I hate the idea of race-as-class. It is the definition of racism. Even in Tolkien, we had more diversity in our elves and dwarves than that suggested by the race-as-class idea. So, we are just skipping over that and jumping to actually useful material.
In LotFP, characters are generated by 3d6 in order. This represents, I suppose, the randomness of the universe and the degree to which it doesn't care that we wanted a fighter, we get someone with 18 Int and a Con of 5 instead. Races let you pick and choose where your abilities go, with some caveats.
Bairnedred: Highest scores must be in Dexterity and Wisdom.
Ferocia: Highest scores must be in Dexterity and Constitution, and lowest or 2nd-lowest must be in Strength due to small size.
Archivists: Highest scores must be in Intelligence and Wisdom and lowest or 2nd-lowest must be in Strength due to small size.
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Saturday, October 17, 2015
Prodigy Trades translated into LotFP Part III
Reminding you that:
Prodigy does not have a vanilla fantasy backbone, which means that most D&D classes are not appropriate - any class involving elves, dwarves, halflings, gnomes, etc. is out immediately, as are any that refer to traditional wizards, sorcerers, and druids (in the normal D&D sense), among others. This is problematic when, for example, you are trying to run a LotFP game for your local Tabletop Gaming Association in the world of Prodigy. Playing strictly by the rules, you are down to 3 classes - fighters, specialists, and clerics (which are the priests of the One True God). Since I am trying to be inclusive, I am allowing traditional wizards, but I've also made it very clear that most magic does not happen the way traditional wizards do it.
Well, my players have progressed away from the human-centric center regions, they are now able to create non-human characters and therefore have access to the non-standard abilities these new related classes have. So, inspired by Goblin Punch's excellent series of posts (there are others, too), here is one of the Prodigy trades rendered system-less for general digestion.
The Sohei
Sohei are warrior monks devoted to the idea of peace. They utilize violence to usher in an era of tranquility. The irony mostly escapes them.
Sohei are like thieves/specialists, but they have a new skill, Peacebonding, and only get 1/2 the regular amount of skill points/whatever that thieves/specialists get.
The Sohei can use Peacebonding to force other targets to remain peaceful (unless the Sohei and their allies become aggressive).
They can also spend their skill points or whatever to improve their fighting ability.
Sohei wield giant battle oars called eiku.
Prodigy does not have a vanilla fantasy backbone, which means that most D&D classes are not appropriate - any class involving elves, dwarves, halflings, gnomes, etc. is out immediately, as are any that refer to traditional wizards, sorcerers, and druids (in the normal D&D sense), among others. This is problematic when, for example, you are trying to run a LotFP game for your local Tabletop Gaming Association in the world of Prodigy. Playing strictly by the rules, you are down to 3 classes - fighters, specialists, and clerics (which are the priests of the One True God). Since I am trying to be inclusive, I am allowing traditional wizards, but I've also made it very clear that most magic does not happen the way traditional wizards do it.
Well, my players have progressed away from the human-centric center regions, they are now able to create non-human characters and therefore have access to the non-standard abilities these new related classes have. So, inspired by Goblin Punch's excellent series of posts (there are others, too), here is one of the Prodigy trades rendered system-less for general digestion.
The Sohei
Sohei are warrior monks devoted to the idea of peace. They utilize violence to usher in an era of tranquility. The irony mostly escapes them.
Sohei are like thieves/specialists, but they have a new skill, Peacebonding, and only get 1/2 the regular amount of skill points/whatever that thieves/specialists get.
The Sohei can use Peacebonding to force other targets to remain peaceful (unless the Sohei and their allies become aggressive).
They can also spend their skill points or whatever to improve their fighting ability.
Sohei wield giant battle oars called eiku.
Prodigy Trades translated into LotFP Part II
As a reminder:
Prodigy does not have a vanilla fantasy backbone, which means that most D&D classes are not appropriate - any class involving elves, dwarves, halflings, gnomes, etc. is out immediately, as are any that refer to traditional wizards, sorcerers, and druids (in the normal D&D sense), among others. This is problematic when, for example, you are trying to run a LotFP game for your local Tabletop Gaming Association in the world of Prodigy. Playing strictly by the rules, you are down to 3 classes - fighters, specialists, and clerics (which are the priests of the One True God). Since I am trying to be inclusive, I am allowing traditional wizards, but I've also made it very clear that most magic does not happen the way traditional wizards do it.
Well, my players have progressed away from the human-centric center regions, they are now able to create non-human characters and therefore have access to the non-standard abilities these new related classes have. So, inspired by Goblin Punch's excellent series of posts (there are others, too), here is one of the Prodigy trades rendered system-less for general digestion.
Conduits worship the jungle of Sahargeen, believing it to be the literal origin of all life. The forest is, actually, the origin of all life, so it gives Conduits a little bit of power as a thank you for spreading the word.
Herb Lore
As the Druid
Skilled:
Conduits get the same skills as thief-type classes, but only half the number of points to spend on them
They also have a new skill: Sahargeen's Bounty
1. Sacred Grove - the Conduit can designate a space as belonging to Sahargeen. All allies find their hp recovery doubled while they rest inside the space, and enemies cannot find the Conduit and their allies without employing magical means more powerful than the Conduit
2. Gain an animal companion, and can ask trees to grow branches in a certain shape and then have them drop. This allows them to make wooden tools in whatever shape they need that have not been touched by tools.
4. Shapeshift - the Conduit can take the form of any local animal, gaining their Strength, Dex, and Con as well as their unique abilities.
8. Would-be poachers, overzealous loggers and other people who violate the sanctity of natural spaces are cursed: nothing involving them can ever flourish or develop (wine to vinegar, food to ash, wounds never heal, etc.)
Prodigy does not have a vanilla fantasy backbone, which means that most D&D classes are not appropriate - any class involving elves, dwarves, halflings, gnomes, etc. is out immediately, as are any that refer to traditional wizards, sorcerers, and druids (in the normal D&D sense), among others. This is problematic when, for example, you are trying to run a LotFP game for your local Tabletop Gaming Association in the world of Prodigy. Playing strictly by the rules, you are down to 3 classes - fighters, specialists, and clerics (which are the priests of the One True God). Since I am trying to be inclusive, I am allowing traditional wizards, but I've also made it very clear that most magic does not happen the way traditional wizards do it.
Well, my players have progressed away from the human-centric center regions, they are now able to create non-human characters and therefore have access to the non-standard abilities these new related classes have. So, inspired by Goblin Punch's excellent series of posts (there are others, too), here is one of the Prodigy trades rendered system-less for general digestion.
Conduits worship the jungle of Sahargeen, believing it to be the literal origin of all life. The forest is, actually, the origin of all life, so it gives Conduits a little bit of power as a thank you for spreading the word.
Herb Lore
As the Druid
Skilled:
Conduits get the same skills as thief-type classes, but only half the number of points to spend on them
They also have a new skill: Sahargeen's Bounty
1. Sacred Grove - the Conduit can designate a space as belonging to Sahargeen. All allies find their hp recovery doubled while they rest inside the space, and enemies cannot find the Conduit and their allies without employing magical means more powerful than the Conduit
2. Gain an animal companion, and can ask trees to grow branches in a certain shape and then have them drop. This allows them to make wooden tools in whatever shape they need that have not been touched by tools.
4. Shapeshift - the Conduit can take the form of any local animal, gaining their Strength, Dex, and Con as well as their unique abilities.
8. Would-be poachers, overzealous loggers and other people who violate the sanctity of natural spaces are cursed: nothing involving them can ever flourish or develop (wine to vinegar, food to ash, wounds never heal, etc.)
Prodigy Trades translated into LotFP Part I
Prodigy does not have a vanilla fantasy backbone, which means that most D&D classes are not appropriate - any class involving elves, dwarves, halflings, gnomes, etc. is out immediately, as are any that refer to traditional wizards, sorcerers, and druids (in the normal D&D sense), among others. This is problematic when, for example, you are trying to run a LotFP game for your local Tabletop Gaming Association in the world of Prodigy. Playing strictly by the rules, you are down to 3 classes - fighters, specialists, and clerics (which are the priests of the One True God). Since I am trying to be inclusive, I am allowing traditional wizards, but I've also made it very clear that most magic does not happen the way traditional wizards do it.
Well, my players have progressed away from the human-centric center regions, they are now able to create non-human characters and therefore have access to the non-standard abilities these new related classes have. So, inspired by Goblin Punch's excellent series of posts (there are others, too), here is one of the Prodigy trades rendered system-less for general digestion.
Druid
Druids worship powerful Sidh (capricious elves and fairies and nymphs and dryads and maenads and enki and shabiri and djinni and stuff), giving them gifts in exchange for tutelage in their particular branch of magic: sorcery.
