What we owe the Western

Note: This was written by me in 2017 and was formerly on another site.

I am far from the first person to note that role-playing games, especially fantasy RPGs, do not bear a strong resemblance to the literary sources most often referred to, Epic Fantasy. While fantasy games may be filled with dwarves, orcs, elves, and goblins during play the characters do not act as if they were on a long, selfless quest for a single goal. Instead they are interested in a great deal of action, motivated by much more immediate rewards of gold and powerful items, and far prefer a series of relatively short excursions.

The rather stark differences between the works of Tolkien, etc. and actual play of fantasy games is clearly, and humorously, demonstrated by the web comic DM of the Rings – ‘the “players” in a game based on the famous books dislike the overly-complicated back story, the nature of “non-player characters”, the relatively slow pace, and also complain bitterly about the paucity of ‘loot’.

What fantasy RPG players are looking for is a much more episodic experience (with the possibility of overarching plots and goals, of course) that have a variety of goals, provide a great amount of action and a diversity of foes, and a ‘payoff’ or frequent rewards. What they are looking for doesn’t resemble a fantasy epic but does look like a pulp Western.

The structure and formula of the classic pulp Western is fairly standard and has remained essential the same from the penny dreadfuls of the 1880s to modern film: a hero arrives; the hero is obviously much more competent than the locals; a villain and his mooks are identified; the hero overcomes the mooks; the hero faces the main villain; the hero receives his reward; the hero leaves. This simple, straightforward structure has helped the Western not only survive it helped the Western dominate popular literature, radio, TV, and film for decades.

Such a simple structure has the advantages that it is easy to add elements and complexity while staying ‘true’ to the core concept. Variants include the revenge story (the motive for the protagonist), the outcast story (the protagonist is wrongfully accused and is working to clear his name), and more. Fantasy RPGs most resemble the Western variation that Dr. Wright of Colorado State University calls ‘the Professional plot’. In the Professional plot there is a group of heroes rather than an individual and the group’s goals may be more focused on rewards than virtue. Examples of this variation include some of Louis L’Amour’s books in the Sackett series as well as the films The Wild Bunch and The Magnificent Seven.

This simple, resilient structure also allowed the Western genre to go through a number of ‘phases’ that can also be seen within the development of fantasy RPGs. The origins of fantasy RPGs strongly resembles the ‘classic Western’: good and evil are clear and obvious; non-‘civilized’ foes (Indians in Westerns, monsters in RPGs) are a looming threat yet are rarely shown in any detail other than as combatants; stories are very episodic. The “second wave” of fantasy RPGs resemble the second wave of Westerns: good and evil are more ambiguous, Natives and humanoids are presented in more complexity, etc.. Story-focused RPGs look a lot like the ‘auteur Westerns’ of the ’60’s and ’70’s with a much stronger emphasis on character development and story, a reduction in violence, and conflict arising primarily from personality and outlook rather than about resources. ‘Hack and Slash’ RPGs and the violent spaghetti Westerns like Django are cut from the same cloth, too.

But these similarities aren’t coincidence. At the turn of the 19th Century the Western was the most popular genre and this had a tremendous impact on popular literature, especially in the growth of science fiction in the 1930’s.

While Verne, Wells and their fellow writers of scientific romance obviously flourished in the 19th Century the scientific romances themselves were not as popular as we might think. Dime novels were everywhere, but were largely westerns, about exploring Africa or the Orient, etc. with science fiction not as popular. Also, a fair amount of the scientific romances, especially from Wells and his fellows, were as much a form of social commentary as entertainment. Wells was certainly not primarily a writer of science fiction (he produced a large volume of non-fiction) and in the early 1900’s he was writing primarily contemporary novels (The History of Mr. Polly), social satire (Kipps), and non-fiction. Verne likewise primarily wrote adventure and exploration fiction with science fiction being less popular at the time. With a number of European authors producing original Westerns in French and German and also enjoying high sales, if no critical recognition, from the 1880s until well into the 1970’s the Western was king.

But the Western was changing.

In 1912 a man with no previous experience as a writer changed everything with the publication of Under the Moons of Mars, which was soon re-titled A Princess of Mars. With this book Edgar Rice Burroughs created the entire Sword and Planet/Planetary Romance genre and changed how we think of science fiction forever. The tales of an Earthman on Mars and his adventures among exotic alien races led to generations of imitators and still exerts a tremendous influence on science fiction and fantasy.

But A Princess of Mars is obviously and directly derived from the dime novel Westerns. In fact, A Princess of Mars begins with the protagonist prospecting in the Southwest and his first foes are Apaches! The conventions of classic Westerns don’t end there, either. Here is an exercise for you – when you read A Princess of Mars follow these steps:

1) Imagine John Carter as a half-breed trying to find his place in the world.

2) Imagine the Green Men as various tribes of American Indians.

3) Imagine the Red Men as White settlers where Dejah Thoris is the daughter of one prominent rancher and Sab Than is the son of a rival family.

If you do you will quickly see that the parallels between Planetary Romance and Westerns didn’t end when John Carter traveled to Barsoom. The many authors imitating Burroughs followed suit, with Leigh Brackett and Lin Carter standing out as excellent examples of Planetary Romance as ‘Westerns in Space’.

The dead sea beds and abandoned cities of Barsoom echoed the deserts and ghost towns of the West, placing John Carter in territory familiar not just to the Western genre but to Burroughs, who had served in the cavalry in the Southwest. These stark landscapes placed in an otherworldly context and against the backdrop of ancient races were certainly an influence on the development of the Dying Earth genre and echoes of Barsoom can be found decades later in Vance’s Dying Earth stories.

The generation that followed A Princess of Mars contained a number of writers critically important to popular literature in general and to the development of RPGs in particular. Among them, Robert E. Howard stands out in importance.

Howard is famous for effectively inventing the sword and sorcery genre. He did this by taking the historical adventure (whether in a real or pseudo-historical setting) and combining it with supernatural elements like the undead, lost races, etc. The first of these stories,“The Phoenix on the Sword”, introduced us to this type of story and also to the character Conan of Cimmeria. This seminal story was published in December of 1932 and the impact of this mash-up is hard to over-state; Conan is as important a pop culture icon as Sherlock Holmes, Tarzan, or James Bond and the tales of Conan are arguably the main literary source for how fantasy RPGs are played.

But the Conan stories are plotted very similarly to Westerns. Conan arrives, he is obviously more competent than the locals, a villain is identified, etc. The other classic elements of the Western, such as the tension between the individual and society, the importance of civilization contrasted with the weakness of the civilized, the special status of women, etc. are also critical to Conan stories. This is most obvious in the story “Beyond the Black River”, which concerns Conan saving a bunch of settlers on the frontier from raids by “savages”. With just a handful of minor edits “Beyond the Black River” makes an excellent Weird West story.

But the amazing thing was Howard had already created another genre in that same year!

Howard had previously written the story “The Horror from the Mound”, a Western story concerning a cowboy fighting a vampire. This tale incorporates a mix of European folktales, Conquistador legends, Native American imagery, and Western characters, showing that Howard had already succeeded in mixing horror with another genre a full seven months before “The Phoenix on the Sword” was published. “The Horror from the Mound” is considered the first Western Horror story and is the birth of the Weird West genre. The time lines are hard to pin down, but it appears that Howard had completed “The Horror from the Mound” immediately before he began transforming an older story into the first Conan tale.

Howard was also an accomplished writer of Westerns with his tales of Breckenridge Elkins, the mighty powerful but mighty dim boy from Bear Creek, standing out as not just great stories but very funny ones, too. Written at about the same time as the Conan tales the stories of Breckenridge seem to contain a few elements of self-parody with Breckenridge’s appearance and physical abilities oddly similar to a certain barbarian while his actions are aimless, destructive, and self-defeating, causing endless torment to those around him. The slapstick tales of Breckenridge are also similar in tone to the tales of Cugel the Clever from Vance’s Dying Earth, although Breckenridge is more clueless than amoral.

The Western peaked in popularity between about 1960 and 1975 when Louis L’Amour and Luke Short were at their most popular (L’Amour sold a total of over 200 million books!) but the genre has been in decline ever since. Many bookstores no longer have a section for Westerns and most, if not all, of the magazines devoted to them are gone. But during its heyday the Western brought us Planetary Romance, Swords and Sorcery, the Dying Earth, and the Weird West. Westerns have inspired writers like Burroughs, Howard, Carter, Vance, and Brackett, a veritable ‘who’s who’ of Appendix N.

I urge fans of Burroughs, Carter, Vance, and the rest, people who play RPGs, and writers to open up a Western and see just why they were so popular. I recommend you start with the Robert E. Howard short stories which can easily be found as ebooks or in omnibus editions. I find that the best Westerns are fine examples of good, clear writing and plotting and they are also sources for adventures and characters for RPGs.

Happy trails!

Worldbuilding: Precision or Atmosphere?

  The Fun Lads Four (who will soon be the Fun Lads Five as the youngest is rapidly joining the nerdery) and I were going over campaign notes last night and we were discussing how very subtle shifts in tone result is massive changes in perception. We think we came up with some insights:

What Do You Mean, 'What Is It For?'?!

