Spes Magna Games

Another column I wrote, this time for Game Geek 6:

All sorts of horrible monsters stalk the average fantasy world. Against many of these creatures, the common people have little defense. (Heck, even a irritable cat poses threat to most commoners’ lives and limbs.) How do the common folk manage to stay alive when a single mob of shadows could lay waste to the average hamlet?

Adventurers are a big help. It seems like any time a supernatural problem arises in a community, some adventuring party comes along to smite evil and take its stuff. This makes for some great plot hooks and leads into some memorable adventures, but it doesn’t really satisfy on the macro level. Adventurers aren’t supposed to be a dime a dozen. They can’t be everywhere all the time.

What to do?

Well, I could just continue to ignore the issue. After all, it’s hardly a game-breaker. RPGs have worked fine for decades without placing much emphasis on the problems of lowly commoners. The game isn’t about them. The adventurers occupy the spotlight, and rightfully so. Still, for my current Pathfinder campaign, I want to add an extra layer of verisimilitude (which is not be confused with realism). A campaign world is verisimilitudinous (yes, that’s a real word) to the extent that it encourages and assists the willing suspension of disbelief.

Thus, I sat down and answered this question: What common means of defense against supernatural monsters exist? Here’s what I came up with.

Fire

Watch just about any horror movie. Someone’s probably going to set some thing on fire in order to destroy it. Fire has a long history of use as a purifier. In the game, fire gets deployed a lot, especially against regenerating monsters and when taking out groups of foes conveniently clustered together in fireball formation. Other monsters, such as mummies, have well-known vulnerabilities to fire.

Some creatures have a lesser vulnerability to fire. Against fire-based attacks, these monsters suffer +1 point of damage per damage die. Fire-users need to take care, however. Not all lesser vulnerabilities to fire apply to mundane fire. In these cases, only magical fire causes extra damage.

Holy Symbols

What could be more iconic than the stalwart monster hunter holding a vampire at bay with a boldly presented crucifix? The game system puts this iconic image into play in a cleric’s ability to channel energy to thwart the undead. That’s all fine and dandy for clerics and other characters with the necessary class feature, but what about Farmer Brown?

Anyone can present a holy symbol associated with their faith in an attempt to hold supernatural evil at bay. Doing so is a standard action that does not provoke attacks of opportunity targeted against vulnerable creatures within a 30-foot spread who have both line of sight to the presenter and the holy symbol.

The presenter makes a Will save which is opposed by the Will saves of the affectable creatures. If an affectable creature’s Will save is less than the presenter’s Will save, then the affectable creature is dazed for 1 round. If the presenter scores a natural 20 on his Will save, all affectable creatures within range are dazed for 1 round regardless of their respective Will saves. The presenter can attempt to hold supernatural evil at bay repeatedly.

One cannot attempt this mundane use of a holy symbol while using the channel energy class feature.

Iron

Just about the only creatures in the game vulnerable to iron are the fey, and even then it only serves to get past damage reduction and is limited to the rather expensive cold iron type of iron. Again, this doesn’t seem of much use to Farmer Brown. He’s not likely to do well in a fight to begin with, and cold iron is out of his price range.

Let’s broaden our scope a bit. As any fan of Supernatural knows, iron also works quite well against incorporeal undead. Since I just adore Supernatural (as do my players), I can’t think of a single good reason not to incorporate this television element into my current campaign.

Normal iron’s properties affect the fey and the incorporeal undead differently:

Normal iron and fey: Normal iron doesn’t bypass DR, but it does harm fey creatures. A normal iron weapon enjoys a +1 bonus to damage rolls against fey. An iron implement (such as a horseshoe) that is held against a fey’s skin for one full round burns the fey creature for 1d6 points of damage.

Normal iron and incorporeal undead: Normal iron weapons (including improvised weapons) cannot inflict damage on an incorporeal undead, but they can disrupt its form. Striking an incorporeal undead with an iron weapon forces the monster to make a DC 15 Will save. If it fails, the incorporeal undead is disrupted.

While disrupted, the incorporeal undead can only take a single move action each round. It becomes invisible and cannot be harmed by weapons of any type. Magic and channeling energy can still harm a disrupted incorporeal undead. Each round at the beginning of its turn, a disrupted incorporeal undead gets to make a DC 15 Will save as a free action. If it succeeds, it is no longer disrupted and may act normally. A disrupted incorporeal undead gets a +1 bonus on this Will save for each round that it has been disrupted.

Running Water

Some supernatural creatures cannot cross running water. They can’t even use bridges or fly over running water. This is one more reason why most communities are built near rivers or streams.