Druids are based on Magic-Users or Illusionists.
Herb Lore
Given time in a wild environment, druids can gather enough plants to make a poultice or poison, allowing them to double someone's hp recovery or knock someone out. They do plant-things, whatever plant-things are in your game.
Glamours
These are magical effects. They don't work if the target or the druid is wearing silver.
Honeyed Words
1. By touching someone, the druid becomes their best friend.
2. The druid's friends happily comply with small favors
4. Friends of the druid will do anything the druid asks, as long as it is not clearly suicidal or violates their moral compass
8. Those affected by this magic will do anything the druid asks.
Camouflage
1. Change how a 25square yard or 9 cubic yard section of space looks
2. The illusion can now generate smells and sounds
4. The illusion can now move
8. The illusion is tangible - stairs can be climbed, swords cut, food sustains, etc.
Sleep
1. Touched creature who fail their saves are fatigued.
2. Touched creatures instead can fall asleep.
4. The druid can erase or manufacture small details from the minds of a sleeping target.
8. The druid can wholly rewrite the memories of a sleeping target.
At character creation and at each subsequent level, the druid gets 1 point to spend on any of the 3 glamours, increasing its level by 1 (all glamours begin at level 0).
Well, my players have progressed away from the human-centric center regions, they are now able to create non-human characters and therefore have access to the non-standard abilities these new related classes have. So, inspired by Goblin Punch's excellent series of posts (there are others, too), here is one of the Prodigy trades rendered system-less for general digestion.
Druid
Druids worship powerful Sidh (capricious elves and fairies and nymphs and dryads and maenads and enki and shabiri and djinni and stuff), giving them gifts in exchange for tutelage in their particular branch of magic: sorcery.
Druids are based on Magic-Users or Illusionists.
Herb Lore
Given time in a wild environment, druids can gather enough plants to make a poultice or poison, allowing them to double someone's hp recovery or knock someone out. They do plant-things, whatever plant-things are in your game.
Glamours
These are magical effects. They don't work if the target or the druid is wearing silver.
Honeyed Words
1. By touching someone, the druid becomes their best friend.
2. The druid's friends happily comply with small favors
4. Friends of the druid will do anything the druid asks, as long as it is not clearly suicidal or violates their moral compass
8. Those affected by this magic will do anything the druid asks.
Camouflage
1. Change how a 25square yard or 9 cubic yard section of space looks
2. The illusion can now generate smells and sounds
4. The illusion can now move
8. The illusion is tangible - stairs can be climbed, swords cut, food sustains, etc.
Sleep
1. Touched creature who fail their saves are fatigued.
2. Touched creatures instead can fall asleep.
4. The druid can erase or manufacture small details from the minds of a sleeping target.
8. The druid can wholly rewrite the memories of a sleeping target.
At character creation and at each subsequent level, the druid gets 1 point to spend on any of the 3 glamours, increasing its level by 1 (all glamours begin at level 0).
Tuesday, September 8, 2015
Gumei (Again)
D&D is always a work in progress. Everything is constantly under development - it's like music that way. So, here is Gumei again, with the benefits of several months playtime.
There is a city on the edge of a far mountain range ringed by pink walls a mile high. Twelve years ago, the gate to the city opened and treasure-seekers and fortune-hunters galore piled into the city. Some of them made it out, bringing with them terrifying stories and incomprehensible devices and lore. And more came to the city, supporting the adventuring class constantly picking through the ruins.
The city has many ways of killing people. The first is perhaps the least obvious: the city never sleeps. In great chunks, city blocks lift up, rotate, translate, and settle back down. There is no pattern to the city's movements, at least none that the wizened sages who have settled in Gumei can find. Through the years and sacrifice of brave civilians settling in unknown city blocks, several regions have been established where the city does not change, or at least does not change in a drastic way.
Threshold contains the sole open city gate and it is guarded jealously by the Pink Wardens, former treasure hunters who realized that more money and power could be gleaned from taxing everything crossing the city's gates. They are hated and feared by those who unfortunately live in Threshold and are constantly under their sway. Pink Wardens all use halberds with additional adornment depending upon their rank. The buildings in Threshold have mostly been cleared of rubble and value, leaving empty concrete shells adorned with huge, metal sculptures of creatures that were once alive. Or are simply very patient.
The Street of Blue Lamps is one of the largest stable areas of the city, as the central Street and several blocks in each direction have never seemed to move. The Street is lined with glowing balls of cool, blue light and fountains spaced intermittently along the concourse provide music and fresh water. The buildings here were all built by residents with imported timber. Policing the inns and service-providers in the Street of Blue Lamps, the Knobbleheads are the self-fluffing neighborhood watch with a patented problem-solving strategy of sapping it on the head.
Terminus is the great subway station beneath the ground. Levels and levels of improvised storefronts, boutiques, and clinics. Anything can be bought and sold here, as long as the Wool Merchants get a piece of the take. A mafia with very poor taste in clothing, the Merchants say they control the action below ground. Of course, there are limits to their power. Below Terminus, the great tunnels reach to every corner of the city. The lights don't work very consistently, though, and there are a great many terrifying things that lurk in the dark.
The last of the civilized districts is Watermill, where the mighty river flowing from the mountains crashes through the sluices into the myriad pipes and tubes siphoning away the water's flow for purposes unknown. Quarters are cramped, wedged in between the pipes and scaffolding, and everything is grey or brass. In this industrial paradise, the Dargrim Institute and the Engineers compete to understand the city first. The Institute is a liberal arts college studying the underlying principles of the phenomena found in Gumei. The Engineers have little interest in the why's and only the how's of the devices and esoteries looted from the city. Both are ruthless in their pursuit of knowledge.
There is exactly one place in Gumei where grass grows and plants flower. However, plants are not the only thing that grow in Statuary - the district is named for the ever-increasing number of statues of horrified people and creatures that line the perimeter. Those few who have survived crossing the district after dark speak of masked Moon Cultists with a strange tube that turn people to stone. They cannot be found in daylight, leading some of the wizened scholars of Gumei to conclude that they must be allergic to sunlight, or can only eat moonbeams, or are very good at hiding.
In a city with so many ways to kill people, it is only expected that the children of those consumed by the city have somewhere to go. Unusually, children born in Gumei never get lost, nor do they seem to be surprised by the constantly shifting network of city blocks and access ways. In fact, they seem to be able to use any access point to appear anywhere. And they call Radiance their home. Built in a deep, flooded bowl, Radiance spirals around a forsaken carnival ground visible from almost anywhere in the city because of the giant Ferris wheel (powered by existential terror) at its center. The water is at times water, lava, acid, or simply an illusion, and the buildings sticking out of the murky depths are prowled by strange half-robots and silver-spinning mirror machines. Strangely enough, the city's minions seem to leave the urchins well enough alone.
Most of Gumei, however is not settled in even a loose sense of the word. Some great cataclysm wracked the city, toppling the once-great spires. In the ruins of these once-great buildings however, some truly amazing devices have been discovered - from wands that disintegrate metal to cloth lighter than silk yet stronger than steel. While the rest of the city is a self-serving murderopolis, the treasures found in the Ruins are worth it, to most. These artifacts are not without their protectors - from the flesh-eating green mold, the ambushing mold spiders, the yellow demihumans with long pointed teeth, and the surprisingly inopportune earthquakes, more have died than returned with treasure.
Last is the jewel of Gumei - Bulwark. Surrounded by a mystical barrier, a full quarter of the city remains standing, untouched by the cataclysm. No one has yet been inside, but through the yellow shield tall spires, flying metal machines, and strange floating orbs rise and fall. The journey to the field's edge is a dangerous one, but the lure of unspoiled goods has caused several well-known scholars and adventurers to waste their entire fortunes trying to gain entry.
Getting About
There are routes, mentioned earlier, between the major districts. These are (mostly) unchanging routes allowing slow but reliable transit from place to place. Those seeking a quicker or riskier route can contract with the urchins, who are always lurking about to take them through a back way.
Additional Threats and Points of Interest
Feral Infant Syndrome - sometimes children get the syndrome. They become violent and mischievous and will usually escape into the gap between spaces, only to reappear, years later, as one of the more violent urchin leaders in Radiance.
Turf wars between the various factions - the Wool Merchants control the wealthiest district and both the Pink Wardens and the Knobbleheads are seeking to move in on their turf. A war between the Dargrim Institute and the Engineers could lead to wide-scale murder and destruction, as both wield terrifying powers and artifacts.
Mutating urchins. Some of the urchins have gained the ability to alter the space they exit as they leave it. For example, chest-bursting someone they don't like. Remember that the oldest urchin is 12.
