Spes Magna Games

With my older group of student-players in the gaming club I facilitate whereat I teach, we recently started a sort of mash-up of Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay (from 1986) and basic D&D. I’ve got three 8th graders involved. All three made up elves with the Career Classes of Ranger, Rogue, and Academic. Their starting basic careers are Fisherman, Hypnotist, and Thief. The trio of elves left Albion aboard the Fisherman’s boat and made their way to the land of humans, eventually arriving at Nuln. Good times.

For those unfamilar with Warhammer‘s Old World setting, it is analogous to late-medieval/early-Renaissance western Europe in many ways. It’s a very human-centric setting. Elves in particular are rather rare, which makes the student-players’ characters something noteworthy in the cobbled streets of Nuln. Typical fantasy races such as dwarves, halflings, orcs, goblins, et cetera exist in the Old World. So too do more monstrous creatures like ogres, giant scorpions, and what not. Back when I played Warhammer while stationed at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, our games seldom involved more exotic monsters. The weirdest we encountered were the undead. Demons, devils, intelligent slimes, and what not never showed up.

In Warhammer, the other-worldliness of certain creatures results in those creatures causing Fear or Terror, which is a lot like Fear but also causes lasting psychological damage. For example, a Manticore causes “fear in living creatures under 10 feet tall.” In contrast, a mummy invokes fear in all living creatures, but causes “terror in living creatures under 10 feet tall.” Even the (in D&D terms) relative mundane undead skeleton causes fear in living creatures. In short, the idea that certain creatures are so fearsome and/or so unnatural that the characters’ minds rebel against their very presence is baked into the Warhammer world.

This sort of baking is not part and parcel of D&D. Even 1st-level characters may face a squad of undead skeletons with no more rules-induced trepidation than they’d experience facing the same number of bandits. Within the reality of the “standard” D&D game-world, walking skeletons are no more unnerving psychologically than walking people. There’s nothing wrong with this, unless you want their to be something wrong with it.

Let’s consider fear conditions for 5E D&D that work in a way inspired by Warhammer, and apply those conditions to encounters with undead of any sort. In 5E, the only condition related to fear is frightened. It’s a sort of one-size scares all condition. Moving back a couple of E’s, we find in the d20 System four fear-related conditions: shaken, frightened, panicked, and cowering (in order from least to most severe). I like these, but they’ll need to tweaked to fit 5E.

A brief digression into the 5E version of exhaustion gives me an idea. The condition of exhaustion in 5E has six levels, each one imposing a certain limitation. A character with one level of exhaustion has disadvantage on ability checks. With two levels, he has disadvantage on ability checks and moves at half speed. And so on. Fear conditions could work in a similar manner. A character with one level of fright is shaken, with two levels is frightened, et cetera.

Now I just need to decide on what each level of fright does. Since frightened is already a 5E condition, that might work as a sort of baseline. Shaken would be less severe than frightened. Panicked and cowering would be more severe. After some pondering, here’s what I came up with:

Shaken: A frightened creature has disadvantage on ability checks and attack rolls while the source of its fear is within line of sight.

Frightened: A frightened creature has disadvantage on ability checks and attack rolls while the source of its fear is within line of sight. The creature can’t willingly move closer to the source of its fear.

Panicked: A panicked creature drops anything it holds and flese at top speed from the source of its fear, as well as any other dangers it encounters, along a random path. It can’t use the attack action. In addition, the panicked creature has disadvantage on ability checks. If cornered, a panicked creature cowers. A panicked creature can use special abilities, including spells, to flee; indeed, the panicked creature must use such means if they are the only way to escape.

Cowering: A cowering creature is incapacitated, meaning the creature can’t take actions or reactions. Also, the cowering creature can’t move, and it can speak (or scream or sob) only falteringly. The creature automatically fails Strength and Dexterity saving throws. Attack rolls against the creature have advantage.

Most undead creatures cause Fear. More powerful undead cause Terror. In either case, the victim gets a Will saving throw to resist the effect. Set the DC as appropriate for the creature’s CR. All that is required for the saving throw to trigger is line of sight to the monster, at least in most cases. For weaker undead, it might be reasonable to only require the Will saving throw when the undead attacks. For undead that cause Fear, failing the saving throw imposes one level of fright, which means the character would be Shaken most of the time. Terror is more serious. If the saving throw against Terror fails by 5 or more, the victim receives two levels of fright, which means becoming Frightened at a minimum. In any case, at the end of its turn, the victim of fear is permitted another Will saving throw. If successful, the creature’s fright level is reduced by one level.

