5/31/19

The Bogged Down Swamp Game


   Brother Thomas, the cleric of Boccob, learned that he may inherit a mysterious “tower” located somewhere in the heart of Ambog Swamp. That residence belonged to his uncle, Anupar, a powerful mage with a life-long fascination for the unidentifiable ruins scattered throughout that vast swamp. But the place is now occupied by an old witch, Jezi Béthorm, and her Goblin cleric husband, Henxuk. If Brother Thomas wants to inherit, he must officially evict those squatters – with the help of his friends, naturally.

   This adventure was actually spread across three game sessions. We played the first session in December of 2017, with 3 players. It was role-play heavy, with no combat whatsoever – a rare thing. We played a second session in March of 2018, with 5 players. The level 5 ranger and the level 6 magic-user joined the party. That one was combat heavy. Orcs. Dire Wolves. Winged Lizards. Hunting Drakes. But the PCs finally got their hands on two interesting magic items: a ring, and a quarterstaff. They missed out on a tome, a weird skull, and an ever weirder talisman. Towards the end, just when they thought they’d located the mysterious tower – a Giant Troll and a Velociraptor attacked them. The ranger really made a huge difference there.



   Fast forward almost a year – because of scheduling problems, a cancelled game session, and my birthday game that couldn’t be pushed back – and at long last we got together again and played that third and last act. The party returned to Gatormouth (an Orlane-esque swamp-adjacent small town) with a new lead: a swamp lad who apparently knows exactly when and where the “wizard’s tower rises from the murky waters.

   And guess what? The lad is right.


   So the party followed the kid’s directions all the way to Moth Lake. When the enchanted lair emerged, it generated a mini tidal wave – and then, from the lone entrance of the edifice, water came pouring out – a lot of water.

   Inside that tsunami, floating undead!

   I had a little chart prepared especially for that purpose. Each PC had a different die roll to make, depending on Strength, Dexterity, and type of armor worn.

   The thief and the barbarian were the lucky ones: that mini tsunami actually carried them towards the magical lair. Heir the magic-user was pushed back to the left of the mat. Brother Tom was swept off his feet and carried over to the right side. Landa ended up in deeper water, close to the middle and slightly to the right.

   Nine ghasts and three ghouls “vomited” by the emerging structure also ended up in random spots: either neck-deep in the swamp or further away inland, up to 60 feet east or west.

   The water finally subsided, and we rolled initiative. The two clerics attempted to turn as many undead as they could. Brother Tom successfully turned six of the nine ghasts, but in doing so he was attacked by a ghoul and failed his Save vs Paralyzation. Catastrophe further developed as Landa rolled a 2, not turning any ghoul at all on the first round.


   As I said in some previous posts, I am always looking for ways to break up that solid cluster of characters on the battle mat. The emerging structure / emptying ballast device is certainly one of the most interesting ways I have managed to do so. There was also a giant gator nearby, just because it’s cool to have a giant gator in a swamp! That enormous beast ambled around and stressed the party, but in the end it did not attack. It was quite confused after that colossal stone structure just rose from the tranquil depths of the swamp. There was a scenario option in which one character could have been dragged underwater by the gator and then released as the structure sank back down a minute later – and that one character could’ve actually entered the dungeon through a submerged back door. But I didn’t use that option.

   Heir blasted one ghast with 3 magic missiles and then jumped 50 feet in order to rescue the paralyzed Brother Tom. Landa succeeded in turning all three ghouls on round two. The thief swam towards the entrance, while the barbarian quickly clambered on top of the slimy structure. Once he was up there, Huthak shot the two closest ghasts with several arrows. Heir carried Brother Tom all the way to the entrance, with some help from Landa at the end. Landa cured Brother Tom’s paralysis with a bead of curing taken from Tom’s Necklace of Prayer Beads.