There is a city on the edge of a far mountain range ringed by pink walls a mile high. Twelve years ago, the gate to the city opened and treasure-seekers and fortune-hunters galore piled into the city. Some of them made it out, bringing with them terrifying stories and incomprehensible devices and lore. And more came to the city, supporting the adventuring class constantly picking through the ruins.
The city has many ways of killing people. The first is perhaps the least obvious: the city never sleeps. In great chunks, city blocks lift up, rotate, translate, and settle back down. There is no pattern to the city's movements, at least none that the wizened sages who have settled in Gumei can find. Through the years and sacrifice of brave civilians settling in unknown city blocks, several regions have been established where the city does not change, or at least does not change in a drastic way.
Threshold contains the sole open city gate and it is guarded jealously by the Pink Wardens, former treasure hunters who realized that more money and power could be gleaned from taxing everything crossing the city's gates. They are hated and feared by those who unfortunately live in Threshold and are constantly under their sway. Pink Wardens all use halberds with additional adornment depending upon their rank. The buildings in Threshold have mostly been cleared of rubble and value, leaving empty concrete shells adorned with huge, metal sculptures of creatures that were once alive. Or are simply very patient.
The Street of Blue Lamps is one of the largest stable areas of the city, as the central Street and several blocks in each direction have never seemed to move. The Street is lined with glowing balls of cool, blue light and fountains spaced intermittently along the concourse provide music and fresh water. The buildings here were all built by residents with imported timber. Policing the inns and service-providers in the Street of Blue Lamps, the Knobbleheads are the self-fluffing neighborhood watch with a patented problem-solving strategy of sapping it on the head.
Terminus is the great subway station beneath the ground. Levels and levels of improvised storefronts, boutiques, and clinics. Anything can be bought and sold here, as long as the Wool Merchants get a piece of the take. A mafia with very poor taste in clothing, the Merchants say they control the action below ground. Of course, there are limits to their power. Below Terminus, the great tunnels reach to every corner of the city. The lights don't work very consistently, though, and there are a great many terrifying things that lurk in the dark.
The last of the civilized districts is Watermill, where the mighty river flowing from the mountains crashes through the sluices into the myriad pipes and tubes siphoning away the water's flow for purposes unknown. Quarters are cramped, wedged in between the pipes and scaffolding, and everything is grey or brass. In this industrial paradise, the Dargrim Institute and the Engineers compete to understand the city first. The Institute is a liberal arts college studying the underlying principles of the phenomena found in Gumei. The Engineers have little interest in the why's and only the how's of the devices and esoteries looted from the city. Both are ruthless in their pursuit of knowledge.
There is exactly one place in Gumei where grass grows and plants flower. However, plants are not the only thing that grow in Statuary - the district is named for the ever-increasing number of statues of horrified people and creatures that line the perimeter. Those few who have survived crossing the district after dark speak of masked Moon Cultists with a strange tube that turn people to stone. They cannot be found in daylight, leading some of the wizened scholars of Gumei to conclude that they must be allergic to sunlight, or can only eat moonbeams, or are very good at hiding.
In a city with so many ways to kill people, it is only expected that the children of those consumed by the city have somewhere to go. Unusually, children born in Gumei never get lost, nor do they seem to be surprised by the constantly shifting network of city blocks and access ways. In fact, they seem to be able to use any access point to appear anywhere. And they call Radiance their home. Built in a deep, flooded bowl, Radiance spirals around a forsaken carnival ground visible from almost anywhere in the city because of the giant Ferris wheel (powered by existential terror) at its center. The water is at times water, lava, acid, or simply an illusion, and the buildings sticking out of the murky depths are prowled by strange half-robots and silver-spinning mirror machines. Strangely enough, the city's minions seem to leave the urchins well enough alone.
Most of Gumei, however is not settled in even a loose sense of the word. Some great cataclysm wracked the city, toppling the once-great spires. In the ruins of these once-great buildings however, some truly amazing devices have been discovered - from wands that disintegrate metal to cloth lighter than silk yet stronger than steel. While the rest of the city is a self-serving murderopolis, the treasures found in the Ruins are worth it, to most. These artifacts are not without their protectors - from the flesh-eating green mold, the ambushing mold spiders, the yellow demihumans with long pointed teeth, and the surprisingly inopportune earthquakes, more have died than returned with treasure.
Last is the jewel of Gumei - Bulwark. Surrounded by a mystical barrier, a full quarter of the city remains standing, untouched by the cataclysm. No one has yet been inside, but through the yellow shield tall spires, flying metal machines, and strange floating orbs rise and fall. The journey to the field's edge is a dangerous one, but the lure of unspoiled goods has caused several well-known scholars and adventurers to waste their entire fortunes trying to gain entry.
Getting About
There are routes, mentioned earlier, between the major districts. These are (mostly) unchanging routes allowing slow but reliable transit from place to place. Those seeking a quicker or riskier route can contract with the urchins, who are always lurking about to take them through a back way.
Additional Threats and Points of Interest
Feral Infant Syndrome - sometimes children get the syndrome. They become violent and mischievous and will usually escape into the gap between spaces, only to reappear, years later, as one of the more violent urchin leaders in Radiance.
Turf wars between the various factions - the Wool Merchants control the wealthiest district and both the Pink Wardens and the Knobbleheads are seeking to move in on their turf. A war between the Dargrim Institute and the Engineers could lead to wide-scale murder and destruction, as both wield terrifying powers and artifacts.
Mutating urchins. Some of the urchins have gained the ability to alter the space they exit as they leave it. For example, chest-bursting someone they don't like. Remember that the oldest urchin is 12.
Monday, August 10, 2015
Shields and Things
I was reading Delta's blog earlier today and found this interesting question: what do shields mean in an RPG context?
Delta brings up a couple of excellent historical examples detailing the triangle of medieval warfare: archers beat cavalry which beat infantry which beat archers. However, in D&D, this triangle is inverted due to how the system mechanically treats each grouping - the shield's powerful protections are ignored, and the horse's frailty is replaced by incredible strength.
Now, Delta's conclusion is that there is not a way to fix this without mucking about with the core rules of D&D, but I'm not so sure.
Fixing Shields:
The most prevalent house rule I've seen for shields is Trollsmyth's Shields Be Splintered, which allows a character to negate all damage from an attack by sacrificing their shield. From a realism standpoint, this makes a lot of sense for characters in mêlée combat wielding shields. However, this does not capture the reality of a proper shield wall that, at least in the Battle of Hastings, prevented the entire front line from being damaged by arrows.
Here is my suggestion: if an archer fires at a shield-bearing character, the shield grants cover to the defender. Rather than incorporate a % roll, if the d20 attack roll does not show a 17 or higher (for roll high systems), the arrow attack has no effect. Every adjacent shield-bearing character increases this threshold by 1 (so having a character to the left, right, and behind holding the shield high increases the threshold to 20 out of 20. Alternatively, an archer may only successfully hit a shield-wearing character on a critical hit.
For Prodigy, since the dice rolled depends upon the discipline's level, I'd probably just increase the difficulty to hit by 1 step.
Addressing Horses:
Let's look at how horses operate in the real world. As I understand it, cavalry were the glass cannons of medieval warfare - when able to use their superior mobility, they were unmatched, but conditions that made them stop moving absolutely slaughtered them. They are also very sensitive to terrain hazards - a general would not deploy cavalry in a marsh or bog because most of the horses would break their legs.
How do we incorporate this into D&D? Well, a proper hit to a horse's leg will incapacitate it, bringing it down and throwing the rider. This suggests that the AC of the rider and mount ought to be differentiated, with the horse's AC depending on how much they have moved - a horse at full gallop is much harder to hit than a walking horse. Horses, being large, ought to have low AC unless wearing barding (which would also limit the top speed of the horse). According to Wikipedia, we have the following horse gaits and speeds:
My initial solution is to make the AC of the horse depend heavily upon how far the horse moved in the previous round. Perhaps moving with only a walk grants a +2 bonus, trot +4, canter +6, and gallop +8. Ideally, a horse moving at a canter or gallop is practically impossible to hit.
Now, for terrain hazards, apply the bonus as a penalty - a horse moving at a gallop would then have a -8 penalty on all saves pertaining to the terrain.
For Prodigy, each category would make attacking a mounted character one step harder.
Next time I get a player willing to fight on horseback or use a shield, I'll have some rules to test.
Delta brings up a couple of excellent historical examples detailing the triangle of medieval warfare: archers beat cavalry which beat infantry which beat archers. However, in D&D, this triangle is inverted due to how the system mechanically treats each grouping - the shield's powerful protections are ignored, and the horse's frailty is replaced by incredible strength.