As Kelly Bundy says, “Viola!” With rules like these, I’ve taken the first step toward creating a world in which unnatural foes such as the undead are not only frightening in concept but also pose psychological risks, at least in the short term. For more horror, I could put into play the rules related to sanity loss found in the 5E DMG, attaching those rules to encounters with Terror-inducing monsters and/or against characters who reach Panicked or Cowering levels of fright.

Good times.

Tags: 5E D&D, horror, monsters, Warhammer

I received John August’s Writer Emergency Pack via the mail this week. The idea behind it is simple: two decks of 26 cards each, numbered 1 through 26 twice. One deck has illustrated Idea cards, like the “Lose the Cavalry” card showing the cavalry soldier doing his Sean Bean imitation. The other card with the same number is the Detail card. One side has a bit of narration explaining the idea of the idea card. The other side (shown in the pic) has specific suggestions about how to implement the idea. In game mode, players start with a well-known story, such as Hamlet or Curious George. They then take turns retelling the tale based on their respective cards. After spring break, which is next week, I shall introduce at least my 8th graders to these cards.

For this post, I’m looking at the cards as a tool for generating ideas when writing. This could be fiction writing for a lark, class assignment writing for a grade, or adventure writing for a game. In order to put the Writer Emergency Pack into play, I need a story; therefore, “The Shepherd’s Boy and the Wolf” from Aesop’s Fables as told by J. H. Stickney, published in 1915 by Ginn and Company. Next, I draw three Idea cards after shuffling the decks. I get Fight the Giant, Narrator, and Talk It Out. The story is already in third person, so Narrator doesn’t really fit. Between the other two, I like Talk It Out the best. I follow the instructions on the accompanying Detail card.

1. Three locations or situations in which the shepherd boy and the wolf could talk at length?

The most obvious location is the meadow where the sheep graze. Perhaps the boy tracks the wolf back to its lair, or the wolf tracks the boy back to his home.

2. Three characters the shepherd boy could confide in?

The shepherd boy works for the sheep’s owner. The shepherd boy likely has family: parents, an older sibling. A farmer irate at the boy’s pranks might take pity on the boy and offer a friendly ear.

3. A conversation between the shepherd boy and his younger self. What advice would he give?

This one stumped me at first. I mean, the shepherd boy is a boy. His younger self would be even boy-er. But, why fight it? This might be counterpoint to the advice received by the boy’s confidants. The boy’s inner voice urges him toward further shenanigans. Or, perhaps, through the “conversation”, the boy remembers simpler, better times when obedience and duty didn’t seem to be so burdensome.

4. The antagonist is nonhuman. How does the wolf speak? How does it describe what it wants?

It’s a fable. The wolf talks, most likely with a German accent. The wolf wants lamb, but the only way he knows how to get it is to be a predator.

When I put this together, the familiar fable refashions into a different tale. At some point in the story, the boy and wolf have a talk. They explain their respective positions. Doubtless, accusations and misunderstandings arise. Since the boy is a bit of a lout and the wolf is, well, a wolf, I hear them reaching some sort of accord. The shepherd boy agrees to give the wolf X number of sheep as payment for revenge against those who mocked the boy, for example. Or, perhaps, the boy and wolf become friends. Sure, the wolf still eats the sheep, but so do the people in the village from which the boy comes. In this scenario, however, the wolf and the boy team up to defend the sheep and the maybe the village itself against a wolf pack under the command of a Big Bad Wolf. That way, we get some exciting action scenes, and both the boy and the wolf earn a place of respect in the community.

Regardless of which way I would take the story, the familiar fable becomes something rather different, and therein lies the fun. The Detail cards suggest rather than prescribe or proscribe. In answering the questions a Detail card asks, I’m still the creative force. My likes, dislikes, personality, et cetera, drive the story from the starting points of the Detail card’s questions.

If the Writer Emergency Pack works well in class, I’m inclined to seek out some of John August’s other products.

Tags: story games, Writer Emergency Pack

“Yes!” replied Ahmeek, the beaver, He the King of all the beavers, “Let yourself slide down among us, Down into the tranquil water.” — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Song of Hiawatha, Canto XVII

Last post, I updated the giant lynx from the AD&D Monster Manual for use with 5E D&D. Today, I give the giant beaver an even fully treatment, taking as my starting point the fact that beavers in Song of Hiawatha are intelligent, can talk, and have magical powers. Also, since they gave shelter to Pau-Puk-Keewis, a rather nasty character, it stands to reason that beavers are evil, which means that giant beavers would have bigger evil.