  Ah, the internet, where you can argue over all sorts of things. The most recent internet argument I got into was with someone explaining that monsters with a no-save level drain are badwrong and there is no reason to have them other than,

  "...imbecilic blind worship of the past..."

  Uh-huh.
  Of course, I had already pointed out some reason for having such monsters in your game, to wit;

• Instilling terror in the players
• Driving quests for spells, etc. to get Restoration
• To 'throttle' level progression without nerfing XP/raising the bar or railroading players

  Now, I guess I might have just tossed in a link to a past article of mine, but there is that to say and more, so here we go.

What Do You Mean, 'What Is It For?'?!

  Ah, the internet, where you can argue over all sorts of things. The most recent internet argument I got into was with someone explaining that monsters with a no-save level drain are badwrong and there is no reason to have them other than,

  "...imbecilic blind worship of the past..."

  Uh-huh.
  Of course, I had already pointed out some reason for having such monsters in your game, to wit;

• Instilling terror in the players
• Driving quests for spells, etc. to get Restoration
• To 'throttle' level progression without nerfing XP/raising the bar or railroading players

  Now, I guess I might have just tossed in a link to a past article of mine, but there is that to say and more, so here we go.

Villages, Families, and What Would They Look Like? A short entry.

  I have been playing in and creating faux Medieval European worlds for about 4 decades. I've aped more than just Europe, of course, but that is where I lean towards for reasons discussed at great length elsewhere in this blog.
  I also strive to make a world that makes sense, at least internally. My campaign map is small for a reason; Dwarves, Elves, and Gnomes have their racial abilities for reasons related to how they fight wars; Dwarves and Elves are allies despite tensions for reasons that explain the tensions, too. 
  So one of te things that has caught my eye for a long time is - village descriptions. As mentioned in the linked post on distances, above, I do tend to over-analyze sometimes, but it helps me keep everything straight in my head. I also mentioned how the Complete Book of Dwarves and Complete Book of Elves weirded me out with their statements 'elves average 2 kids' and 'dwarves average 3 kids with a 2:1 male:female ratio'. I explained in that post why those number flat-out make no sense. No modern society could survive birth numbers like that even without any form of war.

  In Real Life we can smooth out historical ups and downs to point out that women had, on average, 4-8 (call it 6)children and about 1 in 4 of them died before the age of 5. Of the rest about 10%-15% died before 16. Throwing a little bit of 'paladins and clerics can Cure Disease, etc.' in there and the average family is going to have 4 children survive until adulthood. Now, this does not lead to a lot of population growth because Real Life was lethal and a Fantasy RPG world is really lethal.

  In the modern Western world population is distributed like this;

  So if someone were to drive to a small subdivision of 200 people there would be about 50 households and roughly 25 of the people living there would be children under the age of 16.

  But the population of a faux medieval world should look something like this

  So when you ride into the typical village of about 200 people there would be about 30 households and roughly 65 of the people living there would be children under the age of 16. 

  So when you are designing and mapping villages, remember - fewer homes, a lot more kids!

Law, Chaos, the UK, America, Teutonic Knights, Orcs, and Just What the Heck is Going On With 9th Level Fighters?!

  This one is going to be weird, folks, so strap in.

  The sons and I were talking about gaming (like we do every day) and about some of our other shared passions; history, the Church, and books. We were also talking about my main campaign and how I was always surprised that the handful of guys that made it to 9th level did not get 'all fortressy' but rather angled to take over existing positions within the game

  What I mean is the few characters to hit name level who could then establish a demense all finagled with NPC rulers to take over existing fiefdoms rather than build from scratch.

  Which is, naturally, fine. My oldest speculated that he, himself, might never build beyond the border because there were so many interesting places on the map already; Dwarf Hill, Wyvern Keep, Skull Mountain, the Vanishing Manor, the Tower of the Air, etc. But then we began speculating;

  Why is the assumption that everyone from warriors to priests to mages will strike out into deep wilderness and hack out a corner for themselves?

  I mean, think about it; that is a tremendous amount of expense and risk. Why not do what people in my campaign did and just - get a promotion and retire rather than contend with plague, famine, and orc hordes?
  And why, oh why, would people flock to follow you if, and only if, you did that hugely risky thing?! And not just guys with levels! 0-level men, their wives, their kids! Pilgrims might come and just - settle. I mean, what is going on?

  For a while we speculated that the default D&D world is a lot like the America of the past - vast, largely unexplored, and daring people struck out to make their way.

  [We had the discussion Sunday, I started writing this Monday, and I saw this in my google+ feed Tuesday. Small world!]

  That might be part of it, sure, especially how followers appear and why random encounters sometimes stick around. But does the 'untouched wilderness' really apply to something so Dying Earth as D&D? As the great blog The Hill Cantons points out, based on the wilderness encounter charts the typical AD&D world is littered with ruins of past fortresses, cities, etc. all thrown down to ruin by war or time. And in a manner very similar to North America, D&D wilderness isn't 'untouched', it is full of intelligent being. Berzerkers, cavemen, orcs, hobgoblins, nomads, goblins, kobolds, etc., etc., etc. Heck, you leave patrolled demi-human areas and the 'wilds' are crawling with intelligent creatures. Sure, they're malevolent, but still!
  Plus the AD&D world isn't modeled after 2015 North America or even 1975 Europe, is it? No, the 'place in time' of the real world that seems closest to the default assumptions of AD&D is somewhere between 770 AD and 820 AD; yes, yes, this is speculation, but I can talk about that in another post. Sure,  there are anachronisms for that but that is my guess.
  Now,  modern Europe looks like this;

In 800 Europe looked like this;

Look at the differences! As I point out in my second most popular post ever, in the year 1000 AD the place that is now the Berlin Metropolitan Area, the 6th largest city in Europe, was uninhabited, howling wilderness. 780 AD is 400 years before the first Germans settled on the banks of the Spree!
  In other words, at the time that seems most like AD&D's assumed setting in history Europe was cheek-by-jowl with howling wilderness and hostile forces.
  This means that in the context of the setting and place well behind the curtain of AD&D (Charlemagne's Europe as described in the Matter of France) Europe looked a lot more like 1870's America than most people realize (Although Andy Bartlett did explicitly mention this in the article I linked above). In both places the average person who wanted a better life and who had the courage and resources (or just a lot of courage!) could, and did, set out into the wilderness and start a new life, Heck, that's where little towns like Leipzig and Berlin came from!

  There is also the very mildly controversial topic of the Northern Crusades. In a very high level gloss not meant to dive into the complex, nuanced issues associated with the Northern Crusades, but only to illustrate how it relates to the point at hand over a century of mutual conflict between pagan peoples in North/Northeastern Europe with the Catholic nations to their West and Orthodox nations of their East, where peaceful missionary and diplomatic activity failed, led to a call for a Crusade and a subdual of the pagans by force in the belief that decisive victory would cause the interminable wars to end.
  What followed was some pretty serious and organized expansion and battles from the West. Part of this was having some of the toughest fighters from the West build fortresses in the pagan areas, establish domains, and maintain the peace.
  Sound familiar?
  Heck, sometimes when there were no opportunities to set up in established areas tough, popular leaders would travel even beyond the pagan lands, set of a stronghold, 'subdue the wilderness', and attract people who wanted a better life who could count on the protection of this leader from bandits, etc.
  That had better sound familiar!
  So there is, interesting enough, at least one historical period where something vaguely like Name-level characters starting the 'domain game' did occur, which is pretty cool.

  But I think there is a bit more meta going on, here. In Three Hearts and Three Lions (as well as other books, like Operation Chaos) the author speaks of Law and Chaos as being opposed to each other in a sort of ongoing struggle. But this concept of Anderson's (that seems to have also influenced Dickson in The Dragon and the George) is a lot more complex and nuanced than the shallow, never actually quantified, Law vs. Chaos of Moorcock. Anderson's Law and Chaos (as well as Dickson's  Chance and History) are very much about Virtue/Civilization/Good (Law/History) against Amorality/Wilderness/Evil (Chaos/Chance).
  This was explicitly stated in Three Hearts and Three Lions;

"Holger got the idea that a perpetual struggle went on between primeval forces of Law and Chaos. No, not forces exactly. Modes of existence? A terrestrial reflection of the spiritual conflict between heaven and hell? In any case, humans were the chief agents on earth of Law, though most of them were so only unconsciously and some, witches and warlocks and evildoers, had sold out to Chaos."

  It is also essentially stated that the Church is Law while Chaos is a tool of the Devil. The faerie and their uncaring capriciousness? Chaos, because they could not be trusted.

Despite the desire of contemporary people to think of the faerie/sidhe as fun-loving hippies in folklore they're are much, much more like the Weeping Angels - inhuman, utterly other creatures that if you were lucky will only cast you decades through time away from all you know and love.

  This sort of 'axis' is pretty clear in OD&D where you are Lawful (good) or Chaotic (bad) and it was very much a fantastical experience of fey vs. man.