Now, Delta's conclusion is that there is not a way to fix this without mucking about with the core rules of D&D, but I'm not so sure.
Fixing Shields:
The most prevalent house rule I've seen for shields is Trollsmyth's Shields Be Splintered, which allows a character to negate all damage from an attack by sacrificing their shield. From a realism standpoint, this makes a lot of sense for characters in mêlée combat wielding shields. However, this does not capture the reality of a proper shield wall that, at least in the Battle of Hastings, prevented the entire front line from being damaged by arrows.
Here is my suggestion: if an archer fires at a shield-bearing character, the shield grants cover to the defender. Rather than incorporate a % roll, if the d20 attack roll does not show a 17 or higher (for roll high systems), the arrow attack has no effect. Every adjacent shield-bearing character increases this threshold by 1 (so having a character to the left, right, and behind holding the shield high increases the threshold to 20 out of 20. Alternatively, an archer may only successfully hit a shield-wearing character on a critical hit.
For Prodigy, since the dice rolled depends upon the discipline's level, I'd probably just increase the difficulty to hit by 1 step.
Addressing Horses:
Let's look at how horses operate in the real world. As I understand it, cavalry were the glass cannons of medieval warfare - when able to use their superior mobility, they were unmatched, but conditions that made them stop moving absolutely slaughtered them. They are also very sensitive to terrain hazards - a general would not deploy cavalry in a marsh or bog because most of the horses would break their legs.
How do we incorporate this into D&D? Well, a proper hit to a horse's leg will incapacitate it, bringing it down and throwing the rider. This suggests that the AC of the rider and mount ought to be differentiated, with the horse's AC depending on how much they have moved - a horse at full gallop is much harder to hit than a walking horse. Horses, being large, ought to have low AC unless wearing barding (which would also limit the top speed of the horse). According to Wikipedia, we have the following horse gaits and speeds:
|
Gait
|
Mph
|
12 seconds (feet)
|
6 seconds (feet)
|
3 seconds (feet)
|
|
Walk
|
4
|
71
|
35
|
18
|
|
Trot
|
8
|
141
|
70
|
35
|
|
Canter
|
10-17
|
176-299
|
88-150
|
44-75
|
|
Gallop
|
25-30
|
440-528
|
220-264
|
110-132
|
My initial solution is to make the AC of the horse depend heavily upon how far the horse moved in the previous round. Perhaps moving with only a walk grants a +2 bonus, trot +4, canter +6, and gallop +8. Ideally, a horse moving at a canter or gallop is practically impossible to hit.
Now, for terrain hazards, apply the bonus as a penalty - a horse moving at a gallop would then have a -8 penalty on all saves pertaining to the terrain.
For Prodigy, each category would make attacking a mounted character one step harder.
Next time I get a player willing to fight on horseback or use a shield, I'll have some rules to test.
Saturday, July 25, 2015
Pillow Fighting in RPGs - Better Combat Rules
Spacing, in general, has always struck me as problematic in RPGs. The 5' square standard in 3.x is, in my opinion, an absurd figure, albeit one building upon the game's earlier editions. Having several years of hand-to-hand sparring experience, and a fair amount of stage combat and boffing practice, I feel like I know at least a bit about fighting with medieval weapons, and on a practical level, 5' is a humongous amount of space. Looking at how the sizing works out, it seems like combatants are like electrons attached to separate nuclei - they are somewhere within a huge area and occasionally collide at the edge of their respective areas.
Part of the problem is that I don't think a lot of people understand how large a 5' x 5' square is - it's about the size of a queen sized bed. So a typical combat in 3.x features two queen-sized beds next to each other with a single person standing on top armed with a weapon of choice swinging at each other, but not allowed to step onto the other person's bed. Since a lot of us RPGers may not have a lot of experience swinging swords about, instead imagine that everyone has pillows instead of swords and you are embarking in an epic pillow fight on top of these two, side by side, queen beds (a standard pillow is about 2' long, which could be the length of a dagger or short sword, but the way in which one uses a pillow during a friendly pillow squabble gives you about the same reach as you would have with a longsword or katana). Think about the mechanics of a pillow fight (or, better yet, go find someone to fight with for a little while). Chances are, you'll just have one bed (although it could be a slightly larger one, but still far smaller than two adjacent 5' squares), and you'll probably also find that two pillow fighters can have quite the rousing fight on top of that one bed, advancing, retreating, and running all around. On a queen bed, two combatants standing on opposite corners could stand quite comfortably in a combat stance without being able to engage, unless someone moves towards the center. So, two combatants can share a 5' square and fight fairly well, being able to move around and shift positions. In fact, if each fighter were confined to a single queen bed, the space in which both fighters could engage is relatively small.
I'd like to see fighting in RPGs play out like it does in the real-world, with advancing, retreating, side-stepping, and the like. By hand-waving all of that motion away into the massive empty space of the 5' square, combat loses a great deal of the strategic elements that make it appealing, at least to myself. Think of this another way - as a spellcaster in combat, you are evaluating the spacing of opponents across the battlefield combined with an analysis of the terrain to find the place where your spells with have the most impact. In the actual world, a fighter is doing the same thing but with their body - placing themselves in the area where they have the most control of the battlefield. Again, by using a 5' scale, fighters lose the finesse of their movement, since one cannot be halfway in one square and halfway in another.
Now, to make all of this happen, we need (straight-forward) rules for these maneuvers - reasons why a character might advance, retreat, sidestep, or hold their ground. Ways for characters to control the area around them (moving away from the paralyzing 3.x 'Attack of Opportunity').
Our first step, though, is to reduce the size of combat spacing. I use 1 yard hexes in Prodigy. I'm almost 5' 10'', and a 1 yard square is slightly larger in every direction than my typical sparring stance. If I'm unarmed, my attacks have to leave my hex and travel into my foe's, but if I have a weapon, that weapon is already poking into the hex in front of me. Let's talk about the implications of this scale. First, if two fighters each have weapons and are adjacent, their weapons are engaged - they are each within striking distance of each other, so they have to be actively dueling to keep from dying. They have enough room within the hexes to shuffle around a little bit, but any change of positioning requires stepping into an adjacent hex. This brings me to the next reason why I like the 1 yard hex - the average stride is a little less than 3'. So, stepping in any direction places you in a new 1' hex, and a lunge allows you to temporarily step into an adjacent hex to strike someone beyond it. Going back to how much room someone takes up inside the 1 yard hex, my fighting stance takes up almost the entirety of the space, so adding another person would make fighting incredibly difficult for both people sharing the hex. At least in my mind, changing the scale of combat already solves a number of the problems I have with the 5' square.
For games dependent upon the 5' square, just say each 5' square correlates to 1.5 1-yard hexes (or 2 hexes if you want to do slightly less number crunching). If counting, say the first 5' counts for 2 hexes, the second 5' counts for 1, the 3rd for 2 and so on (just like the diagonal rules in 3.x and 4th Edition).
Now, to differentiate advancing, retreating, sidestepping, and holding one's ground. These rules are still in rough draft form as I need to iron out the kinks. Suggestions would be welcome!
Advancing: if you advance on an adjacent character's hex, you are making a driving attack into their area. If they do not repel your assault through skill of arms, they will need to move in order to not be wounded. The easiest movement is a direct retreat in the same direction as the aggressor's advance, but this also allows the aggressor to continue advancing until the defender retreats to a wall or off of a cliff. Alternatively, the defender can step to the side, allowing the attacker past them. Fairly straight-forward.
When the aggressor advances upon the defender, they have a couple of possible responses. They can hold their ground, which is a Fighting Style test made one step harder than normal (in 3.x, the DC would be +5, in 5th Ed, they'd be at disadvantage, etc.) and if they fail they take damage or fall prone. If they retreat from the assault, which is a Fighting Style test made one step easier (DC -5, check made with advantage, etc.) and if they fail, they take damage, are driven backwards a number of hexes equal to the damage taken (damage is usually between 1-3 points), and the attacker may immediately make another advance if they wish. Their last option is to sidestep the attack, which is a standard Fighting Style test, and if they fail they just take damage.
Retreating: Fighting is hard. It is exhausting work. There's a reason boxing matches are divided into rounds with breaks in between. And boxers don't even wear armor! There are also tactical reasons to take a break while fighting - to size up your opponent and look for weaknesses. So to make retreating an important tactical choice, we have to add a combat fatigue system. The basic way this works is each character has a fatigue limit for actual fighting, and going beyond that begins to impair their ability to fight well. I'd probably use poker chips or something for this. Each round your character either attacks or is attacked, take a chip. If the chips you have exceed your character's limit, you start to underperform - maybe a cumulative -1 penalty to everything (so -1 the first round over, -2 the second, etc.).
