This Place is Not a Place of Honor

"This place is not a place of honor."
Written there, 'neath concrete spire
In all the ancient tongues of man
Records chiseled into stone
Proclaim the knowledge and strength
Of those who were here before
Of the hands who dug the tunnels,
Who left the disks and charts.
"We considered ourselves to be
a powerful culture."
Thundering cannons echo in my heart
And I hear a story of war
Written in the blood of generations,
Carved into bedrock
Leaving shadows on the stones.
For what? For rocks
More precious than gold.
For rocks that burn and glow
Rocks that make fire
Fire to melt the ground and scorch the sky
Fire from the sun brought down to earth.
The ash covers my clothes
The wind erases my footprints from the dust
Prometheus, Prometheus,
What have you done?

(Inspired by this article and by the poem Ozymandias)

Quantum (Game) Theory

Recently, I read an excellent article by Draconick called The Quantum Ogre Problem. There's no real need for me to try and say what that article already explained very well, so I'll quote him at length:

[T]he Quantum Ogre problem is usually presented as a party of adventurers facing two paths in the woods. The party can choose to go right or left. But the choice doesn’t actually matter. The GM has decided ahead of time that he is going to throw an ogre at the party along the path. If they take the right path, they will be attacked by the ogre. If they take the left path, they will be attacked by the ogre.

This is problematic, because, as he points out, "players shouldn't be forced into anything."

Let's unpack this a little. I've heard similar advice to GMs before that advocated for putting so-called Quantum Ogres into one's games. The basic thinking is this, as far as I can tell:

• Players are given a choice between (let's say two doors) A and B.
• Your game hinges on them choosing A and discovering what's behind the door.
• They choose B.
• Unbeknownst to the players, you take whatever was GOING to be behind door A and put it behind door B. 
• The plot continues, with the players none the wiser.

My first thought regarding the Quantum Ogre problem is this: why did you give players a choice in the first place? In my experience as a player, one of the absolute worst things a GM can say to players is "You weren't supposed to do that."

That's the beauty and the struggle with tabletop RPGs. Many GMs, myself included, want to create stories the same way a novelist writes novels. But this desire stems possibly from inexperience but definitely from a misunderstanding of what the game is.

The GM and the players are telling a story together. They are both the actors and the audience. This is a very unique dynamic, not typically present in other forms of art or storytelling. What this means is that as a GM, you cannot and should not expect to be sitting in the director's chair, telling "your" players what to do.

If you're not prepared to handle player choice, don't give the players a choice. Obviously, as a GM you need to adjust to the PCs. Players have infinite choices. They could pull out a hidden dagger and sneak attack an unwary king and turn the whole damn campaign world upside down. They could choose to ignore all your carefully planned adventure hooks and go in search of something else. There is literally no good reason for players to automatically buy what you're selling.

This is why it is important to make sure you and your players are on the same page. Are they extremely interested in the setting? They're more likely to go along with it from the get-go. Do you have a good relationship with the players? They're probably going to trust you more and follow the leads you're giving them, knowing that it'll be a good story for everybody. Speaking of good stories, is the game/quest/adventure hook in line with the PCs' goals? While Kal'thar the Dwarven Paladin might want to smash through undead in some ancient tomb, perhaps Vuleera the Catfolk Ranger swore a blood oath to hunt giants and really doesn't give a rat's ass. You as the GM need to give every player a reason to be there. (Also, the ranger's favored enemy is quite possibly one of the biggest or most obvious stumbling blocks between players and GMs. Communicate beforehand in order to have the ranger pick something that's going to make sense and be applicable in the game so that they don't feel left out or like they wasted a class ability.)

Back to my point, though. You as GM need to prepare for players to go off the rails. In fact, in my experience, players go off the rails so much that you might as well not even build the damn rails in the first place.

Letting Players Run the Game

Most games, players outnumber the GM. Going back to my point about how everyone is there to tell a story together, why not put some of those players to use doing exactly that? Most players will happily tell you, at great length, about their characters and what those characters want in the world of the game. (Sometimes they don't, and they're just in it for the adventure. These players may be easier to lead around from plot point to plot point.)