  But it is more complex and such in AD&D with both the Law/Chaos and Good/Evil axis and the Neutral section. But the core concept remains valid: when a party goes into the (wild, uncivilized) dungeon and destroys monsters the PCs are championing civilization against it's opposite, wildness; when a Lord goes into the wilderness, builds a stronghold, attracts followers, etc. he is championing civilization versus wildness, just on a different level.
  And no, I am avoiding the term 'barbarism' for a reason; woad-painted warriors, nomadic tribesman, etc., can be forces for Law or Chaos, it depends upon if they build or destroy, if they are trustworthy or capricious as a people.

  In my post on how I handle religion in my campaign I mention that the big divide between demi-humans and humanoids is if they are (in general) within the Church or outside of it. But the difference is also 'do those races build civilizations or destroy them?'. Sure, hobgoblins, orcs, etc. are organized, they have skills, etc. But they are wreckers, not creators. In my world they have no cities, they live in what they capture from demi-humans and humans; they have no trade, only plunder; they have slaves who often are worked to death; they have at best war chants but no music, enough writing to issue orders but no literature; etc. Where they go they push back civilization, scrubbing away cities and towns, fences and fields, and leaving behind only brambles, thickets, end desolate ruins.

  So a fighter, wizard, or cleric going into the wilds, building a strong place, attracting followers, and all the rest is, in a very real way, pushing back darkness, ignorance, savagery, and evil. Where there were brambles and thickets he puts fields and orchards; where there was a bare hill he puts a cozy home; where there was darkness there are the lights of a village; where there was isolation and fear he puts friendship and hope.
  No wonder those who want a better life follow.

  So why do 9th level fighters spend all that money and take all that risk? Because they are fighting evil an a new, more important, way.

Building a World, More Nuts and Bolts: The Patchwork Lands

Part I in here
Part II is here

  Since I have my Big Ideas that Drive Things and major locations for weird and for plots (see the previous two posts) I want to nail down local geography in the main campaign region a bit more.

  The broad brush history outline is that a large human empire collapsed under outside attack long before the time of the campaign start and that the main area, the Patchwork Lands, survived because of serious natural barriers. So I roughly sketch out a peninsula isolated from the main continent by forbidding mountains.

   [Cut me some slack - I am no artist and this took about 90 seconds]
  I will have it be East-West oriented with a north to south of about 300 miles north to south and 300 miles east to west plus the longer peninsula on the southern edge. The total area will probably end up being about, oh, 100,000 square miles, or roughly the size of South Korea/Iceland/Colorado and about 1/3rd the size of Italy.
  While the world is vast I do want to start on a slightly smaller scale to drive into the players that they are small fish in a rather large ocean, so this is good. Plus, as I have mentioned before, 300 miles is a very long way in a fantasy world.
  As you might be able to see, I have already labels the northern physical border as the Golden Hills and the southern physical border as the Marches. I will get more local names later, but in the meantime I want to get some local gee-whiz names and places. First, the region east of the barrier mountains will be called the Vast Forest. This will be about a million square miles that looks like:

  With no cities, a few outposts of elves and such, and otherwise - howling wilderness full of things you build large campfires to scare away.

  North of that is the Sea of Grass, a vast plain 3,000 miles or more east to west, 2,500 north to south with just a few rivers breaking up grassy prairie twice the size of all of Europe.

  East and South of the Vast Forest will be other collections of small nations who, like the Patchwork Lands, are recovering from the vast war that destroyed the empire that once ruled this area.

  West will be an archipelago with a small number of city-states in a nod to Vance's excellent Lyonesse series.

  Now that I have 'filled in around the edges' I am almost ready to start filling in the regional map. But first! I will need to drill down and add more detail to races.

  That is for next time.

Lies, Mistakes, False Confidence and Your Campaign

  I hope you will forgive me if I get a bit wonky.
  Thanks in advance.
  Many years ago I spent an entire Summer studying demographics (some details here as to why a 10 year old would do that) and concluded that I would reject what was being written about by lepidopterists, science fiction writers, and others about overpopulation and, rather, agree with actual demographers, all of whom insisted overpopulation wasn't a problem then and wouldn't be for a long, long time. The doomsayers of overpopulation stated 1970 was far too late to prevent hundreds of millions of people from starving to death in the 1970's and that nothing could prevent famine from wiping out England by 1980.
  Turns out the demographers were correct and the popular voices were wrong.
  Now several major nations are grappling with rapid underpopulation and the contraction of world population should begin within my own lifetime.

  During Desert Shield I encountered a group of journalists, the leader of whom was very excited. Why? He  had a big scoop - he said he had caught the army lying. You see, the army had said the PATRIOT missile system was operating at more than 90% success but he had proof - proof! - that less than 1 in 4 launched missiles was even reaching the target; the rest were blown up in mid air remotely!
  I said,
   "Of course, that is how the system works, but it doesn't change the success rate."
  You see, when a potential target is spotted 1/2 of all available launchers fire an intercept missile. Why? Safety! There isn't enough time to launch one at a time, so you launch multiples in case the first or even more miss, and then remotely destroy any that aren't needed.
  I spent the next two hours fruitlessly trying to explain the critical difference between 'individual element accuracy' and 'system success rate'. He ignored me, broke his "scandal", and made headlines.
  To this day I know people who know the army lied about the success of the Patriots because of that journalist.

  This phenomena where someone who is incompetent at something but believes they are competent at it, even has a name - the Dunning-Kruger Effect. This state, in very simplified terms, that people who are unskilled in a certain task tend to honestly believe they are very skillful, even masters, of the task while people who are very skillful at the same task tend to rate themselves as mediocre.

  "Wait a minute, Rick," you say, "I've heard of the Dunning-Kruger Effect, sure. But I know/googled/looked up/etc. overpopulation and the Patriot missile system and, well, they are terrible examples because overpopulation is a huge issue/the Patriots don't work!"

  Actually, we're just getting to the point of this post, so thanks for chiming in.

  Because this post is about misinformation in your campaign.

  In my campaigns there are things everyone knows to be true that aren't and things everyone know to be false that aren't. And you might need to consult a sage to find this out.
  Here is an example from Seaward:
  Maury looked grim, "My divinations and research have explained the strange things that Sessy saw and heard; the new master of thieves is a rakshasa."
  "A rakshasa!", exclaimed Sessy, "this is foul news indeed."
  "What is a rock-shasta and if it bleeds, why do I care?" asked Eirik.
  "Rakshasa," corrected Maury, "a magical creature from a far land. Virtually immune to magic and proof against all but the mightiest enchanted weapons it cloaks itself in a nigh-perfect illusion of being a person or creature you trust and then destroys you when you are unwary. They are cunning and powerful."
  "But not invincible," added Brother Reynaud, "I recall hearing from another cleric that the merest scratch from a crossbow bolt that has been Blessed can slay them."
  "I had heard this rumor, as well, " agreed Maury, "and my research in the Imperial Library confirms it. We shall confront the evil with Eirik and his henchmen armed alike with a score of Blessed  bolts!"
  [2 weeks later]
  The series of ambushes and traps from the thieves had been bad enough, but the two doppleganger servants of the rakshasa had been even worse. The adventurers were all bleeding from various injuries and Sessy was on her way back to the surface with half the surviving henchmen guiding her; the poison-induced blindness should wear off in a few days.
  With surprising ease they made it to the Master's Room. The interior was well lit and empty except for a figure lounging on the gem-encrusted throne in in the far wall. The figure looked like a tall, powerfully-built man with the head of a tiger. The rakshasa put down his hookah pipe and smoothed his silk robe as he stood, revealing that his thumbs were on the 'wrong' sides and that his fingers curled backward, not inward.
  Brother Reynaud called out, "Prepare for your death, foul one! Your doom is here!"
  It took a moment for the adventurers to realize the rumbling growl was a chuckle.
  "Fools," growled the creature, "my minions and traps have done naught but prove you cannot harm me."
  The rakshasa strode toward them, it whiskers twitching.
  "Fire, men, fire!" called Eirik as his 3 surviving henchman joined him in launching crossbow bolts. Two struck true with Eirik's own quivering in the beast's throat. Soundlessly the rakshasa slipped to the ground. 
  Eirik leapt forward with a shout of triumph. But as he prepared to collect the thing's head it leapt up, snarling. After a swift exchange of blows Eirik drew back, bleeding from half a dozen new wounds. The rakshasa paused to pluck the bolts from its hide, the wounds sealing up instantly. He briefly sniffed one of the bolts before tossing it aside.
  "Run," hissed Eirik, "run for the surface. If I live I will rejoin you."

  As players in my Seaward game now know, very well, rakshasa are not harmed by crossbow bolts that have been Blessed. Crossbow bolts that have been Consecrated, however, are instant death to the horrible creatures.

  Yes, my players were horrified. Yes, at least one was indignant ('but the Monster Manual says!'). But why not? After all, plenty if people think that 15th century Europeans thought the world was flat. They didn't. Indeed, the main opposition to Columbus was because the majority of scholars agreed on  the circumference of the earth and expected him to run out of supplies before he reached land. Columbus was wrong about the Earth's circumference (the scholars were really close, actually), there was just a landmass or two that were not as well known in the way. But not only is this belief ['15th Century Europeans thought the world was flat'] common it can be found in school textbooks and even books in college reference libraries.