Looking again at boxing, we see 2 minute rounds for professional women and amateur men and a 3 minute round for professional (male) fighters. Using the shorter time will probably make a better baseline, since we want rules that start with a reasonable expectation for fighters with a minimum of training and extend from there. Now, I claim little experience with boxing apart from hearing other people talk about it, so I went to the interwebs to see some boxing matches. Looking at this video, we see that they aren't actively engaged every second of every round - they spend a great deal of time maneuvering around the ring. They are only actively trading blows for maybe 3-6 seconds at a time before breaking apart and reevaluating. This maps to my sparring and boffing experience as well.
So, my simple fatigue rules are that a novice fighter can fight for maybe 2 rounds (my rounds are 3 seconds) before getting fatigue penalties. In Prodigy, the Athletics discipline represents a character's general level of physical fitness and can have from 0 to 15 notches (notches are representation of the time and effort spent improving that discipline with quantized skill tiers at 0, 1, 3, 6, 10, and 15 notches), so I'll add one round per notch. A professional boxer likely has 3-6 notches in Athletics, so the could all-out fight for 5-8 rounds or 15 to 24 seconds. Every round spent fighting after that limit incurs the penalty. Now, spending a round out of direct combat allows the character to reduce that fight count by 2.
Sidestepping: This is easy. As part of a standard attack, you have the choice of moving 1 hex in any direction as long as you end adjacent to your opponent. This becomes important when you apply facing rules. I assume that a character in a hex is always facing one of the edges of that hex. That edge and each edge adjacent to it are in the character's full view. Each edge adjacent to these is hard to see, making tests relating to those edges one step harder (+5 DC, etc.), and then the edge directly opposite the direction in which the character is facing is their blind spot and tests relating to that space are two steps harder (+10 DC, etc.).
Standing One's Ground: If you choose not to move, you are focusing more on defense than offense, so defensive actions you take are one step easier (+5 to AC, etc.).
Part of the problem is that I don't think a lot of people understand how large a 5' x 5' square is - it's about the size of a queen sized bed. So a typical combat in 3.x features two queen-sized beds next to each other with a single person standing on top armed with a weapon of choice swinging at each other, but not allowed to step onto the other person's bed. Since a lot of us RPGers may not have a lot of experience swinging swords about, instead imagine that everyone has pillows instead of swords and you are embarking in an epic pillow fight on top of these two, side by side, queen beds (a standard pillow is about 2' long, which could be the length of a dagger or short sword, but the way in which one uses a pillow during a friendly pillow squabble gives you about the same reach as you would have with a longsword or katana). Think about the mechanics of a pillow fight (or, better yet, go find someone to fight with for a little while). Chances are, you'll just have one bed (although it could be a slightly larger one, but still far smaller than two adjacent 5' squares), and you'll probably also find that two pillow fighters can have quite the rousing fight on top of that one bed, advancing, retreating, and running all around. On a queen bed, two combatants standing on opposite corners could stand quite comfortably in a combat stance without being able to engage, unless someone moves towards the center. So, two combatants can share a 5' square and fight fairly well, being able to move around and shift positions. In fact, if each fighter were confined to a single queen bed, the space in which both fighters could engage is relatively small.
I'd like to see fighting in RPGs play out like it does in the real-world, with advancing, retreating, side-stepping, and the like. By hand-waving all of that motion away into the massive empty space of the 5' square, combat loses a great deal of the strategic elements that make it appealing, at least to myself. Think of this another way - as a spellcaster in combat, you are evaluating the spacing of opponents across the battlefield combined with an analysis of the terrain to find the place where your spells with have the most impact. In the actual world, a fighter is doing the same thing but with their body - placing themselves in the area where they have the most control of the battlefield. Again, by using a 5' scale, fighters lose the finesse of their movement, since one cannot be halfway in one square and halfway in another.
Now, to make all of this happen, we need (straight-forward) rules for these maneuvers - reasons why a character might advance, retreat, sidestep, or hold their ground. Ways for characters to control the area around them (moving away from the paralyzing 3.x 'Attack of Opportunity').
Our first step, though, is to reduce the size of combat spacing. I use 1 yard hexes in Prodigy. I'm almost 5' 10'', and a 1 yard square is slightly larger in every direction than my typical sparring stance. If I'm unarmed, my attacks have to leave my hex and travel into my foe's, but if I have a weapon, that weapon is already poking into the hex in front of me. Let's talk about the implications of this scale. First, if two fighters each have weapons and are adjacent, their weapons are engaged - they are each within striking distance of each other, so they have to be actively dueling to keep from dying. They have enough room within the hexes to shuffle around a little bit, but any change of positioning requires stepping into an adjacent hex. This brings me to the next reason why I like the 1 yard hex - the average stride is a little less than 3'. So, stepping in any direction places you in a new 1' hex, and a lunge allows you to temporarily step into an adjacent hex to strike someone beyond it. Going back to how much room someone takes up inside the 1 yard hex, my fighting stance takes up almost the entirety of the space, so adding another person would make fighting incredibly difficult for both people sharing the hex. At least in my mind, changing the scale of combat already solves a number of the problems I have with the 5' square.
For games dependent upon the 5' square, just say each 5' square correlates to 1.5 1-yard hexes (or 2 hexes if you want to do slightly less number crunching). If counting, say the first 5' counts for 2 hexes, the second 5' counts for 1, the 3rd for 2 and so on (just like the diagonal rules in 3.x and 4th Edition).
Now, to differentiate advancing, retreating, sidestepping, and holding one's ground. These rules are still in rough draft form as I need to iron out the kinks. Suggestions would be welcome!
Advancing: if you advance on an adjacent character's hex, you are making a driving attack into their area. If they do not repel your assault through skill of arms, they will need to move in order to not be wounded. The easiest movement is a direct retreat in the same direction as the aggressor's advance, but this also allows the aggressor to continue advancing until the defender retreats to a wall or off of a cliff. Alternatively, the defender can step to the side, allowing the attacker past them. Fairly straight-forward.
When the aggressor advances upon the defender, they have a couple of possible responses. They can hold their ground, which is a Fighting Style test made one step harder than normal (in 3.x, the DC would be +5, in 5th Ed, they'd be at disadvantage, etc.) and if they fail they take damage or fall prone. If they retreat from the assault, which is a Fighting Style test made one step easier (DC -5, check made with advantage, etc.) and if they fail, they take damage, are driven backwards a number of hexes equal to the damage taken (damage is usually between 1-3 points), and the attacker may immediately make another advance if they wish. Their last option is to sidestep the attack, which is a standard Fighting Style test, and if they fail they just take damage.
Retreating: Fighting is hard. It is exhausting work. There's a reason boxing matches are divided into rounds with breaks in between. And boxers don't even wear armor! There are also tactical reasons to take a break while fighting - to size up your opponent and look for weaknesses. So to make retreating an important tactical choice, we have to add a combat fatigue system. The basic way this works is each character has a fatigue limit for actual fighting, and going beyond that begins to impair their ability to fight well. I'd probably use poker chips or something for this. Each round your character either attacks or is attacked, take a chip. If the chips you have exceed your character's limit, you start to underperform - maybe a cumulative -1 penalty to everything (so -1 the first round over, -2 the second, etc.).
Looking again at boxing, we see 2 minute rounds for professional women and amateur men and a 3 minute round for professional (male) fighters. Using the shorter time will probably make a better baseline, since we want rules that start with a reasonable expectation for fighters with a minimum of training and extend from there. Now, I claim little experience with boxing apart from hearing other people talk about it, so I went to the interwebs to see some boxing matches. Looking at this video, we see that they aren't actively engaged every second of every round - they spend a great deal of time maneuvering around the ring. They are only actively trading blows for maybe 3-6 seconds at a time before breaking apart and reevaluating. This maps to my sparring and boffing experience as well.
So, my simple fatigue rules are that a novice fighter can fight for maybe 2 rounds (my rounds are 3 seconds) before getting fatigue penalties. In Prodigy, the Athletics discipline represents a character's general level of physical fitness and can have from 0 to 15 notches (notches are representation of the time and effort spent improving that discipline with quantized skill tiers at 0, 1, 3, 6, 10, and 15 notches), so I'll add one round per notch. A professional boxer likely has 3-6 notches in Athletics, so the could all-out fight for 5-8 rounds or 15 to 24 seconds. Every round spent fighting after that limit incurs the penalty. Now, spending a round out of direct combat allows the character to reduce that fight count by 2.