When confronted with running water, a supernatural creature with this vulnerability can attempt a DC 15 Will save. Success allows it to cross the running water, but the creature is treated as if staggered during the crossing. Failure means the monster simply cannot cross under its own power. It could, however, have a minion or vehicle carry it, but during the crossing the creature is treated as helpless. The monster is only ever allowed one saving throw to cross any particular body of running water.

Salt

Salt purifies and preserves. In some places during certain times in human history, salt has literally been worth its weight in gold. Without salt, food spoils more quickly and sickness and death await. Against certain supernatural creatures, salt has two uses. First, it can form an effective barrier. Salt can also cause damage.

Salt barrier: As a move action that provokes attacks of opportunity, a line of salt can be poured across a single side of a 5-foot square. Creatures susceptible to salt cannot move across this line using any innate means. This includes all modes of movement as well as spell-like and supernatural abilities. The salt line does not prevent the creature from attacking across the line, however, so salt users had best move back to avoid reach.

Also, while the creature cannot directly affect the line of salt, it can use a variety of means to break the line’s integrity. A gust of wind can blow the salt away. A bucket of water can wash it away. Thus, in many instances, a salt barrier provides only temporary security.

Contact with salt: Salt susceptible monsters who are exposed to salt’s touch for one full round suffer 1d6 points of damage from the contact.

Silver

Silver sits in pretty much the same boat as iron. It’s useful to bypass damage reduction, and that’s about it.

Creatures without DR #/silver that are vulnerable to silver suffer +1 points of damage from silver weapons (including improvised weapons like a silver candlestick holder). A silver item (such as a silver piece) that is held against a vulnerable creature’s skin for one full round burns the creature for 1d6 points of damage.

Sunlight/Sunrise

The sun’s light chases away the darkness and the creatures who live in it. It is the most common defense against supernatural evil, even if one must survive for several hours before it can be put into play. In many folk tales and fantasy stories, all sorts of creatures can’t stand the light of day.

Several creatures already have sunlight vulnerability or light weakness. These game effects are well-defined. In my current campaign, I will expand the number of creatures with these traits. Also, there are some monsters for whom the touch of sunlight is quite deadly.

Petrified by Sunlight: A creature with this weakness that is touched by sunlight must make a DC 15 Fortitude save or be turned to stone (as flesh to stone). Of course, keeping the trolls talking all night can be a bit tricky.

Thresholds

Before inviting that handsome stranger into the house, make sure he’s not a vampire. Everyone know that once a vampire’s been invited, he has carte blanche to just show up whenever he wants. If anything is worse than an uninvited guest, it’s a guest that feeds on his host’s life energy.

Creatures with threshold weakness cannot enter a building unless invited. It doesn’t matter who invites the creature, nor is it relevant that the invitation is gained via deceit or magic. Of course, this weakness doesn’t prevent the creature from setting the building on fire or sending in its mob of brain-eating zombies.

Monsters suspectible to iron, salt, silver, and holy symbols can also be kept from entering a building if the appropriate item is affixed or poured near the various entrances. Hanging an iron horseshoe over the front door doesn’t just bring good luck. It also helps keep malicious fey out of the living room. One needs to take care that all potential entrances are so warded. The horseshoe over the front door won’t stop a bogie from entering through a window.

Putting all this into play

Since these are the commoner’s methods of defense against the supernatural, it stands to reason that the various methods are well-known. For my current campaign, I need to decide ahead of time which creatures possess which vulnerabilities. Then, I need to let my players know this information before it becomes relevant.

Let’s say our next game session involves the PCs heading to a logging camp that’s been having trouble with members of the Unseelie Court. The PCs know before they leave town that they will be facing evil fey. In general, fey have problems even with normal iron. The PCs are advised to stock up on iron weapons and to bring along a sack of iron nails to affix near building entrances.

Let’s further imagine that one of the Unseelie sighted in the area is a redcap bogie. In my campaign, redcap bogies are so wicked that they can be held at bay by a boldly presented holy symbol. This vital bit of information should almost certainly be shared with the players.

Once these customized bits of campaign fluff and crunch have been put into play, they need to be documented for consistency’s sake. That way, the next time the PCs encounter a redcap bogie, I’ll remember that, yes, the devout fighter can whip out a holy symbol and have a chance to daze the monster before it can gut the party’s wizard.

Tags: Game Geek

An article I wrote for Game Geek 4:

I attended a couple of gaming conventions at the beginning of this year. Despite Houston, Texas, being a rather large city, we’re sort of a gaming convention desert. Driven by two motivations, I ventured out into this wasteland for the first time in years.