  So add some facts to your campaign and make some of them fun, interesting, and true ['adding a drop of red dragon blood to the components of a Fireball makes it hotter' and give a +1 per die if they do this; 'the ichor of a slithering tracker makes you immune to a gelatinous cube's paralysis for an hour', etc.] make some of them them fun and false ['adding a drop of blue dragon blood to the components of a Lightning Bolt makes it more powerful' when it doesn't; 'if you tie the death shroud of a murderer across your face as a mask ghast stink doesn't affect you' but this doesn't work, etc.]. Also have things that 'everyone knows' be false [like the rakshasa] and that everyone disbelieves be true [for example, only superstitious peasants nail brass keys to the lintel of their door frames with a single iron nail - educated and sophisticated people sneer at this superstition.
  But what if it does prevent intelligent undead from entering the home? Maybe it only works for actual family homes with a relatively small total square footage, or an average value or less, or some other limitation that means it doesn't work on castles, or wizard's towers, or churches, or the town homes of rich merchants but it does work. That isn't going to break anything, skew the campaign, or help players with their lordly manors, but it might be an interesting plot point and, is handled right, can really mess with the players.
 
  You can do this with NPCs, too. Everyone, but everyone, knows that Kregar the Shining is the best swordsman in the West. He has been challenged on a number of occasions by renowned swordsmen but has always prevailed. People come from distant lands to train under him but he selects just one man every two or three years. These men go on to state with great pride they were trained by Kregar and laud his mastery far and wide.
  He is beloved in the city, too. He tips well, is generous to friends, gives freely to the poor, and has been known to help out young, down on their luck adventurers from time to time with cash and introductions. He is charming, friendly, and soft-spoken.
  In reality he is a 5th level fighter with a 16 Dexterity who is specialized in the broad sword and has a magical sword that means he always strikes first (although he has no idea it is magical). So he is pretty good, but not that good. However, he is truly convinced in his heart that he is the best swordsman in the world.
  In addition to the personality traits listed above he is also prone to 'humble-bragging' such as;
  'I hope you do not mind having dinner with me. If I am busy when the general comes perhaps he will stop pestering me to train the king's guard'
  'I grow so weary of famous swordsmen coming just to challenge me to a duel. It disrupts my training so much.'
  'Perhaps you will accept this as a gift? it was sent by a master swordsmith from a far land, but the humble blade I found years ago has been more than enough for me to win every duel.'
  etc.

  This can go the other way, too. Just think of Aragorn in LotR  - heir to the kingship of all Men of the West and dedicated to protecting the frontier from evil the locals called him 'Strider' and though he was a disreputable sort, going so far as to warn travelers not to associate with him.

  And remember, none of this has to be purposeful or malicious. These could all be no more than honest mistakes!

  But why do we do this? A few reasons.
  First, it cuts down on meta-gaming. Players that have memorized the books will have less of an 'advantage' in these situations.
  Second, it reflects Real Life at least a little. We all are subject to this sort of mistaken confidence and false knowledge, so why not your characters, too?
  Third, it makes your world unique. This is a simple way to differentiate your campaign world from anything else.
  Fourth, it makes in-character research and divinations more valuable. Access to good libraries, the casting of expensive divinations, and travel to distant sages suddenly are all worth it.
  And last, it adds to the sense of wonder that makes the game more fun.

 

Role Playing, Roll Playing, and Can We Just Get Back to Monsters, Please?

  There is a debate going on about what is a 'real  role playing game and what isn't; whether light mechanics is better ot if crunchy is better; if narrative and story trump spontaneity; and about how important the Gm is and how much power he has or if you even need a GM. Or dice. Or rules.
  No, don't go look. This stuff was a hot topic in 1979, 1982, 1985, etc. and still will be next week, next month, and long after I am dead, may that day be far from me.
  Want to know my position? I have two of them, really.
  1) If you think it is role playing and enjoy it I won't say you're wrong, but I reserve the right to ignore you.
  2) If you think what other people are doing isn't role playing you have the right to ignore them but if you say they're wrong you deserve the arguments you get.

  There are tons of definitions of role playing game out there. I throw some of them around from time to time (my personal one is 'people play at being fake people and have fun') but the very idea of a role playing game is so broad....

  Indeed, let's talk about that for a minute. I have played in groups where people showed up in costume and spoke in character before, during, and after the game. The entire "I am in character until I record the DVD commentary" approach. And I've played in groups where the table talk was 'Frank's fighter will smash in the door and my thief will look for ambushes'.

  Both fun.

  And that huge range in between is the D&D sweet spot! You know what I mean - you refer to characters in the third person by name, the DM is in character for some, but not all, NPCs, and you speak 'in character' only at key junctures. Most of the campaigns I see are like that and you know what? It is role playing.
  Let me give you an example from my table.

  My oldest son, J., is a, well, a firebrand. He is tall, broad-shouldered, and looks like an Aryan poster child (blond hair, blue eyes, strong jaw, etc.). He has a strong voice, a hearty laugh, and a quick smile. He is a natural leader, loves meeting people, and is very charming and outgoing.
  My next oldest, A., is very similar in some ways, but not in others. He is younger so isn't as tall and broad, yet. He has black hair, hazel eyes, and a quiet demeanor with a sort of calm poise that makes even strangers very comfortable around him.  He is the master of the quiet quip and perfectly timed humorous pause. Where J. is bold and a touch reckless A. is more likely to be prepared for anything. Where people come to J. for a laugh they come to A. for advice.

  Now, in Blackstone I J. plays Mournglow, a magic-user, and A. plays Doomsman, a conan-esque barbarian swordmaster.

  At my table they very rarely speak in character but let me show you how a single event proved they were taking on the role ('role playing') of their character.

  A scouting party from an orcish army had established a hasty timber fortification on the near bank of a river ford in preparation for the arrival of the main body of troops. The party realized they had to either capture or destroy the small fort if they hoped to stop the army.
  J. announced that Mournglow had a plan - the party would slip forward through the chest-high grass until they were within 60 yards of the closest orcish guards then use coordinated spells and missiles to kill as many orcs as possible as quickly as possible, hoping the shock would cause them to flee. Doomsman would protect the casters and archer (a thief) by staying close.
  Pretty soon the party is on hands and knees, creeping through the grass. after about 5 rounds of this A. says,
  "Nah. Doomsman stands up, unsheathes his great sword, and runs towards the orcs."



  The orcs see him almost immediately and start firing bows at him. The rest of the party keeps hurrying along on hands and knees.But the orcs underestimate one man and Doomsman gets to the entrance to the fort and keeps the orcs from shutting the gate long enough for the party to arrive and wipe out the terrified survivors.

  But the take away is - my brash son came up with a cautious plan because his character, Mournglow, is cautious. My cautious son acted in a brash manner because his character, Doomsman, is brash.
  Did they speak with a faux accent?
  No.
  Did they speak in character?
  No.
  Did they spend 20 minutes discussing backstory, fake emotions, or 'off-screen' NPCs?
  No.
  Were their words and actions important to overarching plots, the narrative, etc?
  No.
  Were they role playing?
  Yes.
  Were they having fun?
  Hell, yeah.

  So, if you want to know my position on role playing, there it is.

How I Made NPCs Work For My Campaign

  In the previous week or so I have spoken about the the background guys with levels; not the guys you specifically place as a game master; not the followers of high-level characters; none of the important NPCs but the 'other NPCs'. I talked about my theories as to their frequency, level, impact on the military, impact on economics, and impact on magic in your campaign.

  I worked out a great deal of these numbers many years ago when I was trying to take my primary campaign to new levels of depth. All of the numbers seemed supported by what the PHB and DMG both said and implied. While obviously critical and impactful they still left all the heavy lifting up to me. It made perfectly good sense to me that the unsung, unspecified NPCs would be important without being critical.

  And I didn't like it. Let me explain why by describing what I like in my campaigns.

  I personally think AD&D starts to break down above, oh, 8th-10th level. You can absolutely play above those levels but the margin of error gets smaller - the difference between the party strolling through unchallenged and a TPK gets more and more narrow each level past 8th, in my opinion. Sure, you can switch over to politics and intrigue, but this can be done 'away from the table' and the table can be reserved for lower-level play. This is why I like jazz band adventuring; you can keep it mixed up.

  For these reasons I prefer game play to mainly be below 9th level.

  I also strive to make magic special; some spells are hard or impossible to find, permanent magic items are far from common, and high-level casters are a Big Deal. But low level players with no magic items and very limited spells feel, well, cheated or slighted. A +1 sword is a big treasure to a 2nd level party and making limits too low can make the players feel unappreciated. This seems like a great fit for the 'other NPC' numbers where potions and scrolls are going to be relatively common but a sharp drop-off in quantity as power goes up. By placing the NPCs capable of making big items myself I can fine tune these levels the way I like.

  Unfortunately, it negatively impacts my desire to have an active Good church as a unifying force that knits demi-humans together, especially humans, and help shield fragile humanity from the horrors from beyond the walls of reality that threaten them at every turn. After all, there are a ton of clerics and magic-users among gnomes, elves, etc. and humanoids likewise have a high number of shamans, witch-doctors, etc. I wanted a similar role in human kingdoms which meant that I needed a lot more clerics. 