So, why are giant beavers evil? Well, they’re expansionistic and territorial, and when giant beavers expand their territory, they do by damming up rivers, which means flooding some areas and cutting off other areas from fresh water. Giant beavers control water supplies in order to bring other creatures under their domination.

Since “giant beaver” does not exactly inspire dread, let’s take Longfellow’s cue and call these new monsters the “Ahmeek”. The Ahmeek resemble human-sized beavers that have hand-like forepaws. Much of the time when on land or in their fort-dams, they amble about on all fours, but Ahmeek can waddle bipedally with comparative ease. These militaristic creatures live in fort-dams built from mostly from logs and mud. A fort-dam’s walls are seldom less than 5 feet thick, and the main points of ingress or egress are always submerged. A typical fort-dam houses about 40 Ahmeek warriors and their families, along with their leaders.

Ahmeek Warrior
Medium monstrosity, lawful evil

Armor Class 14 (natural armor)
Hit Points 26 (4d8+8)
Speed 25 ft., swim 30 ft.

STR 14 (+2), DEX 15 (+2), CON 14 (+2), INT 9 (-1), WIS 11 (+0), CHA 8 (-1)

Skills Perception +2
Senses darkvision 60 ft., passive Perception 12
Languages Common, Giant Beaver
Challenge 1 (200)

Hold Breath. The Ahmeek can hold its breath for 15 minutes.

Keen Hearing and Smell. The Ahmeek has advantage on Wisdom (Perception) checks that rely on hearing or smell.

Siege Monster. The Ahmeek deals double damage to objects and structures made of wood.

Swimby. The Ahmeek doesn’t provoke opportunity attacks when it swims out of an enemy’s reach.

Actions

Bite. Melee Weapon Attack: +4 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 7 (2d4+2) piercing damage.

Spear. Melee or Ranged Weapon Attack: +4 to hit, reach 5 ft. or range 20/60 ft., one target. Hit: 5 (1d6+2) piercing damage, or 6 (1d8+2) piercing damage if used with two hands to make a melee attack.

Tags: 5E D&D, monsters, The Song of Hiawatha

One of the nifty aspects of the AD&D Monster Manual might be missed by a less-than-careful reading.

“Really?” you say. “And what might that nifty aspect be?”

Yes, really, and good question. Of course, we all know that the Monster Manual includes giant animals. There are giant ants, giant beetles, giant gars, giant pikes, giant slugs, giant turtles, and more. A few of these over-sized animals have intelligences approaching or even exceeding human average. Some of this might be due to the influence of J. R. R. Tolkien. Giant eagles, for example, have Average intelligence. Worgs and giant spiders have Low intelligence. In a decidedly non-Tolkien move, giant beavers are Low to Average.

And then there’s the giant lynx, which is Very intelligent. In numerical terms, that’s an 11-12 Intelligence, compared to 8-10 for Average.

Back in the day, when I DMed AD&D, yes, I did use giant lynxes at least once. I don’t recall many of the details, but I’m pretty sure the PCs had to negotiate with the canny arctic feline for something related to the adventure. When I DMed in high school, I was on a mission to use every single monster in the Monster Manual (I and II) and Fiend Folio in an adventure somehow. I never achieved that goal, but not for lack of trying. For example, I made a jungle ruin-crawl adventure that included every single plant and fungus monster from the Monster Manual. Also, there was a mind flayer. I guess it was the gardener.

Even farther back in more distant days, Theophrastus (circa 320 B.C. or thereabouts), wrote about lynx stones in his On Stones, an ancient text about stones. On Stones was used by mineralogists for centuries. A lynx stone forms when lynx urine hardens into a stone-like substance. Since the lynx doesn’t want humans taking its lynx stones, the clever beast buries its urine.

Theophrastus says the lynx stone attracts straw, wood, copper, and iron. The urine of tame lynxes doesn’t produce lynx stones, nor does the urine of female lynxes, tame or otherwise. Ovid, Pliny the Elder, and Isidore of Seville all confirm the existence and origin of lynx stones, although Pliny and Isidore call the substance lynx water. Pliny and Isidore also note that lynxes know this happens. According to Pliny, lynxes cover their urine to speed up the solidification process. Isidore says lynxes bury their urine because they are naturally jealous and don’t want humans owning lynx stones.

So, obviously, if motivated by knowledge and jealously, lynxes must be intelligent, maybe even Very intelligent.

Giant Lynx
Medium monstrosity, neutral

Armor Class 14 (natural armor)
Hit Points 22 (4d8+4)
Speed 30 ft.