My son Christopher turned 13 at the end of December. For one of his birthday presents, he was officially made a Probationary Junior Man and invited to game as a member of Man Day Adventures, my twice-monthly gaming group. Christopher, a.k.a. Giant Boy (owing to his 75 inches of height), had participated here and there in a few one-shot games when not all Man Day Adventurers were available for our regular campaign.

His enthusiasm is refreshing, but it can be a bit overwhelming at times. A 200-pound 13-year-old inspires mild trepidation when he gets overstimulated and starts trying to do too much at once: talk, laugh, roll dice, figure out which curse words he can get away with, move miniatures (including those he shouldn’t move), et cetera. When ConJour 2010 and OwlCon 2010 rolled around, I decided that Christopher needed to go. I figured he’d have fun, it’d be a chance for us do some father-son bonding, and so forth.

My motives weren’t entirely focused on my son, however. I also needed to playtest some Spes Magna Games material, and the conventions seemed like a great place to experiment. So, I signed up to run events at both conventions.

ConJour turned out to be sort of a bust, but we did get some card game playing done. OwlCon proved more active in terms of gaming. Christopher and I played a Truth & Justice session together. I ran my event with him as one of the players. The next day’s schedule presented a challenge. I had my event to run, and Christopher couldn’t play in it again. So, while I ran my game, he set out on his own to play in a Draw! event. Before I placed by firstborn in the hands of total strangers in a different part of the convention from where I’d be, I sat Christopher down and went over some of the rules of the road for convention gaming.

Rule 1: Be On Time

If an event starts at 3:00 p.m., be there by 2:50 p.m. This applies whether you’re a player or the GM.

Players: Your GM is almost certainly an unpaid volunteer who’s taken time out of his or her busy life to provide some entertainment for tables of strangers in four-hour blocks. Be considerate. If you signed up for the event, get there on time.

GMs: Your players have almost certainly paid hard-earned money in addition to taking time out of their busy schedules to be entertained at table full of strangers in four-hour blocks. If you volunteered to run an event, be on-time and run the event. Barring illness or an emergency, it’s the least anyone could do. If for some reason, you can’t make your event, let the convention staff know as soon as you can. If the staff is on top of things, they might be able to make other arrangements.

For example, several years ago, I attended a convention at one of Houston’s airports. I got to meet Gary Gygax in the hotel bar. I had a hoot of a time playing an elven rogue in one event. The second part of the event, however, got cancelled. Fortunately, the GM let the convention staff know. This gave me time to volunteer to run the event and do a quick read through the adventure. Sure, I didn’t get to reprise my role as that elven rogue, but at least everyone still got to play.

Rule 2: Use Prep Time Wisely

One of the advantages of everyone being on-time is you get time to prep before the game officially starts. Most convention games provide characters, background handouts, et cetera. Use your time wisely and study these. If things don’t make sense, ask questions and accept the answers. During a convention event is not the time to get into a power struggle over rules interpretations. Highlight or underline important stats, abilities, and information. Look up details about class features, powers, spells, and feats before the game starts. Also, make notes. Write down a catch phrase or two. Preplan how your character is going to act if such-and-such happens.

For example, Christopher had never played Draw! or any other Wild West RPG before. He also lacks my breadth of experience with the works of John Wayne and Clint Eastwood. To help him get into character, I jotted down some Wild West-isms for him: vittles instead of food, varmints and critters to refer to animals, slapping leather instead of pulling a pistol. Simple things like “Let’s ride!” and “Smile when you say that!” can go a long way toward creating the right mood for the right sort of game.

The preceding paragraphs are aimed mainly at the players, but GMs aren’t exempt from prepping. If you’re GMing a convention event, you should show up ready to run. A four-hour event shouldn’t require more than 30 minutes of at-table prep time, and most of that should involve making sure your players are good to go.

Rule 3: Don’t Hog the Ball

You’re not the only person at the table. Roleplaying is a collaborative affair, and you don’t get to monopolize the action or the GM’s attention. This is great advice for a thirteen-year old lad who’s relatively new to RPGs. It’s also something that some older, more experienced gamers have yet to learn. Here’s where basic good manners come in handy. These are the sorts of things you find posted on classroom walls in elementary schools. Don’t interrupt. Wait your turn. Stay on task.