When players tell you about their characters, listen. Put down your GM notes and turn your brain off for a minute. Let the player tell their story. Really listen to what they want, keeping in mind that they don't want it handed to them. We play games partly because we want meaningful challenges. If a player wants the Golden Fleece, they're going to be let down when they find it being carried by the random goblin they killed in their first encounter. That wasn't meaningful. They didn't have a chance to struggle, to make tough decisions, to grow, to rise to new challenges, to push themselves to their limits. That is what players want. Even, I will speculate, the power gamers and the min-maxers. Sure, those players especially want to win battles or challenges or what-have-you, but they don't want it to be easy. You think they built a super-character so that they could hack their way through dozens of well-armed skeleton warriors? I mean, yeah, partly. But they also did it so they can beat the tough stuff.

Think of video games. I had played Skyrim (on PC, lots of mods) for a while. I loved my character. The game was a good challenge, but I was well-armed and armored and prepared for most fights. The best fights were the ones that pushed my skills and resources to the limit. This is why I played with cold weather and exposure mods, with hunger and thirst and sleep mechanics. I had to plan, I had to prepare, I had to risk death on frozen mountains with frost wolves or trolls or whatever bearing down upon me.

Then I broke it. I learned about an enchanting-alchemy loop and decided to try it out. It goes like this. Enchant an item that boosts your alchemy. Then, with that item equipped, make a potion that enhances your enchantment. Drink the potion, then enchant a better item that boosts your alchemy more. And so on, ad nauseam.

At the end of it, I had armor that made me essentially immune to damage. I had effectively infinite mana, and my weapons did so much damage that the exact value was arbitrary. At that point, I quit. What was the point, when nothing challenged me any more? I hadn't finished the story, but I had beaten the game, and it lost its fun.

Players want challenges. They want to have a meaningful contribution to the story. But they also want an interesting story. We like our action heroes in movies to come out on top, but we want to see the struggles and the tough choices.

Listen to your players. If they're eager for action because things are getting slow and the fighters are getting itchy, give them an encounter. (By the way, IN MY OWN GAMES, I despise the idea of random encounters. We're telling a story, and as we construct our narrative, very little should happen "randomly." Even if I more or less arbitrarily choose an encounter, I'm going to find a way to fit it into the larger narrative.)

If the players need to acquire some item or MacGuffin, listen to their ideas on how to do it. Maybe your first thought was to have them sneak in somewhere and steal it. What if they want to make a deal with the owner instead? I guess at the heart of the Quantum Ogre problem is the value of player agency. Do you let your players make meaningful decisions or not?

Let me ask that again, because it's really the crux of whether or not the game is going to be fun for everyone: Do you let your players make meaningful decisions or not?

Now, let me say this, not every player decision needs to affect the direction of the overall story. When I read Draconick's article, I thought of my own pseudo-scientific term to describe my own GM style: Plot Entanglement.

Obviously, I'm trying to keep with the "quantum mechanics" theme here, but let me explain and hope it sounds clever.

Player character actions don't have to affect the entire story, but they should be tied in to the plot. Players should be able to see the effects of their actions and decisions.

Here's an example of a decision that didn't affect the direction of the plot in my game, but did give the players agency and let them drive a huge portion of the story.

The Fiendish Relics or the Dragonslayer's Regalia?

My players were in the world of Eberron, transported there from Greyhawk. Somehow, unknown to them, they got caught up in the so-called Draconic Prophecy, the great ineffable mystery that supposedly foretells and possibly guides events. Certain dragons aren't so fond of mortals interfering or participating in the Prophecy. The PCs got the heads up that they were likely going to have to fight dragons, and were told of two sets of artifacts that would help them.

The first was ancient and demonic. The second was beautiful, elven. The first would be easier to obtain but much more dangerous to wield. The second were harder to obtain, but came with none of the nasty side effects.

The players got to choose, and many sessions were defined by their choice. They could have even chosen not to retrieve them at all, and instead opt to go it alone. All the choices came with consequences. At the end of the day, this amounted to kind of an extended side quest that tied up a few loose ends, but it didn't have much effect on the larger plot. Sure, they got to see a demonic city instead of an elven one. They made many terrible decisions retrieving demon weapons that they wouldn't have made dealing with the elves. But they made their choice and I built the world in that direction for them.

Player Agency

Player agency is at the heart of this entire discussion, which makes sense because that's what puts the RP into RPG. Some of the best interactive stories don't necessarily give players agency, but they let players feel like they have it.