  And while I want magic to be special I was struck by the idea that the vast majority of humanity would never encounter any kind of spell caster, especially arcane casters. Yes, I like and want 5th+ level magic-users to be impressive, but I also looked at European folktales that often depicted a minor wise woman or hedge wizard common enough that in an emergency a peasant could track one down.  So I needed a lot more magic-users, too.

  In other words, I wanted many more leveled NPCs without it increasing the amount of magic items in the campaign and without it making PCs less special.

  One of the first things I tried was to greatly increase the number of 1st level NPCs and then have them 'drop off' faster. While I had originally used the 'adjust for location' entry in the DMG to mean that leveled NPCs naturally congregated in the places PCs look for them and, thus, were actually only 1 in 1,000 what if I just take the initial entry at face value and have 1 in 100? Suddenly the number of leveled NPCs shot up tenfold to 7,800! If we use the assumption that 50% are 1st level, 25% 2nd, etc., this would mean over 650 1st level magic-users and about the same number of 1st level clerics.

  That would certainly give me the larger numbers of low level clerics and magic-users!

  Unfortunately, it also means that there will be about 50 clerics and magic-users capable of making scrolls and potions! There will also be more clerics that can Raise Dead, more wizards that can cast Fireball, etc. While I get the low-level numbers I want this solution really wipes out the PCs as special - they won't stand out as special until, oh, 13th-15th level. 

  It would also give me a population of about 2,500 1st level fighters. That is a huge difference and, if they are employed, begs the question of 'why isn't the entire standing army made up of only 3rd level fighters?'. You also end up with enough higher level spell casters to have an 8th or 9th level magic-user AND cleric in every large town and a caster capable of making permanent items in every city. The massive 8.2 million person empire would be guaranteed to have an archmage, a high priest, and a handful of guys of even higher level, meaning that the world would have plenty of people capable of casting Wish every day.

  When I first did that math I thought,

  'From the little I know, that looks like Forgotten Realms.'

  

  So what if we assume 50% are 1st level, 30% are 2nd, 15% are 3rd, and then the rest are spread out between 4th and 7th?

  The big problems (thousands of fighters, too many spell casters) remain even though the PCs certainly do stand out much faster! While avoiding the 'there are plenty of guys making magic items' problem it makes the 'why isn't the army just all 3rd level?' a bit worse, actually. And we haven't even spoken of things like, oh, 343 paladins

  What is to be done, if anything?

  What I eventually did was to create a 'third way' of getting what I wanted.

  

  What I did was - make some NPC-only classes. I certainly wasn't the first to do this but I don't personally know of anyone else who made NPC-only classes to solve these particular problems. 

  I approached the NPC classes from my needs and desires for the campaign. These included a desire to both increase the number of low-powered spell casters and avoid increasing the number of high-level spell casters, the number of magic-items/those who can make magic items, and all without reducing the impact of the PCs. 

  I also wanted to add in something between 'untrained peasant levy' and '1st level fighter'. I was always struck by the huge differences between 'some guy' and 'professional warrior' and the only thing in-between (mercenaries) look like 'some guy in armor'.

  Lastly, I wanted to represent bandits, brigands, thugs, rakes, etc. as (like with fighters) more than 'some guy in leather armor'.

  The NPC classes I made are;

  Men-at-Arms ( in-between 0-level peasants and 1st level fighters) - maximum of 12th level or so

  Religious Brothers or Sisters (the monks, nuns, parish priests, etc. that are religious without being clerics) - maximum level of 14th or so

  Hedge Wizards (the local spell casters who can cast a few small spells but might not even be literate)

  Scoundrels (tougher than a peasant, not as tough as a man-at-arms, often just dumb muscle)

  

  These classes have limited spell power, combat power, etc. so that while tougher than a peasant they do not compare with player character classes. 

  But what frequency should they have from the general population? And how would that affect the number of NPCs with levels in 'PC classes' like paladin?

  I figured this out by starting with one assumption and a particular goal.

  The assumption is that of all NPCs with NPC classes 40% would be men-at-arms, 30% religious brothers, 20% hedge wizards, and 10% scoundrels.

  The goal was to have enough religious brothers that about 80% of all villages would have a 1st, 2nd, or 3rd level religious brother as a parish priest. I wanted this to reflect a vaguely Southern France in the 1200's feel to the Church of the campaign.

  Since there are about 1,250 villages in Seaward that means I need about 1,000 religious brothers from 1st through 3rd level. Those would represent 87.5% of all religious brothers who, themselves, were 30% of all NPCs with NPC classes in the kingdom. Therefore, 1 in 200 NPCs will have NPC classes.

  Trust me.

  This means that there are;

  1,560 men-at-arms

  1,170 religious brothers

  780 hedge wizards

  390 scoundrels

  This gives us about 1,020-1,025 religious brothers of 1st, 2nd, or 3rd level, exactly my goal. 

  Now, men-at-arms are no competition with full-fledged fighters, but if you look at the numbers with the 'standard assumptions' that means there is a single 11th level man-at-arms in the kingdom.  What impact does this have? well, going through the entire 'let's roll x number of followers' is still perfectly valid, but what if, oh, 50% of these men-at-arms are the standing army? 700 or so 1st level men-at-arms with a few sergeants, lieutenants, etc., most of whom are also men-at-arms and then the rest can fill in all of those positions as bodyguards, caravan guards, etc. This can suddenly fill in a fair number of the gaps we had earlier. Now these roles aren't 'peasants with armor' without being 'a 1st level fighter watching a toll road'.

  Religious brothers are parish priests, deacons, religious monks, nuns, etc. and are not fighters nor even healers until higher level. They will be doing their jobs, tending to the spiritual and personal needs of the common man throughout the kingdom. Ever wonder why clerics aren't giving sermons, converting pagans, or holding Mass? Well, it isn't their role, that is what religious brothers do. Clerics are, instead, much more like the fighting monks they are meant to be.

  Hedge wizards are not the powerhouses of illusionists or magic-users, but they can make little trinkets and cast small spells. Even if the higher-level hedge wizards (and some low level ones!) all head to the towns and cities there are enough 'left over' to put one in about every other village, each making a living from small magic and good will, none ever able to cast Fireball or Conjure Elemental. 

  The scoundrels will be guarding illegal casinos, manning smuggler's boats, etc. relying upon their few meager hit points to earn a living.

  In short, despite their higher numbers their reduced power does not overshadow the PCS or make magic items more common. Heck, they even answer a fair few questions from earlier work. The NPC classes made the background of my campaign much more coherent.

  But what about NPCs with levels in PC classes? Do they 'go away'? Well, no - of course not. They just became much rarer. I used another assumption - NPCs with levels in PC classes should be at least 1/10th as common so I just made them 1 in every 2,500 NPCs. This gives us;

  NPCs with levels in PC classes (1st level)

  Fighters - 55

  Clerics - 27

  Magic-users - 26

  Thieves - 20

  Rangers - 7

  Paladins - 6

  Druids - 5

  Illusionists - 5

  Assassins - 4

  Monks - 3

  NPCs with levels in PC classes (5th)

  Fighters - 7

  Clerics - 4

  Magic-users - 3

  Thieves - 2

  Ranger - 1

  Paladin - 1

  An illusionist or an assassin or a monk

   The highest level NPC with PC classes you are going to see is going to be, oh, 9th level (and probably a fighter).

  If you compare these lists to the ones I did with the initial assumptions the differences are - interesting. Overall the impact is that low level parties are just a touch less unusual but PCs become distinctive and powerful at 4th and 5th level, not 7th+.  By introducing these four NPC-only classes I was able to create a campaign world where the average peasant knows someone who can cast (minor) spells - a local parish priest, or a hedge wizard - while powerful spells are more rare.

  If you look at the discussion of standing armies there are more fun surprises - the standing forces become marginally tougher at the level of the individual soldier (and make human armies more on-par with humanoid forces in general) while making name-level fighters more rare. 

  Lastly, as DM I still have total control over the level and location of any NPC capable of making magic items. With these simple guidelines I can easily expand my campaign with just a handful of tools and be confident that it will not impact the power level or feel of my world.

NPCs and the Magic Level of a Campaign.

  My series on NPCs in 1e/OSR campaigns began with a discussion of 'the other guys'; NPCs who aren't placed by the DM, rolled up as followers or members of a guild, or part of a random encounter. The NPCs implied to be part of everyday life by the various PHB and DMG entries on henchman, etc.
  It continued by examining the potential size of standing armies and such, which is mainly fighter followers.
  Then I went on to discuss how these various NPCs could impact the economy.
  While I mention followers, and leaders, and kings, and such my focus is really still on the 'other NPCs' because their existence, numbers, and levels mean a lot to how your world looks and works. Yeah, I know, it may seem a bit odd to focus so much energy on the elements of a campaign that are designed as background, but the wallpaper on your computer screen is important, too. Consider these articles a 'jumping off point' for a discussion.

  This time, let's talk about what these leveled NPCs say about magic and magic item sin the campaign.