The great thing about these basic good manners rules is that they apply to everyone at the table, including the GM. Be proactive with them. Cue people when it’s their turn. If you’re not sure whose turn it is, defer to the other person. It’s like sitting at a four-way stop. Sure, you might have right-of-way, but if the other drivers are confused, the result could be a fender bender. The give-and-take of spotlight time during a game session works much the same way, but instead of bent fenders, you can end up with hurt feelings and ill will.

This one can be sort of tough for Christopher. He’s a talker, especially when he gets excited about what he’s doing. Those three short rules two paragraphs up did wonders for helping him succeed at the game table.

Rule 4: Don’t Be a Wallflower

You’re a person at the table. Roleplaying is a collaborative affair, and you don’t get to just sit there, doing and saying the bare minimum when your turn comes around. If you’re not sure what your character can do, ask. Prepare your turn by paying attention to the action, and then seize the day when you get the chance. The other players and the GM at your table should help you get into the game by being the opposite of a ball hog. When someone tosses you the opportunity to do something, do something. Often, anything is better than nothing at all.

This can also be tough for Christopher. His comfort level in social situations, especially around strangers, can run rather low. This is where using his time wisely came in handy. He got to familiarize himself with his characters, ask questions, and make notes. During the Truth & Justice game, I sat close by his elbow so that I could whisper advice or pass notes to him with ideas he could use or reject as he saw fit while roleplaying the Scarlet Spider.

Rule 5: Roleplay First; Roll Dice Second

“I hit AC 18 for 9 points of damage.”

Dull, huh? Where’s the roleplaying? Where’s the narration? Everyone at the gaming table needs to lift some of the event’s narrative weight. One of the best ways to do this is to describe what your character wants to do, toss in some in-character banter, and then roll the dice. Succeed or fail, you should then briefly react as appropriate.

“Grondo grips his greatsword tightly and whirls it in a deadly arc at the orc. ‘Die, pig-nosed scumdog!'” Dice clatter on the table. “I hit AC 18 for 9 points of damage.”

See the difference? It seems such a simple thing, but it can be difficult to do consistently unless you’ve already developed the habit. During the Truth & Justice game, I frequently reminded Christopher to picture what his character wanted to do and then describe that action to everyone at the table. If the GM had any questions or comments, he listened to them. Then, and only then, did he roll the dice and do the math. The result was a more enjoyable game session for everyone at the table

Christopher took these rules with him when he went to play Draw! without familiar adult supervision. The rules paid off. For a few hours my giant son got to be a bounty hunter on the trail of desperados, and he had fun doing it.

And, ultimately, that’s what gaming is all about: having fun with fellow gamers, whether they be family, friends, or strangers at a convention gaming table.

Tags: Convention Gaming, Game Geek

Why, hello there!

I’ve made a few posts here about Man Day’s new “We’re Not In Arkansas Anymore!” campaign. I’ve also received nice feedback about WNIAA from an RPG vee-eye-pee, who shall remain nameless so it doesn’t like I’m just name-dropping. Recently, fellow Man Day adventurer Terry convinced me to check out Obsidian Portal. I fixed my skepticism firmly in place to help convince me that something new and wiki wouldn’t be to my liking.

I was wrong. Obsidian Portal is a hoot. It’s easy to use, comes with friendly how-to videos, and has a cool name. Seriously. Obsidian Portal. That right there just screams, “Open me! Adventure awaits!”

So, WNIAA is now officially an Obsidian Portal campaign. You check it out by clicking here.

In company news, Spes Magna Games now has a store at Paizo.com. Now you can purchase Spes Magna products with the easy convenience of the Paizo on-line shopping experience. You Quid Novi? subscribers can still use your subscriber discount code. Also, starting this Wednesday, 16 June, we launch our 25% off Father’s Day sale that lasts until Wednesday, 23 June. Visit the store today to check out what we have to offer.

Tags: Spes Magna Products

Today’s blog post isn’t by me. It’s by fellow Man-Day Adventurer Eric, who is an invenerate rules tinkerer. Thus, the “I” mentioned below isn’t yours truly. It’s Eric, who thought these rules might be of general interest. So, he emailed me the doc, and I whacked away a bit with my editing stick. So, without further ado….

The In-Game Effects of Love

First some background on why I started down this road. One of our characters, a dwarven warrior by trade, through a set of unusual circumstances fell into the good graces of a certain marilith. This marilith, whose name pains mortal tongues to speak, answers to Shen-Kriltha. The dwarf didn’t seem to mind the scales and took a liking to her in turn. This led me to think, how can I make this strange love affair matter in game terms?