   They entered the tower just as it slowly begun to sink down again, and went down six flights of stairs to a rather large room with round corners containing a rich assortment of undead creatures – one sleeping revenant, one wight, one ghoul, one ghast, two skeletons, and two teenage zombies (25mm zombies in a pack of 28mm undead: let’s be creative here). There were also two shadows, but the party failed to detect them at first. The room was so cluttered with furniture, crates, a small raft, debris and rotting clothes. Three crystal balls were sitting on a large console in the center of the room. The larger crystal ball was actually mage Anupar’s spelljammer helm. The two lesser crystal balls displayed scenes from the outside, exactly like the screens in a Tekumel tubeway car.

   Each of the two clerics could only attempt to turn one specific undead type per round. Landa first turned the wight, and Brother Tom failed to turn the two skeletons. All these undead were harder to turn because of the evil Goblin cleric hidden nearby, who channelled dark power through his Amulet of Controlling Undead.

   The two shadows surprised the party, and there was melee. The barbarian clashed with the 28mm shadow, and Brother Tom battled the 25mm shadow – yep, that is how I distinguished between the two.


   Heir cast his first fireball at the revenant, also engulfing the ghoul, one zombie, and one skeleton. This is when my cool homemade necrophidius appeared through a gaping hole in the floor and performed its Hypnotic Dance. Heir, Huthak, and unlucky Brother Tom all failed to save vs Spell. Six seconds later the necrophidius retreated inside its hole. A hulking flesh golem climbed up the stairs, and made to join the fight. Landa was now battling an armored skeleton and a shadow, while Grimbald the thief tried everything he could to snap the two level 6 characters – Brother Tom and Heir – out of their hypnotic trance… As I said earlier: catastrophe!


   Slapped hard in the face by Grimbald, Heir snapped out of it, and proceeded to cast his second fireball at the revenant (again) and the two zombies. He rolled an impressive 28 points of damage on 6d6. That’s definitely a hell of a good fireball. All three targeted undead failed to save and were deep-fry carbonized.

   The brazen Hobbit wasn’t there that day, and of course nobody else dared crawl inside that hole in the floor which was full of surprises – including a talkative penanggalan – and could eventually get someone right behind the witch / boss, without her knowing. Oh, and there was also a slight chance of drowning...

   As a DM, you want at least one character like the Hobbit bard in your lineup of players. Every scene, he looks at what’s at hand and seems to think, “Now what can I do to make things even crazier?

   Still, and even without a whistling hillbilly Hobbit crawling down a necrophidius-haunted rabbit hole, the entire game was far from being as dull and static as some of the games we’ve had in the past five years. The focus of the action actually shifted from the upper room to the staircase, and then from the staircase to the lower room. I call that success.


   It was crazy enough for my taste. Huthak the barbarian boldly jumped down a whole flight of stairs and found himself literally face-to-face with the Goblin cleric. Heir was all out of spells except for mirror image, and instead he decided to drink a Potion of Polymorph; he transformed into a cave bear, and barrelled down the stairs to close with Jezi the witch and her dreaded necrophidius. The four other PCs had to pass through a stinking cloud: all but Grimbald failed their Saving Throws, and lost one round. Landa was struck with a lightning bolt. Huthak was hit with cause serious wounds. “Bear Heir was slammed with several minute meteors, and everyone was affected by the Goblin’s sneaky disrupt life. Landa cast guidance on Bear Heir, and then cast entangle on a lone wraith. Grimbald vaporized that wraith with his Mind Flayer ray gun. That was cool.


   Huthak and Grimbald fought the Goblin while two clerics and a bear took care of the witch and her necrophidius. Jezi Béthorm died, but her Goblin husband fled the scene with a well-timed plane shift, vowing to return and avenge his dear old wife’s death.


   My biggest fear was to see the party remain in the upper room and “wait it out” until the end. Very static indeed. I put a lot of work into that Y-shaped staircase – but in the end, yes, they did go down those stairs, and even used both sides of the “Y” fork. I was a very happy DM. I recently wrote a blog post about this – getting it just right. This time, we did!