Half-Life 2 (God rest the franchise's soul) is an amazing game that puts players in control of Gordon Freeman as he fights back against the alien Combine overlords who have overtaken the planet. The game has fantastic music and cinematic action. You feel like you in the driver's seat (or at least, that's the intent) as the entire story revolves around your actions. You are the one who shoots down the gunships. You are the one who fights the giant alien striders. You are the one who storms the prison with your swarm of friendly alien bugs.

The entire plot only moves forward because you accomplish all these things. It is also completely linear. The way many modern games wink and nudge at role-playing or choices or morality is completely absent. There is one path, and by God, you're going to take it. But, thankfully, you're going to want to take it. Pounding electronic beats thump alongside the bursts of bullets from Combine soldiers. You grab an explosive barrel with the gravity gun and chuck it at the soldiers and watch as it explodes. A Combine gunship approaches, whirring in the distance. Run.

Cinematic set pieces make the game fun. The feeling of power and agency makes the game fun.

Tabletop RPGs are not video games, nor should they necessarily aspire to be. Player agency works differently in a tabletop game versus a video game. A GM can plan and adapt in ways that a scripted story cannot. And if I may be so bold, a GM should adapt.

Let players make choices, but don't give them meaningless ones. Don't be like a video game where you ask the same question over and over until players choose the "right" answer.


Anyway, this got a little long-winded. I didn't write it all at once and I sort of lost my train of thought. A more succinct article by @FinlamElman can be found here.

Maybe this will give you something to think about, as a GM or as a player. If you've got more questions or want me to elaborate on my ramblings, you know where to find me!

There Will Be Blood (HP and Damage)

I’ve been seeing a lot of discussions lately about Hit Points and damage in D&D. This is a topic I have a lot of thoughts about. Strap in!

Firstly, what are Hit Points? Hit Points, or HP, are… Hm. I thought this would be easier.

From a rules perspective, Hit Points are essentially a measure of how much damage you can take before you die or fall unconscious. When an enemy succeeds on an attack (spell, whatever) against your character, the attack deals damage, which is deducted from your HP. When you fall to 0 (or an effect would reduce your HP to below 0), you are unconscious and dying. 

This begs the next question: what is damage? 

Hearing the word “damage” makes it seem like something is physically happening to your character. A sword is cutting you, a fireball is burning you, etc. But does it make sense to have your character getting blasted by a dragon’s acid breath (for example) over and over and walking away with all their flesh intact? A high-level fighter can get “hit” by a sword many times before suddenly dropping to unconsciousness. Does this make sense? 

One recent Twitter conversation I saw talked about the idea of HP being a character’s ability to turn a deadly attack into a glancing blow. If I remember correctly, this was sort of the design philosophy back in 3/3.5e, and it seems to have carried over into the current edition. 

This interpretation means that when a high-level fighter gets “hit” by a dragon’s claw attack, the claws are not actually hitting him. It means that he dodges or ducks the strike, but his stamina and luck are running out. This is a somewhat cinematic interpretation of Hit Points and damage. Heroes get into scrapes and fights and escape by the skin of their teeth. After several rounds of combat, someone gets the upper hand and deals the final blow to their enemy (represented by the enemy falling below 0 HP).

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What if you don’t like this interpretation? It works perfectly fine for some people, but what about another option? 

What if damage were less abstract? What if a hit was a hit and damage was just… damage?

This brings up a few considerations which I will summarize here before explaining:

1. How many times can you really get hurt before you're out of a fight?
2. How do you, then, avoid getting hurt in the first place?

The first consideration can be expanded upon thusly: if you change the rules and make combat less abstract, characters won’t be able to take a lot of damage. If each hit with, say, a sword, is actually getting hit with a sword, then each one of those is really going to mess you up.

For the second consideration: because of characters not being able to take a lot damage, the goal of a character in a fight (like a person in the real world) should be to reduce damage that they take OR (even better) avoid getting hit at all.
In the real world, for example, armor does not make you harder to hit. If anything, bulky armor would technically make you a slightly larger target. Rather, armor reduces damage by providing a barrier between you and the thing hitting you. Hardened armor prevents cuts or stabs while layers of padding reduce the impact of hits. (This is the quick and dirty explanation.)

Additionally, at least as far as swordfighting or fencing goes, the goal is to block incoming attacks with your weapon or a shield, or to dodge them. If you watch a swordfight, they usually do not drag on for long, maybe for the equivalent of only a few D&D turns.