Sidestepping: This is easy. As part of a standard attack, you have the choice of moving 1 hex in any direction as long as you end adjacent to your opponent. This becomes important when you apply facing rules. I assume that a character in a hex is always facing one of the edges of that hex. That edge and each edge adjacent to it are in the character's full view. Each edge adjacent to these is hard to see, making tests relating to those edges one step harder (+5 DC, etc.), and then the edge directly opposite the direction in which the character is facing is their blind spot and tests relating to that space are two steps harder (+10 DC, etc.).
Standing One's Ground: If you choose not to move, you are focusing more on defense than offense, so defensive actions you take are one step easier (+5 to AC, etc.).
Monday, July 20, 2015
Magic in Prodigy
Probably due to the fact that magic does not exist, the interface between magic and reality is one of the most consistently glossed-over aspects in fantasy, especially when people try to feature classic wizard-y types shooting fire and lightning. There are two problems that I see happen, fairly frequently.
The first is the conflict between the magic available and the setting itself - Alexis talks several times about how the existence of magic destroys the circumstances required to proliferate gunpowder technology. The low-level availability of fire magic means that most 1st or 2nd level magic-users can destroy any centralized power depot. That is a failure to acknowledge the effect of magic on normally functioning historical processes. The other major issue I see with regard to settings is in settings that over-emphasize the effects of magic - placing mills in the middle of nowhere under the logic that the watermill runs off a Barrel of Everflowing Water or somesuch nonsense. The economics of powering most mills with minor artifacts does not work out, and it ultimately makes magic feel cheap because objects of great power are intentionally buried beneath a couple feet of cow dung to power the watermill.
The second conflict is between magic-using characters and characters who don't use magic. This was 'solved' in OD&D by creating rigid character roles based on class - fighters fight, thieves do thief things, and magic-users manipulate the minds of others and bend time and space... (although this was definitely mitigated by the relatively few number of spells known by any individual M-U). In 3.x, well, everything went a little crazy and there were ways for spellcasters to be better fighters than fighters or thieves than rogues, and it turned into a big bundle of DM-dependent crap (as in, depending upon DM style this might be a huge problem or a nonexistent one), and then 4th edition tried to make everyone a spellcaster. I think the problem stems from trying to recreate the magic of lore into a game system - this seems to have brought with it the belief that 'if something is interesting, it can be done with magic'.
My solution to both tines of this problem, setting-wise and character-wise, is to keep magic small and significant. If most people have no access to magic, then it can't have a dramatically derailing impact on technological development, and if each magic=using character can do incredible things but only in a limited sphere we allow magic to be a potent and interesting character choice without it being strictly superior from either a character's or player's perspective.
In Prodigy, there are 4.5 paths to magical power. The first is through devotion to culture-specific higher concepts, and each concept grants a small number of boons (no more than 4) appropriate to that culture. So, mediums of the Order, a religion devoted to peace and nonviolence, psychically emanate an aura of peace that forces everyone nearby to cease any forms of aggression. More powerful boons are unlocked as the character becomes more devout and more fully understands the intricacies of their chosen faith.
The second path to power is in studying the maddening magics of the Sidh. This grants mastery over the minds of others but comes with two considerable costs. The first is that every single society but two (and they are the most marginalized and least powerful of all the societies) will instantly put to death practitioners of this form of magic. The second is that as the character becomes skilled in this magic, their bodies transform into that of a Sidh, making detection much more likely. Also, silver completely blocks this power from working, so most powerful people wear some kind of silver jewelry.
The .5th route is that of ritual magics which are utilitarian and wholly static - a ritual functions for one person in exactly the same way it functions for another. They also require costly components. Their effects range from creating magical wands that shoot fire to granting the ability to breathe water or levitate. They are useful, but serve to enable the party rather than supplant an existing character. They are also (in an OD&D fashion) limited - most characters will only know a scattered few of these rituals.
The 3rd and 4th paths involve embedding what is believed to be a shard of solid magic directly into the potential adept and hoping that the process does not drive them criminally insane and begin a magic-fueled murder spree. Those who have these shards are understandably reluctant to hand them out to anyone, and they too have limited powers. There are two kinds of shards, Energy & Matter and Time & Space. Energy & Matter is very war magic-y, allowing the adept to throw bolts of lightning or rearrange the earth while Time & Space governs magical healing, alternate dimensions, and rapid transit. Each shard grants access to half a dozen powers and while they are cool, they also come with a considerable physical cost - every power used after the 3rd starts draining health.
As I've mentioned before, skill in any discipline is increased by spending both coin and years of training - at least 6 months of training. What that means is that most characters don't have the time to master any of these pathways, much less two of them. At least in theory.
Here is where playtesting will stand me in good stead. I've only had players pursue shard magic, so while I've a pretty good idea how that plays out, the other two are currently just dreams in my brain and words in my rulebook. Whenever someone decides to try these things out, I'll know a lot more about how they work in practice.
The first is the conflict between the magic available and the setting itself - Alexis talks several times about how the existence of magic destroys the circumstances required to proliferate gunpowder technology. The low-level availability of fire magic means that most 1st or 2nd level magic-users can destroy any centralized power depot. That is a failure to acknowledge the effect of magic on normally functioning historical processes. The other major issue I see with regard to settings is in settings that over-emphasize the effects of magic - placing mills in the middle of nowhere under the logic that the watermill runs off a Barrel of Everflowing Water or somesuch nonsense. The economics of powering most mills with minor artifacts does not work out, and it ultimately makes magic feel cheap because objects of great power are intentionally buried beneath a couple feet of cow dung to power the watermill.
The second conflict is between magic-using characters and characters who don't use magic. This was 'solved' in OD&D by creating rigid character roles based on class - fighters fight, thieves do thief things, and magic-users manipulate the minds of others and bend time and space... (although this was definitely mitigated by the relatively few number of spells known by any individual M-U). In 3.x, well, everything went a little crazy and there were ways for spellcasters to be better fighters than fighters or thieves than rogues, and it turned into a big bundle of DM-dependent crap (as in, depending upon DM style this might be a huge problem or a nonexistent one), and then 4th edition tried to make everyone a spellcaster. I think the problem stems from trying to recreate the magic of lore into a game system - this seems to have brought with it the belief that 'if something is interesting, it can be done with magic'.
My solution to both tines of this problem, setting-wise and character-wise, is to keep magic small and significant. If most people have no access to magic, then it can't have a dramatically derailing impact on technological development, and if each magic=using character can do incredible things but only in a limited sphere we allow magic to be a potent and interesting character choice without it being strictly superior from either a character's or player's perspective.
In Prodigy, there are 4.5 paths to magical power. The first is through devotion to culture-specific higher concepts, and each concept grants a small number of boons (no more than 4) appropriate to that culture. So, mediums of the Order, a religion devoted to peace and nonviolence, psychically emanate an aura of peace that forces everyone nearby to cease any forms of aggression. More powerful boons are unlocked as the character becomes more devout and more fully understands the intricacies of their chosen faith.
The second path to power is in studying the maddening magics of the Sidh. This grants mastery over the minds of others but comes with two considerable costs. The first is that every single society but two (and they are the most marginalized and least powerful of all the societies) will instantly put to death practitioners of this form of magic. The second is that as the character becomes skilled in this magic, their bodies transform into that of a Sidh, making detection much more likely. Also, silver completely blocks this power from working, so most powerful people wear some kind of silver jewelry.
The .5th route is that of ritual magics which are utilitarian and wholly static - a ritual functions for one person in exactly the same way it functions for another. They also require costly components. Their effects range from creating magical wands that shoot fire to granting the ability to breathe water or levitate. They are useful, but serve to enable the party rather than supplant an existing character. They are also (in an OD&D fashion) limited - most characters will only know a scattered few of these rituals.
The 3rd and 4th paths involve embedding what is believed to be a shard of solid magic directly into the potential adept and hoping that the process does not drive them criminally insane and begin a magic-fueled murder spree. Those who have these shards are understandably reluctant to hand them out to anyone, and they too have limited powers. There are two kinds of shards, Energy & Matter and Time & Space. Energy & Matter is very war magic-y, allowing the adept to throw bolts of lightning or rearrange the earth while Time & Space governs magical healing, alternate dimensions, and rapid transit. Each shard grants access to half a dozen powers and while they are cool, they also come with a considerable physical cost - every power used after the 3rd starts draining health.
As I've mentioned before, skill in any discipline is increased by spending both coin and years of training - at least 6 months of training. What that means is that most characters don't have the time to master any of these pathways, much less two of them. At least in theory.
Here is where playtesting will stand me in good stead. I've only had players pursue shard magic, so while I've a pretty good idea how that plays out, the other two are currently just dreams in my brain and words in my rulebook. Whenever someone decides to try these things out, I'll know a lot more about how they work in practice.