   Brother Tom and his friends now have a magical lair that travels underwater all around Ambog Swamp, but that’s not all: if they ever learn to steer the thing, they could follow the bayous all the way down to Blackmoor and the sea – and then go just about anywhere they choose.

   It is the biggest magic item that I have ever given out in any role-playing game. I’m very happy for them. Well done, guys!


5/15/19

Rules Light


   I read this on Twitter. Someone said, Fuck narrativist and rules light.

   At first I thought it was just plain stupid. Then, I thought about it some more. Why in the world would anyone prefer to have more rules? “Rules heavy” feel like snail mail. I am forty-seven years old, and I don’t want to sound overly dramatic here, but I have probably lived way more than 50% of my life; I’m sorry, but I neither have the time nor the energy to flick through the pages of four books to look up charts and tables and modifiers and argue about special nighttime mounted engagement rule number 284-G. But – apparently – lots of people my age still avoid rules light. Why is that? Masochism?

   Most men are what you might call hardware buffs: we love our building blocks, and it is how we interact with the world around us. Whenever my dad or my uncles are anxious or stressed, they build (or repair) something.

   In the microcosm that is gaming, “building blocks” translate into rules, while the rest translates into lore. Crunch or fluff, aye. But the word fluff in itself is slightly pejorative.

   “Fuck narrativist and rules light.”

   Seriously?

   Role-playing games began as rules light, and narration had a prevalent place in it. Alas, to quote Mike Mornard’s review of Dave Arneson’s True Genius, “mechanics have won” over the years. Modern gamers love their mechanics. Look at Gloomhaven’s tremendous success. And yes, I enjoy playing it, but Gloomhaven is 99% crunch. And let’s not forget that good, steady mechanics enable organized play: you couldn’t have the Adventurers League with just a 56-page booklet. It would quickly devolve into the Arguing League.

   The late ‘80s saw the advent of rules-heavy games. The new trend was realism. Think HârnMaster here. HârnMaster was remarkably painful, in my humble opinion. I seem to remember writing down the words “grievous cut” several dozen times on my 5 or 6 or 7 consecutive character record sheets. That’s the memory I have associated with Hârn. I kid you not. The flow of that game was impeded every two minutes by the GM looking up some chart or matrix or table of armor or listing of critical wounds or diseases or fumbles... I have dermatitis and gingivitis and migraines and joint pain in real life; I really DON’T need infections or muscle tears when I try to escape into a fantasy world! Gimme a break, Doc, will ya?

   If this were The Voice or something like American Ninja Warrior, the crunch would be the performances, scores and / or judges input, while the fluff would be those short bios shown right before every contestant’s performance.

   I love Ichabod Ferndweller, and I love Viari. I don’t know what level they are, or how many hit points they have – and I don’t really care. I do not love Eldar Phantom Titan number two, even though Eldar Phantom Titan number two single-handedly destroyed over fifty units of Dark Vengeance Chaos Cultists. Who cares? You like someone for their “fluff,” not for their crunch. Capt’n Crunch is the only exception I can think of.

   I checked out one streamed game of Gloomhaven and didn’t even watch for an hour. It is super boring. Who wants to see four guys manage their 10 cards and select the lowest possible initiative count so that the Tinkerer is given ample time to heal the Cragheart before the Archers attack. Picture that for a solid three hours. Pure crunch is un-streamable because it is almost unwatchable.

   I no longer bring the books with me on Game Day. I prep the game using the books (at home), and then the books remain at home. I only need my cue cards – but I can tell you an entire story with just your roll of a d20.

   You needed 15 to hit, but rolled a 14? It doesn’t mean you slashed wide and completely missed. Your blade might have ricocheted off the rim of your opponent’s buckler and then violently scraped against the left side of his or her helm, throwing up dazzling sparks, but not causing him or her any real bodily damage – but it was very close indeed.

   Narrativist is easy; you just need to be a little flexible and a little forthcoming. You can do it.

   Long live narrativist and rules light.