Have you ever asked yourself why characters seldom if ever fall in love in the game? Surely in a world full of heroes, princesses, maidens, and such, there are plenty of eligible, attractive candidates. In my experience, the reason is simple: It would be nothing but a liability. Having a wife back home while you go out adventuring would be like having a neon sign begging some big bad guy to come and kidnap her. How many DMs could resist the urge to use this significant other against your character? [Editorial Aside: I know I couldn’t!]

But what if it didn’t have to be that way? Many movies and books feature protagonists spurred to greater heroism because of their undying love. Having a partner provides encouragement to strive harder and do better. The demonstrable benefits to having a partner to share one’s life with can be simulated for PCs.

Quantifying Dedication

This is the part where we have to sacrifice some realism for playability. The challenge is to take a concept as vague and mystical as love and reduce it to a useable game mechanic. Something will be lost in the translation, but this cannot be helped. A PC with a significant other earns Dedication Points during play based on the following guidelines.

Demonstration of Love: 1 point. For example, a PC could earn 1 DP for leaving the dungeon after slaying the dragon only to rush home and into the loved one’s arms.

Minor Sacrifice for Love: 1-3 points. For example, a PC could spend some of that dragon’s hoard on a ring or necklace. The key thing to remember is that this is rather subjective. Don’t get too carried away on awarding points here, and it’s not about actual gold piece value. The idea is to reward the player’s roleplaying and the PC’s use of a valuable resource in a way that doesn’t really benefit the PC. After all, 300 gp spent on a fancy necklace is 300 gp not spent on a useful potion.

Major Sacrifice for Love: 5 points. Examples would be choosing an extremely suboptimal class for the sake of their love, sitting out from adventuring for a time because of the new baby (meaning the player has to play a standby for a while), and other major demonstrations of love and dedication.

Here’s an important point: Dedication Points never really go away. While certain effects happen due to a PC’s Dedication Point total, you do not subtract the points that caused that effect. As long as the roleplaying dedication is consistent, the points continue to accrue, representing the growth of deeper levels of dedication, commitment, and strength.

Also, the objective of these rules is not to reduce love to a game mechanic that can be calculated and manipulated by the players, but rather to provide some small reward for good roleplaying that phenomenon we call love.

Implementing the Effects

Now that a PC has these points, how does he use them? Well, he doesn’t. Rather, Dedication Point totals are a tool the DM uses to grant a PC a boon he otherwise wouldn’t have. Here’s a summary of suggested love boons:

* 5 Dedication Points can earn a +1 bonus to a single saving throw.
* 10 Dedication Points can earn a +2 bonus to a skill check or a free rank in a new “hobby” skill.
* 15 Dedication Points can earn a bonus feat in new “hobby” area or turn a failed skill check into a successful one.
* 20 Dedication Points can turn a failed saving throw or skill check into a successful one.

The save bonus is intended to be small, just enough to push a PC from failure to success due to that inner spark and drive to see his loved one, to prevent harm from coming to a loved one, et cetera.

The skill bonus might not come into play in a life or death situation. Perhaps the PC gets a small bonus on a Craft check and the necklace they were making isn’t ruined as a result. Or maybe the PC has made so many gift baskets for her hubby that she gains a free rank Craft(basketweaving).

The bonus feat is not intended to be something combat related. Rather, it should be something that ties back to the PC’s romantic interest. Feats such as Negotiator, Great Fortitude, Toughness, or Iron Will might be appropriate. If all else fails, create a custom feat.

The failed saving throw and failed skill check becoming successes are just what they sounds like. Again this represents intense dedication and focus motivated by love.

None of these effects are continuous, or they quickly would get out of hand. Rather the exact timing is up to the DM. As a guideline, I suggest Dedication Point effects occur no more than once per game session per PC.

If all of this seems too complicated, just make a little mark somewhere each time a PC does something for their significant other. Use those little marks as the record of Dedication Points.

A Short Love Story

Suppose the rogue has been really playing up how important his sweetheart Sophie is to him via little comments and small demonstrations. “I take one of the dire lion teeth and cut it out of the beast and use it to carve a little ivory tiger for my honey,” says the rogue’s player. These small things are consistent and represent good roleplaying by the player to show how much his PC loves Sophie.

Later, the rogue is in a dungeon and is ambushed by a carrion crawler. A paralyzing tentacle strikes the rogue, and he fails his save by one point. The DM announces, “As you slump to the ground paralyzed, you think of how this is your last day, how your will die on this dirty dungeon floor, and will never see Sophie again. This thought causes your heart to race even more than it already was and infuses you with new energy as you hold the image of Sophie in your mind’s eye and shake off the paralyzation!”

Imagine the look on the players face when that happens!