Saturday, June 20, 2015
Guilds
For those of you who don't know, the time period referred to as 'medieval' stretches a rather huge swathe of time, beginning in the 5th century and ending in the 15th (thanks, Wikipedia!). Lasting over a thousand years means that there are some rather significant differences between the early Middle Ages and the late Middle Ages in both technology and infrastructure. For example, the Catholic Church did not dominate all of Europe until after Charlemagne's campaigns united Europe in the late 8th and early 9th centuries, and Luther's 99 Theses were nailed to the church door in the early 1500s.
On an economic level, over the Middle Ages, we see the rise of the guild system, which is essentially the beginning of the idea of a middle class. In pure feudalism, there are two classes of people - the leader/protector class and the peasant/serf class. As feudalism developed, the tiers expanded: the leader tier gained additional lower-status ranks (King to Duke to Marquess to Earl to Viscount to Baron in the English system), while the peasant group grew upwardly with the rise of towns and the increasing need for dedicated craftspeople.
The urban framework was one of the most important developments of this period (as opposed to the castle-town system wherein a central point of defense was surrounded by a few necessary industries (metalworkers, etc.) and enough fields to support the community), and I'm defining it as a densely populated geographical location where the primary occupation of the majority of its denizens is not agriculture in some form or another - that is, townspeople make their living through activities other than farming/food production. Usually, this alternative occupation was a craft or trade of some kind where the individual bartered their particular skillset for coin (and then for food) - joiners built furniture, coopers barrels, masons foundations, etc. Obviously, furniture, barrels, and foundations were made long before these dedicated craftspeople came along - most folks had enough know-how to cobble together what they needed. What these artisans offered was an easier and (theoretically) higher-quality product allowing these noncrafters more time to devote to their primary trade. We see the ramifications of this today when most of us have trouble repairing the utilities that enable our way of living (fixing a microwave oven, toilet, etc.) without calling an 'expert'. The trades of plumber, electrician, and so on are the descendants of this artisan tradition. Cooking is the most recent trade to be appropriated by craftspeople - many people still know how to cook, but that number is decreasing.
Returning to the Middle Ages, these artisans formed organizations to fix prices, control the market, and disadvantage competing groups (a fusion of union and CEO). Due to this, guilds gained rather considerable economic power very quickly, enough to influence the rising judicial system to pass laws favorable to the guilds (such as laws requiring a guild license in order to practice the guild trade). Guilds created monopolies on most trade goods and eventually gained enough power to upset the feudal system and take over political, economic, and social control of European society (extending from the Middle Ages through the Enlightenment and into today).
The foundations of this guild takeover were laid during the Middle Ages with the rise of urban centers. So, guilds deserve a rather important place in any historically-influenced fantasy setting referring to this time period. Any cities existing outside the normative feudal framework were probably founded by wealthy guilds seeking a place to ply their trades without paying the hefty taxes levied by their noble overlords. Within an urban center, guilds have as much or more influence as the local noble.
As the number of guilds grows in your setting and guilds splinter into more specialized organizations, friction will develop between groups as they compete for resources and markets - a brewer knows enough to make a passable wine, potentially undercutting the Vintner's Guild set price, which would destabilize the Vintner's Guild and garner power for the Brewer's Guild. If the Vintner's Guild discovered what was happening, they might expand into the brewing of ales and beers or (more likely) hire some bruisers to smash up the guilty brewer's brewery. The Brewer's Guild would retaliate, and all of a sudden we've a city-wide conflict between two wealthy, powerful groups each looking to hire men and women with a penchant for violence. Starting to see why guilds are a useful component for your world?
The purpose of this post, however, was to look at how we might use combine guilds with Alexis' economic system. As I understand it, Alexis' encyclopedic approach gives him references for goods, both raw and manufactured. Since I don't have such a phenomenal resource for my made-up world, I need to improvise. I have 2 choices: make it up - create a list of all the goods I wish to be available and then arbitrarily decide how many references each location has - or use these guilds - decide, based upon resource availability and synergy which guilds are in ascendance in each of my major population centers using my 0-3 scale for raw resource production, and use that as my reference or each affiliated trade good.
In case you hadn't guessed it, I'm going to go for the second approach. This means that I need a list of guilds wherein each guild is broad enough to encompass the wide range of goods necessary for me to run my game yet specific enough that by choosing my guilds carefully I can start to give each city a unique flavor (having a metalsmithing guild, woodcrafting guild, stoneworking guild, and randomcrap guild would not be discerning enough, but having a tinsmith, coppersmith, zincsmith, bronzesmith, coppersmith, ironsmith, steelsmith, goldsmith, silversmith, pewtersmith, etc. is too specific). I have my list and am in the process of implementing it. We'll see how it works.
On an economic level, over the Middle Ages, we see the rise of the guild system, which is essentially the beginning of the idea of a middle class. In pure feudalism, there are two classes of people - the leader/protector class and the peasant/serf class. As feudalism developed, the tiers expanded: the leader tier gained additional lower-status ranks (King to Duke to Marquess to Earl to Viscount to Baron in the English system), while the peasant group grew upwardly with the rise of towns and the increasing need for dedicated craftspeople.
The urban framework was one of the most important developments of this period (as opposed to the castle-town system wherein a central point of defense was surrounded by a few necessary industries (metalworkers, etc.) and enough fields to support the community), and I'm defining it as a densely populated geographical location where the primary occupation of the majority of its denizens is not agriculture in some form or another - that is, townspeople make their living through activities other than farming/food production. Usually, this alternative occupation was a craft or trade of some kind where the individual bartered their particular skillset for coin (and then for food) - joiners built furniture, coopers barrels, masons foundations, etc. Obviously, furniture, barrels, and foundations were made long before these dedicated craftspeople came along - most folks had enough know-how to cobble together what they needed. What these artisans offered was an easier and (theoretically) higher-quality product allowing these noncrafters more time to devote to their primary trade. We see the ramifications of this today when most of us have trouble repairing the utilities that enable our way of living (fixing a microwave oven, toilet, etc.) without calling an 'expert'. The trades of plumber, electrician, and so on are the descendants of this artisan tradition. Cooking is the most recent trade to be appropriated by craftspeople - many people still know how to cook, but that number is decreasing.
Returning to the Middle Ages, these artisans formed organizations to fix prices, control the market, and disadvantage competing groups (a fusion of union and CEO). Due to this, guilds gained rather considerable economic power very quickly, enough to influence the rising judicial system to pass laws favorable to the guilds (such as laws requiring a guild license in order to practice the guild trade). Guilds created monopolies on most trade goods and eventually gained enough power to upset the feudal system and take over political, economic, and social control of European society (extending from the Middle Ages through the Enlightenment and into today).
The foundations of this guild takeover were laid during the Middle Ages with the rise of urban centers. So, guilds deserve a rather important place in any historically-influenced fantasy setting referring to this time period. Any cities existing outside the normative feudal framework were probably founded by wealthy guilds seeking a place to ply their trades without paying the hefty taxes levied by their noble overlords. Within an urban center, guilds have as much or more influence as the local noble.
As the number of guilds grows in your setting and guilds splinter into more specialized organizations, friction will develop between groups as they compete for resources and markets - a brewer knows enough to make a passable wine, potentially undercutting the Vintner's Guild set price, which would destabilize the Vintner's Guild and garner power for the Brewer's Guild. If the Vintner's Guild discovered what was happening, they might expand into the brewing of ales and beers or (more likely) hire some bruisers to smash up the guilty brewer's brewery. The Brewer's Guild would retaliate, and all of a sudden we've a city-wide conflict between two wealthy, powerful groups each looking to hire men and women with a penchant for violence. Starting to see why guilds are a useful component for your world?
The purpose of this post, however, was to look at how we might use combine guilds with Alexis' economic system. As I understand it, Alexis' encyclopedic approach gives him references for goods, both raw and manufactured. Since I don't have such a phenomenal resource for my made-up world, I need to improvise. I have 2 choices: make it up - create a list of all the goods I wish to be available and then arbitrarily decide how many references each location has - or use these guilds - decide, based upon resource availability and synergy which guilds are in ascendance in each of my major population centers using my 0-3 scale for raw resource production, and use that as my reference or each affiliated trade good.
In case you hadn't guessed it, I'm going to go for the second approach. This means that I need a list of guilds wherein each guild is broad enough to encompass the wide range of goods necessary for me to run my game yet specific enough that by choosing my guilds carefully I can start to give each city a unique flavor (having a metalsmithing guild, woodcrafting guild, stoneworking guild, and randomcrap guild would not be discerning enough, but having a tinsmith, coppersmith, zincsmith, bronzesmith, coppersmith, ironsmith, steelsmith, goldsmith, silversmith, pewtersmith, etc. is too specific). I have my list and am in the process of implementing it. We'll see how it works.