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So let’s say you do want to change the system of HP and damage. I suggest two things to address the above concerns: a new balance of how many Hit Points is appropriate for a character, and a system for avoiding and reducing damage.

For the first modification, how do you stretch out a modest amount of HP over 20 levels? Maybe you do, and maybe you don’t. When I played 3.5e, we used the Epic 6 system, which capped progression at level 6 and created sort of a hybrid system for us.

By capping HP at around 40-60 points, we created a system where, combined with armor as DR, characters could shrug off or avoid most hits. They were skilled warriors who could often defeat Medium-sized enemies in fair combat. I emphasize those last three words because things like sneak attacks, ambushes, and being outnumbered still posed significant risk. Also, spells and psionic powers were much more potent because they did not take armor into consideration.

The system we used, which was derived from a book called Codex Martialis, also allowed characters to attempt a "bypass" attack, which was akin to a "called shot" that if successful, struck a weak point, thus bypassing a character's armor bonus. 

While Medium-sized enemies were manageable, the PCs were able to engage with larger, dangerous foes, knowing that only a few "hits" could bring them near death. With strong armor, suddenly getting hit by a dragon's claw attack and getting hurt but not eviscerated starts to make sense. 

For another solution, consider Legend of the Five Rings. Characters start with Hit Points in the 30-40 range, and this is difficult to increase. Combat in that system is extremely dangerous and is not to be taken lightly. 

Regarding the second modification, we used Parry and Dodge rolls (which can slow down combat, so this works well for games with infrequent combat), and armor as Damage Reduction, as mentioned above. Players added their base attack bonus to Parry/Dodge (now it would be proficiency bonus), so the more skilled they were at combat, the better they were at avoiding damage.

Attacks from creatures of Large size or bigger could not be parried. (Note: all PCs in this game were Medium size.) Honestly, how is that little sword going to block a greatclub the size of a tree trunk? This made Dodge actions much more important late in the game. 

Codex Martialis also tried to introduce a "range" system to melee combat, with the closest being grapple range, but I don't remember how this worked other than that it slowed combat to a crawl so we streamlined the good parts and scrapped the rest. 

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I personally prefer playing this way. I like players to want to avoid danger, or be smart about it rather than feeling like they can run in and shrug off hit after hit. I'm not so good at managing the abstract nature of it. Most of my games involve minimal combat, so this system worked well for me and for my players. 

What do you think? Do you like the game as it is, or do you wish it were different? There are no wrong answers, just whatever is fun for you and your players.

Game on!

Where the Wild Things Are

"And Ouranos came, bringing on night and longing for love, and he lay about Gaia spreading himself full upon her. Then the son from his ambush stretched forth his left hand and in his right took the great long sickle with jagged teeth, and swiftly lopped off his own father's members and cast them away to fall behind him. And not vainly did they fall from his hand; for all the bloody drops that gushed forth Gaia received, and as the seasons moved round she bare the strong Erinyes and the great Gigantes with gleaming armour, holding long spears in their hands..." 

                   -- Hesiod, Theogeny (trans. Evelyn-White)

In your world, where do monsters come from?

Dungeons & Dragons is full of terrible beasts and malevolent creatures. Dragons perch atop mountains or live inside abandoned fortresses with their captured treasures. Hideous Lovecraftian horrors exist in the depths of the earth, hungry or mad for power. The surface world is hardly better, with creatures of all shapes and sizes (and sapience) wandering about, threatening to waylay travelers and (sometimes randomly) encounter adventuring heroes.

Goblins, gnolls, medusae, giants, trolls, owlbears, bugbears, bulettes, dire rats, giant spiders, chimeras...

How do these creatures all... fit together? What does the ecology of a fantasy world look like?

Not every game needs to answer these questions. After all, Dungeons & Dragons and tabletop RPGs in general are about telling stories, and no one stopped the Oedipus story to ask where the sphinx came from.

To be honest, many players and DMs probably don't care or don't think about it. It's not really important what a 15-foot giant eats when all you care about is killing it and taking its loot. But the questions that arise when trying to make sense of a fantasy ecology can shape a campaign or setting in interesting ways. For example:

What do giants eat? Or dragons? Or any large creature? How do these things sustain themselves?

