton Warriors have Exceptional intelligence, and are neutral (tending towards evil). If you wore the circlet, could you force the skeleton warrior to work as a college professor, even if you didn’t have a high enough intelligence to do it yourself? I bet Skeleton Warriors are tough graders and they love to fail you. “This will not be sufficient, Mr. Necrophidius. I said five pages, and this is four and a half.”

    Badass Rating: 2 Skeletors

    Son of Kyuss

    Badass Dad: Kyuss was an evil high priest who invented a new form of undead. Living the dream, Kyuss.

    Badass Mechanics: Sons of Kyuss radiate cause fear, regenerate like trolls, and their mighty punches inflict leprosy. More diseases from page 12 of the DMG!

    Badass Gross Worms: Sons of Kyuss have “fat green worms” crawling out of all of their skull orifices. “One worm per melee round will jump from a son’s head to an adjacent character”, potentially turning the character into a son of Kyuss in 1-4 melee rounds.

    Badass Rating: 3 Skeletors

    Eleven skeleton monsters is probably too much for a monster manual supplement! But, as my wife notes, it is almost enough for a calendar. How awesome would that be? I wonder if Russ Nicholson has all of the original art?

    posters and pandas

    May 21st, 2012

    All the posters have shipped! Actually, this was true a couple of days ago, and I’m late with the announcement: many of you have probably gotten your posters by now.

    Dan from GameSalute gave me this graphic, which has a number you can call if you haven’t gotten a poster by this Friday the 25th.

    Dan sent me this image on Thursday, so it’s actually only 1d10-4 days till you get your package.

    Thanks, Dan and GameSalute, for your help with shipping these posters. It would have been pretty much impossible for me to do it alone.

    While I’m thanking people: let me tell you about Rich Burlew.

    When my kickstarter was approaching 1% of the Order of the Stick total, and I asked Rich if he’d help me out with art, he not only drew me a sticker that same day, he waved off any honorarium or payment. Instead, he asked me to make a donation in his name to one of his favorite charities, like the World Wildlife Fund.

    When we passed 2 Burlew Points, it seemed appropriate to make another donation to WWF. It’s against the rules of Kickstarter to raise money for charity, so I’m now using my own funds, not Kickstarter profits, to make a donation, which just happens to be 15% of the profits of the kickstarter. The donation is in honor of the amazing D&D kickstarter community.

    the whimsical fairies of a dead sun

    May 18th, 2012

    In 1912, William Hope Hodgson wrote the very long and very bizarre novel The Night Land. It’s one of those novels that seems like it’s more a D&D sourcebook than a novel. If I were running a fourth-edition game set in the Shadowfell, I’d actually take The Night Land over the D&D Gloomwrought boxed set.

    The Night Land presents some obstacles to the reader. It’s written in High Faux Archaic, with a ratio of five semicolons to the period. It’s long and repetitive, describing every uneventful journey, camp, and meal break. It’s got weird gender politics, even for 1912. But it’s also got some powerful images. H. P. Lovecraft said of it, “The picture of a night-black, dead planet, with the remains of the human race concentrated in a stupendously vast metal pyramid and besieged by monstrous, hybrid, and altogether unknown forces of the darkness, is something that no reader can ever forget.”

    Oddly, this book, which contains a great Shadowfell setting, starts with an evocation of its fourth-edition opposite, the Feywild. The main character and his soul mate have had shared dreams of Fairyland:

    And one evening, that I ever remember, as we wandered in the park-lands, she began to say—-half unthinking-—that it was truly an elves-night. And she stopped herself immediately; as though she thought I should have no understanding; but, indeed, I was upon mine own familiar ground of inward delight; and I replied in a quiet and usual voice, that the Towers of Sleep would grow that night, and I felt in my bones that it was a night to find the Giant’s Tomb, or the Tree with the Great Painted Head, or-—And surely I stopped very sudden; for she gripped me in that moment, and her hand shook as she held me; but when I would ask her what ailed, she bid me, very breathless, to say on, to say on. And, with a half understanding, I told her that I had but meant to speak of the Moon Garden, that was an olden and happy fancy of mine.

    Some good Feywild place names there! Also, you can see that I was not kidding about the semicolons.