  As we saw earlier if you follow the general numbers we can assume from the entries on henchmen in the DMG you will generally not have very many NPCs above 3rd level and very few of 7th level or above. Indeed, in the sample kingdom of about three-quarters of a million humans there is about a 17% chance of having a single 10th level magic-user. Expanding the math a bit you need a population greater than about 2 million to have a 17% chance of a 12th level magic-user and if you want to make sure you have at least one mage like that 'floating around' then the base population needs to be, oh, 8.2 million+.
  What this implies is that there are not a lot of guys making magic items in the hinterlands. Large empires are the source of all those wands and holy avengers. Where a lot of adventures take place, the edge of civilization, isn't where these things are manufactured.
  So why is it where they are found?
  The very excellent blog The Hill Cantons (which you should be reading) describes this better than I can here and here. Essentially, a lot of the assumptions behind Greyhawk (and thus the original rules) are very Dying Earth/post-apocalyptic/lost glory based. While there are powerful people roaming around the world is full of the ruins of past glory beyond the ken of current dreamers....

  The magical worldview that flows from the '1 in 1,000 NPCs has levels' assumption is that spell casters are rare and magic items are rarer. The vast majority of rural NPCs will never have met a magic-user of any level and there are probably less than 3 people in the kingdom that can cast Fireball or Lightning Bolt. This seems to mean that having a spell cast for you will probably be expensive if you can find someone who can cast it. After all, there are probably just a dozen mages who know Identify in the entire realm; half of them are above 1st level and will charge more since the spell is more accurate when cast by higher level magic-users.
  It also means that the only clerics of high enough level to Resurrect (if any) will be specifically placed by the DM, limiting who can be raised as well as where and why. Magical cures will be far from common; only 6 clerics are high enough level to cast Cure Disease which means that even with the help of the 30 or so paladins plague can still easily sweep the land. Lay doctors and barber-surgeons will certainly be needed since there is only 1 leveled cleric per 9 villages.

  On the one hand, I find this fairly refreshing, actually, because while the assumptions and implications may be about faded glories, this also means that the DM can determine exactly how common magic items are. How? well, the 'other NPCs' aren't going to have a lot to do with this; only NPCs specifically placed by the DM will be in the magic item creation business. There are just enough 7th-9th level magic-users and clerics around to justify potions and scrolls without an on-universe explanation for why +2 daggers aren't for sale from street carts (unless, of course, you want that). You can still use the threat of plague and famine as a strategic plot device, 0-level mooks are still a credible threat, etc.
  On the other it really demands that the DM actively explain where magic items come from, why they are where they are, and maybe even why they were made. A strong argument could be made that hiring a spell caster would be hideously expensive and spell components might be, as well. And the party might be hard-pressed to convince the only cleric in 1,000 miles capable of casting Raise Dead that their companion deserves the spell being cast on him.

  Further, this sort of 'density of characters with levels' puts the player characters into an interesting position - until about, oh, 5th level they will sort of 'blend in'; there are a fair number of NPCs in that range. From 5th, though, they really start to stand out and probably start to become famous and become a Big Deal at 7th+. Name level? They are now in a class of their own. All this fits smoothly into the idea that PCs are exceptional in how far they can go. There may be 150 magic-users in the kingdom, but the PC will rise to heights the others can only dream of.

  Suddenly we can understand why PCs aren't unusual enough to be remarkable at 1st level but special enough at 9th to attract loyal followers. And while useful this analysis doesn't solve any of the real problems a DM faces in his campaign - the who, what, why, etc. of magic item creation, for example.

  Next time I will discuss how to change these numbers to change the campaign.

Campaign Tone - What is the Morality of your World?

  Part II in a series of articles on campaign tone, the first can be found here.
  Where the first was about what I call the tenor of a campaign, this one is about the morality. If 'tenor' is 'the emotional foundation' then 'morality' is the 'moral foundation'. In short, the overall morality of your campaign world has an effect similar to the tenor t by setting the boundaries of plot, conflict, character development, and overall arc.
  If your tenor is humor you will not have a lot of character development towards, oh, being a better person. Let's contrast the tenor of two films: Liar, Liar and The Firm.
  Yes, really.

The protagonist of Liar, Liar is a relatively amoral lawyer heavily focused on making money. By being forced to confront the manner in which he earns his living he grows to understand the importance of moral courage and honesty and saves his family, becoming a better man.

The protagonist of the The Firm is a relatively amoral lawyer heavily focused on making money. By being forced to confront the manner in which he earns his living he grows to understand the importance of moral courage and honesty and saves his family, becoming a better man.

  That's right, the character arc of Jim Carrey and Tom Cruise are the same. But we know very well that the actions, conflict, and depth of growth for the character Mitch McDeere was much greater than for Fletcher Reede. Why? because the tenor, or the emotional foundation, was different.
  In the film with a tenor of humor the threats facing Fletcher were having his ex-wife marry an objectively better man. losing a case where the person he was representing was scum, and not making much more than his already large salary.
  In the film with the tenor of drama Mitch faced the the murder of his wife and brother, his own death, or (at best) the loss of his livelihood and the potential of years in prison.
  At the end of his particular character arc Fletcher is vaguely back with his wife and son, won the case for his scumbag client (but felt a brief pang of remorse over it), and is making a bucket of money.
  Mitch's arc concludes with him avoiding his own death or the murder of his wife, the death or imprisonment of his co-workers, a reconciliation with and redemption of his brother, and the life-long spectre of his own death at any time.

  "Rick,"
  I hear you say,
  "The title says 'morality' and you're talking about 'tenor' again. What gives?"
  Trust me, we're getting there.

  As I just showed you the tenor of a story is important because it helps define and limit the cpacity for the DM and players to generate and maintain conflict, to motivate PCs and NPCs, and to determine and define character growth.

  Morality is much the same. In addition to helping define how GMs and players can and do emotionally interact with the setting the setting's morality defines and limits the potential conflicts, motives, and growth of characters, PCs and NPCs alike.

  Before we go on in this vein let me do my usual self-description. I have a degree in Systematic Theology and part of my day job involves business consulting on ethics, morals, and similar issues. I read about, think about, study, compare, contrast, teach, and talk about ethics and morality all the time.

  OK, now that that is out of the way.

  What is it that defines the morality of your campaign? Like I did with the tenor, let's look at the Dying Earth;

The picaresque Dying Earth is set in an Earth about to be snuffed out as the sun goes dark. The characters are morally repellent. The clearest example is probably Cugel "the Clever": he is a liar, thief, con man, swindler, rapist, coward, fool, and malingerer. Of course, the majority of his victims are likewise, only more clever than he.

    Just as the tenor of the Dying Earth is grimness, loss, and despair its morality is dark, evil, and ambiguous.
  Compare this with Barsoom of Burroughs;

John Carter is a gentleman and man of honor who would rather die than break an oath. His captor, Tars Tarkas, a savage Green Man, is likewise honorable and true to such an extent the two men of vastly different species become fast friends. Even among the First Born, a society of priates and slavers, the character Xodar, himself a man of great honor, reacted tot he virtues of John Carter and faced off against his own people to ensure that Carter, to whom Xodar owed a debt of honor, could survive and escape.

  Again, Barsoom's tenor is optimistic and positive its morality is also good, positive, and honorable.

  There are many more protagonists in both worlds than Cugel and Carter; a number of other viewpoint protagonists exist in both worlds. The fascinating thing is that in the Dying Earth there is very little character development compared to Barsoom. Some of the later novels set in Barsoom are effectively roman a clef tales.
  Yes, some of this is unavoidable; as I said, the Dying Earth stories are essentially satires while the Barsoom tales are largely drama (and the origins of Planetary Romance, might I add). But please consider this - Vance, a skilled author, picked a grim tone and moral ambiguity specifically to prevent his characters from developing very much. Burroughs, also a skilled writer*, picked an optimistic tone and moral clarity because his goal was character development.

  Just as tone can really impact how others see your campaign world, so can morality.

  One of the campaigns I played in longest was Lew Pulsipher's Tonilda campaign, set in a unique world of his own make. Tonilda is a remote frontier city far from any other real civilization. It is physically isolated and threatened almost constantly by foes. The local political leader, the baron, vanished inside his keep over a decade ago and the collapse of authroity left the Bishop in charge of the eastern portion of the city, an evil cult in possession of the western portion and a 'neutral' area in between rife with everything from spies to street fighting between factions. Several days tot he north was the keep of J.C., a retired cleric adventurer and the lst safe spot for anyone to travel.
  The tenor of the campaign was one of isolated struggle; the morality was clear - the Bishop and his forces were good, the cultists were evil.\

Another campaign  I played in was Jim henson's (no, not that one!) Iron Mercenaries campaign using Palladium FRPG rules and set in the official Palladium world. The players were a loose band of amoral mercenaries whose goal was the amass as much money as possible. Our employers were often treacherous and far worse than any villains we faced. The tenor was a dark one of collapsed empires and rising evil, the morality grey on grey. 

  These two  campaigns were radically different in tenor and in morality while ostensibly both being about bands of brash adventurers teaming up to creep through dungeons.