Maybe there's only one such large creature in a given environment. For something like a dragon, that makes sense. They're long-lived and can reproduce once in a great while. What about other large creatures? How many seven-headed hydras are there running around in the swamp? Is there a family of them? If not, where the hell do they come from?

What about intelligent creatures? There might be tribes of goblins/gnolls/orcs/whatever, but is that enough to sustain a population? How do these species not go extinct or inbreed themselves to death? How did all these different species separately evolve into being bipedal and intelligent? Did they evolve?

Interesting ways to solve this:

1. Monsters spontaneously generate from somewhere. This is sort of the "blood of the gods" concept, where monsters just spring up. Strange creatures arise from the earth, or deep within the earth, or maybe cross into our world from another dimension or plane. This is probably the simplest solution, because questions of ecology, reproduction, etc. don't really matter. 
2. Monsters are created by the gods. This is, I feel, the Greyhawk answer. (I'm not familiar with Forgotten Realms so it might apply there as well.) This at least solves the question of what are all these intelligent races doing running around on the planet. Elves were created by the elf god, orcs by the orc god, and so on. Maybe some psycho god decided to start creating monsters, too. 
3. Monsters are actually not that rare. This is how the Eberron setting handled things, it seems to me. Magical beasts were common enough that they were accepted as part of nature. Monstrous humanoids are common enough that they had (in the case of giants) or have (in the case of gnolls/trolls/ogres/etc.) their own nations and societies. Even the dragons have an entire continent more or less to themselves.
4. Monsters stay hidden. I suppose I could call this the "Harry Potter" concept. Monsters exist, but they are distant from cities and inhabited areas. It is rare that common folk will encounter giants or dragons or a horrific winged tentacle beast. Maybe they're out there, but only for the heroes that go looking for them. A large monster like a rehmoraz wandering into an inhabited area is almost a world-shattering event. No one in the village/town/city is prepared for such a thing, because it is all but unheard of. In this scenario, a monster attack could be akin to a natural catastrophe like the 1906 San Francisco earthquake or the blizzard of '77. 
5. It doesn't matter. I guess this would really be the simplest solution. You're just trying to tell a story. Monsters are there because they are, because the heroes need challenges and obstacles. They need foes to battle. The show must go on!
6. Humans are the real monsters. Maybe your game doesn't need to answer these questions at all because violent, monstrous beasts aren't the focus of the story. You'd rather light up your pipe, put on your robe, and contemplate man's inhumanity to man. This works well for games/settings that revolve around war, politics, or intrigue. 

What do you think? Do monsters need an explanation? How does your game or setting answer these kinds of questions?

Invasion of the Body Snatchers

https://twitter.com/disposableidiot/status/981566006643568641

What if in your world, there's something special or magical about people's bodies? A magic effect that only works for dwarves, for example. A barrier that can only be crossed by an orc. In the Eberron setting, the dragonmarks are magical sigils on a person's skin, specific to certain races, that allow their bearers the ability to cast spells and to activate certain items.

What if a BBEG or just an interested group needs to access that particular thing? Or needs to harness a particular skill? In my game, the bad guys had hijacked a Lyrandar airship. Problem is, they needed a member of House Lyrandar (with the mark) in order to fly it. But it seemed to me that the mark itself on the body was the key. This was just my interpretation, but what if you could use that body like a shell?

Now, sure, magic effects could work just fine. Maybe a dominate person or something similar. But... why bother keeping the mind around at all, if the physical body is all you need? Why risk the possibility of dispel magic/psionics? Why risk that person ever escaping? Especially if high-level magic/psionics is rare (as they were in my game), what other options are there? This was where the intellect devourer came into play. 

Replace that person's brain with the intellect devourer. Maybe the intellect devourer couldn't use the active powers (spell-like abilities) of the dragonmark, but my interpretation was that by just wearing the body like a meatsuit, the body and the mark were still there, acting as the key that allowed the ship to fly.

So, maybe in your world there's a portal to the Fey Realm that only opens for elves. Or maybe there's a magic item that only unleashes its full power when held by a tiefling. A truly evil or selfish villain has no problem using people, has no problem completely stripping away someone's identity and leaving them a mindless husk. This could make for a good twist when your players go try and save someone who they think was simply kidnapped and coerced/threatened/charmed into service. How much more horrifying is it when they find out the person has been essentially lobotomized? What won't the villain do to see their plans through?