Monday, June 8, 2015
Core Mechanics
Most modern games have a central mechanism that governs how players usually interact with the world - D&D 3.x had the d20 roll, GURPS has the 3d6 roll, FATE has its d10s, and so on. Now, OD&D and AD&D featured different interaction mechanics for different scenarios - martial combat and saving throws used the d20 roll-under, as did ability checks, but the all-important reaction roll was determined by 2d6+Cha mod. I'm sure there are other mechanics I am forgetting, since I am not as familiar with OD&D and AD&D.
All of these mechanics (except FATE) function similarly: [di(c)e roll] + [modifier] ~ [difficulty value] (where ~ is a relation corresponding to either greater-than-or-equal-to or less-than-or-equal-to, and the modifier can either be a positive number or a negative number, usually dependent upon the identity of ~). I don't think this is controversial. Typically, the DV will increase with the scale of the feat required, and the modifier will correlate with the character's ability for that task (as the character gets better at something, their magnifier will increase). Usually, the dice used will stay fixed, although FATE and dice pool systems are the obvious exception to this; such systems tend to change the number of dice rolled according to character skill and demand a number of 'successes' depending upon the difficulty of the task attempted (and the value required to count as a 'success' can also vary based upon this task difficulty). For example, in FATE, a character with 4 Brawl rolls 4d10 when attempting to apply brute force in combat, and count as a success any die resulting in 8, 9, or 10, a failure any die of value 1, 2, or 3, and neutral any die in between (failures cancel out successes). Depending upon the defenses of the target, the number of successes required will fluctuate.
Lastly, I wanted to discuss the system presented here. As I understand it, it is the current foundation of C's current skill system over on www.hacknslash.BlogSpot.com, and it was highly influential in the creation of the Prodigy discipline system. The gist of it is that there are different tiers of experience and that as one progresses these tiers, one rolls a larger and larger die. This is a truly elegant skill system. To me, though, it does have one unfortunate flaw.
In the real world, three things tend to happen as a person becomes more skilled. The first is that the person is able to accomplish more impressive feats - a skilled cook can prepare a much more remarkable meal than a novice from the same ingredients. Second is that the person's failures tend to be less catastrophic - a novice's meal might actually poison you while a skilled cook's failure might just taste bad. These first two things are accounted for in most of these systems - rolling a larger die or adding a larger number does increase the character's likelihood to succeed, and failed attempts will likely fail by less, so that works.
The third thing, though, I think is perhaps most important: skilled characters can more reliably produce the same results. One of the major problems of rolling single dice is that each value is equally likely - rolling a larger die increases the mean result, but critical failures are just as likely as critical successes, which are just as likely as any other possible value. For 3.x, I use 2d10 instead of 1d20 for this very reason. It is the combination of higher quality and more reliable work that makes skilled people more valuable.
If you watch reality TV shows like Project Runway, Make Me a Supermodel, Top Chef, etc. you'll see the judges weighing which is more important - the capacity to do great work or the ability to consistently create a good-quality product. Usually, the reliable people beat out the hit-or-miss geniuses. It is this last quality that is lacking from most resolution mechanics (GURPS, of course, is based on the 3d6 bell-curve but it has other issues [since most actions are opposed by other individuals and success is reliably attained, most turns are spent hoping the opponent screws up instead of wishing for the character to do well]).
Prodigy seeks to increase both consistency and the level of achievable results by summing an increasing number of dice together as the character improves. There are 6 tiers of skill: Novice, Apprentice, Journeyman, Specialist, Master, and Grandmaster. Someone with Novice knowledge of the skill is essentially untrained at it, whereas Grandmasters can perform superhuman feats (a la minor superheroes, demigods of myth, etc.). Tasks are rated along these criteria as well, so there are Apprentice difficulty tasks, Specialist difficulty tasks, and so on. The following table shows the dice rolled for each tier and the difficulty value for each category.
Now, the mean value of each roll is also the mode (except for novices, which is appropriate). Notches refer to how much training is required to reach the next level of skill. I'll keep those numbers to myself for now, since explaining that would take a great deal more time and space.
Hopefully these thoughts stimulate your own brains and/or whet your appetite for Prodigy.
All of these mechanics (except FATE) function similarly: [di(c)e roll] + [modifier] ~ [difficulty value] (where ~ is a relation corresponding to either greater-than-or-equal-to or less-than-or-equal-to, and the modifier can either be a positive number or a negative number, usually dependent upon the identity of ~). I don't think this is controversial. Typically, the DV will increase with the scale of the feat required, and the modifier will correlate with the character's ability for that task (as the character gets better at something, their magnifier will increase). Usually, the dice used will stay fixed, although FATE and dice pool systems are the obvious exception to this; such systems tend to change the number of dice rolled according to character skill and demand a number of 'successes' depending upon the difficulty of the task attempted (and the value required to count as a 'success' can also vary based upon this task difficulty). For example, in FATE, a character with 4 Brawl rolls 4d10 when attempting to apply brute force in combat, and count as a success any die resulting in 8, 9, or 10, a failure any die of value 1, 2, or 3, and neutral any die in between (failures cancel out successes). Depending upon the defenses of the target, the number of successes required will fluctuate.
Lastly, I wanted to discuss the system presented here. As I understand it, it is the current foundation of C's current skill system over on www.hacknslash.BlogSpot.com, and it was highly influential in the creation of the Prodigy discipline system. The gist of it is that there are different tiers of experience and that as one progresses these tiers, one rolls a larger and larger die. This is a truly elegant skill system. To me, though, it does have one unfortunate flaw.
In the real world, three things tend to happen as a person becomes more skilled. The first is that the person is able to accomplish more impressive feats - a skilled cook can prepare a much more remarkable meal than a novice from the same ingredients. Second is that the person's failures tend to be less catastrophic - a novice's meal might actually poison you while a skilled cook's failure might just taste bad. These first two things are accounted for in most of these systems - rolling a larger die or adding a larger number does increase the character's likelihood to succeed, and failed attempts will likely fail by less, so that works.
The third thing, though, I think is perhaps most important: skilled characters can more reliably produce the same results. One of the major problems of rolling single dice is that each value is equally likely - rolling a larger die increases the mean result, but critical failures are just as likely as critical successes, which are just as likely as any other possible value. For 3.x, I use 2d10 instead of 1d20 for this very reason. It is the combination of higher quality and more reliable work that makes skilled people more valuable.
If you watch reality TV shows like Project Runway, Make Me a Supermodel, Top Chef, etc. you'll see the judges weighing which is more important - the capacity to do great work or the ability to consistently create a good-quality product. Usually, the reliable people beat out the hit-or-miss geniuses. It is this last quality that is lacking from most resolution mechanics (GURPS, of course, is based on the 3d6 bell-curve but it has other issues [since most actions are opposed by other individuals and success is reliably attained, most turns are spent hoping the opponent screws up instead of wishing for the character to do well]).
Prodigy seeks to increase both consistency and the level of achievable results by summing an increasing number of dice together as the character improves. There are 6 tiers of skill: Novice, Apprentice, Journeyman, Specialist, Master, and Grandmaster. Someone with Novice knowledge of the skill is essentially untrained at it, whereas Grandmasters can perform superhuman feats (a la minor superheroes, demigods of myth, etc.). Tasks are rated along these criteria as well, so there are Apprentice difficulty tasks, Specialist difficulty tasks, and so on. The following table shows the dice rolled for each tier and the difficulty value for each category.
|
Discipline Level
|
Notches
|
Dice Rolled
|
Difficulty Value
|
|
Novice
|
0
|
1d6
|
3
|
|
Apprentice
|
1
|
1d4+1d6
|
6
|
|
Journeyman
|
3
|
2d4+1d6
|
9
|
|
Specialist
|
6
|
2d4+2d6
|
12
|
|
Master
|
10
|
3d4+2d6
|
15
|
|
Grandmaster
|
15
|
3d4+3d6
|
19
|
|
Discipline
Level
|
Notches
|
Dice
Rolled
|
Difficulty
Value
|
|
Novice
|
|
1d6
|
3
|
|
Apprentice
|
|
1d4+1d6
|
6
|
|
Journeyman
|
|
2d4+1d6
|
9
|
|
Specialist
|
|
2d4+2d6
|
12
|
|
Master
|
|
3d4+2d6
|
15
|
|
Grandmaster
|
|
3d4+3d6
|
19
|
Now, the mean value of each roll is also the mode (except for novices, which is appropriate). Notches refer to how much training is required to reach the next level of skill. I'll keep those numbers to myself for now, since explaining that would take a great deal more time and space.
Hopefully these thoughts stimulate your own brains and/or whet your appetite for Prodigy.
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