  So how do you build a campaign morality? I think there are four elements to doing this on purpose:
    1) Are there NPCs who are good and trustworthy? Evil and devious? Is every 'good' bishop really greedy, corrupt, or stupid? Is every noble an avaricious scumbag? is every wizard a necromancer wannabe?
    2) When the GM puts moral choices before the PCs are they always murky or unclear? To save the princess must they always sacrifice a village to the dragon? Must they kill the orc children to clear the dungeon every time? Are they never sure that their mentors/employers have good ends?
    3) Much like with tenor, are 'day-to-day' NPCs, like barmaids, trustworthy or not? Is every lovely girl flirting with a PC really a prostitute? Is every linkboy a spy? every beggar a thief? etc.
    4) Do characters have the ability to have a character development arc based upon morality, good or bad?

  Talk with your players and visitors - is the morality of your world clear, ambiguous, of indeterminate? Do the players feel like they can make moral and ethical choices in a way that matters?






  *Yes, ERB was a skilled writer. He wrote in a variety of genres, including non-fiction and journalism, and sold 60 million books in his own lifetime, at least that many since. He experimented with a number of styles and was the most-read writer in English of the first half of the 20th Century.

Why Encumbrance Matters To Me

  This past week I did a routine audit of character sheets and found that most of the players were ignoring encumbrance, so I directed them to clean up their sheets, get their encumbrance correct, or else I would just assign encumbrance levels until they did.
  My oldest son, a stalwart and a hard worker, lamented how difficult it is and how much time and attention it takes.
  Likewise, this very morning I read an RPG blogger talking about how they really, really dislike encumbrance rules.

  I was a tactical soldier in an airborne unit based in Ft. Bragg for 6 years. I I have done hundreds of miles in ruck marches and was in land navigation competitions [think orienteering in rugged terrain with 80-100 lbs of equipment]. I became so adept at fitting necessary gear into tight space my kids say I have the Clever packer skill at 93%.

  I know encumbrance.

  I also know that it matters. Carrying too much weight slows you down. Carrying big, bulky objects slows you down. Travelling becomes much harder when you are carrying a heavy load. Horses are not motorcycles - too much weight slows them down and can hurt them, etc.

  At the same time, there are serious reasons that soldier carry so much weight - you need things! Food, water, bandages, blankets, light sources, arrows, sling bullets, tools, components, rope - all could be very important. I am far from the first guy to point out that a core element of games, both modern and old school D&D in particular, is resource management. If you just handwave components then magic-users and clerics get easier and more powerful; if you handwave food and water you reduce or eliminate time limits of travel and exploration; if you handwave equipment you reduce or eliminate the use of all sorts of barriers, tricks, and delays.
  Ignoring things like, oh, how many torches you need also makes a lot of spells useless. If the cleric never needs to consider a Light, or Create Food and Water, or the wizard never needs to think of Floating Disc or Tiny Hut why do those spells exist? What are they for? And this is yet another way you make your spell casters more powerful in combat - the cleric can take all healing and combat spells, the mage can take all combat spells because, well, they don't eat, sleep, or get cold and can always see.
  If you do make them account for everything you can add a lot of tension to the game very simply.
  Example: Krellor was worried; somehow the map was wrong. He knew it was wrong for one simple reason - they couldn't get out. He had originally been angry with Mellie, the young cleric. he was really glad he hadn't said anything, though; after 2 days of following the left wall they not only hadn't found the way out they had taken at least 3 different routes. Somewhere in the maze of rooms and corridors was a trick wall, door, or corridor that kept moving on them.
  Kurrie, the scout, had lost his grin and was looking downright scared. Alazaar, the mage, was starting to slow down and even the shaven-headed monk Xing was obviously suffering. They had been without food for 3 days, now, and the brackish water from the puddle was almost gone, too. If they didn't find the way out soon they might die of thirst in these twisting halls. Krellor had relented this 'morning' and they group was alternting left and right in hopes of avoiding whatever deviltry was trapping them here.
  Perhaps as troubling as the lack of food and paucity of water, they were down to just 3 inches of candle in Mellie's lantern - the feeble light barely allowed them to creep through the halls. Once it went out they would be almost totally blind - and as good as dead.
  Kellor habitually checked his weapons belt as he prepared to round a corner. As he paused he heard a noise from the corridor; with a gesture Mellie closed the shutter on the lantern. The lost adventurers waited as a glow appeared from around the corner and the sound of orc voices grew.
  When the orcs rounded the corner Kurrie, Xing, and Krellor fell on them ferociously and with total surprise. The slaughter was over in moments and Kurrie began rifling through their gear.
  Three flasks of oil was good. An entire smoked ham and a sack of dried cherries was better. The full waterskins on all 6 of the dead orcs was best. Kurrie habitually grabbed the few coins these low-level guard had on them as the party carefully ate and drank a little. Too much at once would make them sick. After 20 minutes of rest interspersed with a few small bites and spare sips Mellie refilled and lit her lantern before tucking the candle stub away.
  Maybe their luck had changed. Maybe they would get out. At least they had another day or two to try.
  That was from an actual adventure I ran that the players still talk about much later.

  Keeping track of this stuff, while time consuming, can be both a source of game tension AND a tool for character development.
  Example: As beautiful as the sight of the first rays of the sun sparkling off the snow-capped mountains was, Aurelius missed the abbey. The warm bed, the food, the wine. But most of all, the library. All that knowledge, all that wisdom. He liked nothing more than to immerse himself in the rows of books until he was too exhausted to read another page.
  But as a prefect he had certain responsibilities. The bishop had asked him to join the paladin Tamarind and his companions in a quest to end the attacks on the western villages. Aurelius had smiled, agreed, and inwardly bemoaned whatever streak of madness had compelled him to travel with Tamarind when both of them were newly ordained. Aurelius' reputation as an 'adventurer' may have earned him a swift promotion or three, but it also kept him from his beloved books.
  There was Tamarind, now, riding alongside the trail, checking on all of his companions. A good man, Tamarind, truthful, brave, and honorable. He saw Tamarind pull up next to Aurelius' acolyte, Willit.
  "How fare you, young Willit?"
  "Very good, Sir Tamarind."
  "Excited?"
  "Oh, yes, sir! When we return I am to be tonsured as an adept!"
  "Keep it up, and soon I shall be reporting to you!"
  "Oh, no Sir Tamarind! A knight like yourself reporting to someone like me?"
  "A knight, but yet a paladin who must answer to the priests, isn't that right Father Timms?"
  Aurelius' other assistant, riding nearby, chuckled and said,
  "Mayhaps I have the authority, but the temerity? That I do not have!"
  At Noon Aurelius' two assistants supervised his servants as they set up a field table for Aurelius, Tamarind, and the companions to eat their meal. Others set up a blanket on the grass nearby for the servants' meal. The companions were all good company: Orion, the famous wizard from the West; the dwarven warrior called only the Smiter; the lovely halfling maiden and scout Mellificent; Fandor, the ranger from the Great Wood; Tamarind; and Aurelius. After their quick meal of cold meats, cheese, and small beer the servants quickly loaded the gear back onto Aurelius' cart, mounted their own mules, and they resumed.
  At evening the servants erected Aurelius' pavilion and prepared a meal. As the companions dined the servants gathered wood, built another fire, erected Aurelius' sleeping tent, and prepared their own shelters and meal.
  An hour before dawn Aurelius said the travelling Mass with Father Timms and Brother Willit assisting. Afterwards the servants quickly struck camp and prepared everything for the road.

  Tamarind and Aurelius are both characters from campaigns I have played in. Tamarind is a typical paladin; water and thin gruel for breakfast, lunch is a meal in the saddle, dinner might be a sapare hot soup and some hardtack. He has a prudent amount of gear but otherwise the Lord will provide.
  Aurelius has 2 henchmen, a valet, 5 teamsters, 2 porters, a linkboy, a cook, 3 grooms, and 7 light cavalrymen as hirelings. His people all travel on horse or mules or in the cart he brings along in addition to his pack horse. He carries tents, a pavilion, field tables and chairs, silverware and place settings, tools, rope, spare clothes, manacles (in various sizes) blank books, vials, jars, and boxes for samples, etc., etc., etc. All in addition to a mix of fresh and preserved food, water, wine, and brandy.
  His henchmen and hirelings typically build and guard a camp for the extra equipment with the servants making things ready for the party's return. On at least one adventure one of the henchmen led 2 guards and a teamster back to town with a wagon to completely replenish supplies while the adventurers were still underground.

  Sure, these are extreme examples, but show that if you want to use encumbrance it can be a lot more than just book keeping on a character sheet.

Campaign Tone - What is the Tenor of your World?

  This is the first in a series of posts I plan to make about campaign tone.

  In the far too many years I have been playing RPGs and such I have encountered a ton of campaigns, official and (mostly) unofficial. I have made a few campaign worlds and I have talked with and even helped others build them. One thing that I have noted is that many world builders don't consciously consider the tone of their world, they sort of assume it but at the same time campaign tone is one of the first things players notice.
  Now, the overall tone of a campaign has a lot of moving parts, so I am going to focus today on something I call the tenor of a campaign. To illustrate what I mean when I say tenor, let me give you a few examples.