STR 12 (+1), DEX 17 (+3), CON 12 (+1), INT 12 (+1), WIS 14 (+2), CHA 10 (+0)

Skills Athletics +3, Perception +4, Stealth +5
Damage Resistances cold
Senses passive Perception 14
Languages Giant Lynx
Challenge 1 (200 XP)

Aggressive. As a bonus action, the giant lynx can move up to its speed toward a hostile creature that it can see.

Pounce. If the giant lynx moves at least 20 feet straight toward a creature and then hits it with a claw attack on the same turn, that target must succeed on a DC 13 Strength saving throw or be knocked prone. If the target is prone, the giant lynx can make one bite attack against it as a bonus action.

Keen Hearing and Sight. The giant lynx has advantage on Wisdom (Perception) checks that rely on hearing and sight.

Running Leap. With a 10-foot running start, the giant lynx can leap up to 15 feet.

Snow Camouflage. The giant lynx has advantage on Dexterity (Stealth) checks made to hide in snowy terrain.

Actions

Bite. Melee Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 6 (1d6+3) piercing damage.

Claw. Melee Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 5 (1d4+3) slashing damage.

Tags: 5E D&D, AD&D, monsters

The masterly Matt Jackson continues to post captivating CollabDungeons. Numbers two and three beg to be admired and adapted into adventures. When Matt posted the first CollaboDungeon, I imagined it as one of several tombs now lost in some remote wilderness region. Then, I wrote this:

For centuries, persons of wealth, power, and achievement sought to be buried in the wide, winding valleys near the wooded frontier of the kingdom. The villages nearest to the frontier adopted various funerary specialties. The coffinmakers here, the masons there, the mourners elsewhere, and so forth. Representatives from each village, elected by their constituents, formed the Mortuary Moot, a rowdy assembly of leaders who met regularly to debate and settle disputes related to the economic governance of the region. The people prospered until Mount Beinn, looming on the eastern horizon, roared back to life. Enormous clouds of volcanic ash rushed down the valleys, blasting the forests away and burying most of Mortuary Moot under yards of debris. Thousands died. In the aftermath, evil humanoids from the Wilderlands ventured into the frontier, killing or driving away those who survived Beinn’s fury.

In recent years, baronial mayors closest to what had been Mortuary Moot have increasingly sought to reclaim the devastated region. To this end, the mayors have made it clear that they welcome adventurers who seek fame and fortune. With sword, spell, and stealth, those adventurers may drive back the hordes of evil humanoids that plague the region, making it possible for the baronial mayors to send soldiers and settlers back into the frontier. Among the most tempting targets drawing adventurers into the area are the tremuli, the numerous artificial hills under which persons of wealth, power, and achievement were buried. Who knows what treasures wait the next intrepid band of would-be tomb robbers?

I like this idea. It could work its way into a sort of Indiana Jones meets the Magnificent Seven meets Mad Max. The PCs would try to recover lost artifacts while avoiding roaming bands of savages while helping protect the re-establishment of civilization while slowly discovering sinister forces working to exploit, destroy, enslave, et cetera. I wonder if I could talk Matt into doing a blighted wilderness map suitable for a starting campaign location? Perhaps if I threaten him with ash goblins?

Ash goblins are small, murderous humanoids that lurk in volcanic regions. They appear much like normal goblins, albeit with gray flesh and small, close-set eyes. Ash goblins tend to be smarter and more organized than their more common relatives.

Ash Goblin
Small humanoid (goblinoid), lawful evil

Armor Class 13 (leather armor)
Hit Points 18 (4d6+4)
Speed 30 ft., burrow 15 ft.

STR 10 (+0), DEX 14 (+2), CON 13 (+1), INT 8 (-1), WIS 11 (+0), CHA 9 (-1)

Skills Stealth +4, Survival +2
Damage Resistances fire
Senses darkvision 30 ft., tremorsense 60 ft., passive Perception 10
Languages Common, Goblin, Ignan
Challenge 1/2 (100 XP)

Hold Breath. The ash goblin can hold its breath for 15 minutes.

Nimble Escape. The ash goblin can take the Disengage or Hide action as a bonus action on each of its turns.

Actions

Shortsword. Melee Weapon Attack: +4 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 5 (1d6+2) piercing damage.

Javelin. Melee or Ranged Weapon Attack: +2 to hit, reach 5 ft. or range 30/120 ft., one target. Hit: 3 (1d6) piercing damage.

Tags: 5E D&D, Matt Jackson, monsters, place of power