In Vance's Dying Earth series is a collection of fantasy stories set when the world is very, very old: the sun is darker and dying; people are few and listless; discovery is focused on finding what great minds of the past discovered and made, not new thought.Horrible secrets seem to be everywhere and most communities are focused on not being destroyed by some terrible, lurking threat.

 The tenor of the dying Earth is one of grimness, loss, and ultimately despair. The world is close to death and no one mentions it, let alone tries anything. The tenor is one of futility and loss.

In Brunner's Stand on Zanzibar is a science fiction novel set (then) 42 years in the future on an Earth choked with crippling overpopulation, rampant crime, rising insanity, never-ending brush war, and escalating terrorism. The book focuses on the intersection of greed and extremism.

  The tenor of this science fiction book is very similar to that of the dying Earth - the end is nigh, insanity and despair are everywhere, etc. So while the time, setting, etc. are very different both the Dying Earth and Stand on Zanzibar share a "tenor".

  On the other hand!

Burroughs' Barsoom novels are set on a Mars about 3 millenia past Vance's Dying Earth - Mars is all but dead and tribes of savages roam the dried seabeds of ancient, quiet Mars, camping in the vast ruins of long-abandoned cities while the last remnants of civilization cling to the few bits of air and water that remain. In the meantime, everyone is in thrall to a death cult that ultimately dooms all Martians to slavery or horrible death at the hands of their secret cannibal masters - and every year the atmosphere grows thinner.

Yet John Carter finds men and women of courage and honor throughout Barsoom. People are often reasonable, trustworthy, and open to the truth. Racism is absent and all people are judged for their virtues, not their status. 

  The tenor of Barsoom is very positive and optimistic even though it is set in a world more grim than the Dying Earth. The Conan stories are similarly set in a dark, grim world of lost civilizations, vanished knowledge, creeping savagery, and dark magic, but - it is likewise upbeat and positive in its tenor.

  I don't like to call this the tone of a campaign world because, properly speaking, tone is about the language used. Both Vance and Burroughs can be florid while both Brunner and Howard could be sparse. Theme and setting likewise don't seem exactly what I mean. Perhaps someone with more formal education in English can tell me a more precise term, but I have been using 'tenor' for so long that I might never change.

  I had a friend in high school who had a fascinating campaign world, all his own, using the Aftermath! rules. An ancient war had culminated in the world's moons colliding and death raining down upon the entire planet. The knowledge of the Ancients was lost, but some of the terror of the Sky War remained: the glowing cores of their power stations could still kill and things that lived too near became horrible mutants; a few of the weapons of their long-dead armies still existed and could kill with focused beams of light; the hybrid creatures they had made in their labs roamed the vast wilderness; the dwarves ['engineered' to be miners, whatever that meant] and the elves [also 'engineered', but to be beautiful servants for the rich] hid in the wild places. Wizards studied the secrets of the ancient 'Quan'Taam Lords' to cast spells as clerics tapped into the 'inner secrets of the Sykiks' to heal others. Bands of desperate adventurers crawled through the impact craters that speckled the land dodging mutants, the war hybrids, cannibals, cultists, and worse to enter the Ancient cities, hoping to survive the deadly ruins long enough to find enough metal to make new armor, or perhaps even Ancient tools and weapons! The night sky was lit with the debris of the three moons and the falling stars were visible day and night as they hurtled down do continue the Rain of Death.
  Here's the thing - it was a humor campaign. No, really, it was a humor campaign and it was hilarious. Think post-apocalyptic done up like Bored of the Rings. The Road Warrior as reimagined by Monty Python [as a matter of fact, there was a 'Duke Ginormous' who ruled the Desert of Black Gold -he had a thick Aussie accent and called everyone Bruce].
  So the setting was about as grim as you can get. The tone was very straightforward; the tenor was light-hearted. Yes, characters died a lot; yes, missions were often desperate schemes to prevent a village from starving to death, or worse; yes, we dealt with themes of nuclear war, terrorism, etc. And it was funny.

  Now, the tenor of the Broken Sky campaign, above, was pretty heavy-handed and was actually the point of the campaign. But in my experience in many campaigns tenor often just - happens.
  Let's look at Greyhawk for a minute. I have had people tell me they don't like Greyhawk because it is 'generic' or 'bland' or 'boring'. It is 'too lighthearted' and 'not grim' and, my favorite 'way too optimistic for real storytelling'.
  First, lighthearted and optimistic can make for great storytelling.
  Second, Greyhawk is a terrifying world obviously derived from the Dying Earth. Don't think Greyhawk is a grim, dark, scary world? Look at Salt Marsh - this ocean side town is cheek-by-jowl with demon-worshipping cults, a cult that worships evil fire, a lizard man army, a sahuagin army, smugglers, and worse things that creep from the nearby marshes (which are as large as El Salvador or Israel, BTW). Who can they call on for help?
  4-8 1st level characters, that's who.
  Not a lord, not a king, not a powerful wizard - some low-level newbies.
  Or the Grand Duchy of Geoff: a nation the size of Kuwait with the population of the city of Hastings, East Sussex, UK, they are threatened with swarms of Giants from the Crystalmist Mountains and horrors from the Barrier Peaks. In the face of attacks by large gangs of giants the Grand Duke of Geoff marshals...
  ...a group of adventurers.
  Not his armies. Not his best knights. Not his court wizard.
  Adventurers.
  In my favorite bit the Against the Giants series (which I recently ran, heavily modified, for my Blackstone campaign) begins with the Grand Duke telling the PCs that of they don't stop the giants they will return and his people will execute them! This begs the question - if the Duke's people are tough enough to capture and kill the party, why does he need the party to kill the giants?
  But gain and again in Greyhawk we see the same thing - incredible levels of danger are everywhere and local authority is either nonexistent or so weak they need bands of adventurers to step in and save them. Eldritch abominations lurk in every mountain range and swamp and just beyond the western border of the game world proper are the vast ruins of two empires utterly annihilated in a magical war so destructive that in one case it killed everything and left only a vast wasteland of dust for a thousand miles....
  And there is worse!
  There are corrupt despots in the Great Kingdom and a literal Demon King (Iuz) who physically rules an actual terrestrial nation just beyond that forest over there. There is a foul cult in every third village and urban tavern, a cabal of assassins has spies everywhere and there is probably an otyugh in your sewers. As my sons love to point out we must assume the Urban Encounters chart from the DMG applies to every large urban center in Greyhawk - this means there is a non-zero chance of meeting a Type II demon in a dark alley just because.
  Greyhawk's tenor is a grim, nasty world where good people huddle together for safety and hope that they aren't dragged from their beds, screaming, in the middle of the night to be slowly eaten by some tentacled thing from beyond the walls of reality because tomorrow they have to fight an army of giants. Again.

  But how do you build a world tenor on purpose?
  As I mentioned before, campaigns have a lot of moving parts and so does the tenor of a world. I think there are five  major elements to creating tenor.

  1) Campaign history. Is the history of the campaign pessimistic, optimistic, or neither? While I have a complete and complex world history stretching back thousands of years for both Blackstone and Seaward (my two campaign worlds) Seaward, the oldest, started with just 'the last 80 years in this little area'. There can be good and bad patches of history, but the overall trends can be important. Was there a past golden age? Are things getting better or worse? Is evil spreading or retreating over time? Think about Conan and Hyperborea - while it is set in 'the dark times after Atlantis sank' the history is positive because things are getting (very slowly) better.
  2) Current events. How bad are things? Are things different? In the Barsoom series the history is about as dark as possible (the last years of a dying planet) but the tenor of the books is positive because civilization is on the march, nations are joining together in positive alliances, and even the savage Green Men are starting to ally with the heroic nations.
  3) The attitudes of NPCs. This is huge! As I mentioned before, the overall trend of NPCs being trustworthy or untrustworthy is important to the campaign as a whole.  Is the campaign city obviously run by the thieves' guild? Are NPCs more positive than negative? Do they often cheat, steal, or betray the party? Is the bartender a cultist, the barmaid an assassin, the linkboy a were-rat, and the chambermaid a doppelganger more than once each ever? While creeping paranoia can be fun and drive adventuring, it sets a dark tenor.
  4) The events of the campaign. Probably the biggest. Are there orc raids on villages near cities? Are the authorities helpless? Is the king mad? Evil? Ineffectual? Are the borders secure? The less there are places where good people can relax and be secure, the more grim the tenor of the setting. Think of it this way - the adventurers are crossing the border into the wilderness to push back the orcs has one type of tenor; the adventurers hunting down assassins from the Realm of the Necromancer-King next door as the county prepares for invasion has another tenor entirely.
  5) Does the status quo rule? This one is pernicious because some DM's hate to change the status quo. On the one hand this can be positive - if the Necromancer-King's invasion and the loss of 1/3rd of the Count's army doesn't change much it can make the player's feel like they did a great job. On the other hand, if the players go all-out and kill the Necromancer-King only to have another guy take his place they will soon feel like their actions don't matter, which makes the tenor darker.

  So when looking at your campaign think about how the players and outsiders see it. Is the tenor positive or negative? Do the layers feel like the actions of their characters matter? Are NPCs only plot points or are they also tools to emotionally involve the players in your world? Are events in the campaign overwhelming, dark, and beyond the control of the players?


  Opinions? Feedback?