Archive for August, 2011


Weird Tables: Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!

Winter is nature’s way of saying, “Up yours.”
—Robert Byrne

Your humble reporter lives in New York City. This past weekend, while making real-world preparations for the arrival of Hurricane Irene, I was also making preparations for imaginary bad weather—the coming of winter in my Glantri game.

While the PCs were exploring Quasqueton at the end of January, the winter snows began in earnest. This typically shuts down all travel in the region until the spring thaw. Not wanting to spend the winter in a tiny border keep, some of the PCs decided that they’d set off through the deepening snows in hopes of reaching the capital before travel became impossible.

In order to resolve this dangerous choice, I created the


Roll 1d6 and apply your Constitution modifier, along with any other modifiers the DM deems appropriate.

Roll Result
0 or less DEATH: You die of exposure.
1 FALL: Your character slips on the ice and suffers a broken bone(s) or some other structural injury. Roll again with a cumulative -1 on all further rolls on this table. If you survive, you spend the rest of the winter recuperating from your injury.
2 WOLVES!: You are pursued by a pack of wolves. Roll (level + hit die size + prime requisite modifier) or less on a d20. If successful, you survive their onslaught; roll again. If you fail, you are devoured.
3 TAUNTAUN: Lost and without shelter, you are forced to take shelter for the winter inside the corpse of a large animal, such as a bear or elk. Save vs. spells or permanently lose one point of Wisdom due to body horror. Alternately, you may push on, getting a reroll at -2.
4 CAVE: You are forced to hole up in a cave for the rest of the winter. Save vs. poison or permanently lose one point of Constitution due to starvation. Alternately, you may push on, getting a reroll at -2.
5 HUT: You take shelter in an isolated farmstead. Pay the owner 50-100gp (or provide an equivalent amount of equipment) in exchange for sharing their limited winter stores of food. Alternately, you may push on, getting a reroll.
6 or more CITY: You successfully reach your destination.

Whereas many tables are solely for the use of the DM, this is one of those tables which players should view before rolling. Perhaps they’ll make the sensible decision and stay indoors!


Weird Tables: Your Weird Wish is Granted

Your wish is my commAHAHA I DEVOUR YOUR SOUL

After eleven dedicated sessions and five months of game time, a group of PCs in my game successfully petitioned a goddess of Chaos for her favor. Everyone had something they wanted from the goddess, either for themselves or for others — though more the former than the latter. But how does one resolve such an open-ended opportunity to wish for anything you like?

If you encounter such a situation in play — such as when dealing with a demon, efreet or imp — feel free to use the


Roll 1d6.

1: Something bad happens that’s unrelated to the wish.
2: Something bad happens that’s related to the wish.
3: Something weird happens that’s unrelated to the wish.
4: Something weird happens that’s related to the wish.
5: Something good happens that’s unrelated to the wish.
6: Something good happens that’s related to the wish.

To demonstrate the table’s use in play, here are some examples from last session.

A) The Ridiculossus, a living statue, declares that he wishes to be STRONGER! He rolls a 6: something good that’s related to his wish. Presto, his wish is granted! The DM rules that he may roll a d4 and permanently add the bonus to his Strength score. (This presumes that such wishes are rare; if they are commonplace in the campaign, the bonus would only have been a single point.)
B) Richard Loubeau, a tricksy thief-dabbler, craves the boon of being able to see in the dark. He rolls a 5: something good happens that’s unrelated to the wish. Instead of seeing in the dark of a room, he can see into the dark of people’s minds by gaining the ability to cast ESP once per day.
C) Ja’Tubis, a straying priest of a god of medicine, asks for insight into the effects of Chaos on the human frame. He rolls a 2: something bad and related to the wish. Insight comes as a flood of horrible images that will not stop, bombarding his fragile mind at every moment, day and night. After recovering from momentary catatonia, he loses 1d4 points of Wisdom from the perpetual distraction generated by his visions of shifting, writhing flesh and bone.
D) The swashbuckler Martin, who has been reduced to the size of a halfling by a potion miscibility incident, wishes to be restored to his former stature. “Bless my sword, that I may regain my former size and strength!” he proclaims. The roll is a 1: something bad and unrelated. As Martin’s player recklessly brought his sword into it, the goddess blesses his blade with a powerful ego and will. In his next combat, the jealous blade forces Martin to throw his magic shield away, for it will not allow him to carry anything else into battle!

… and come to think of it, of the seven PCs who petitioned the goddess, not one of them rolled a 3 or 4. I’ll leave the possibilities that might stem from such a roll as an exercise for the reader.


James Answers & Raises Interesting Questions for the OSR and RPGs

Chalkboard version of the flyer for the D&D installment of Ryan McGinness's 50 Parties series

Off the top of his head in the comments to my previous post, James sketches an outline of how to integrate the party game that hooks new players & the ongoing campaign that feeds the jones of experienced ones. (Other posters offered invaluable insights too, but I’m going to roll them into replying to James just for the sake of expediency; you can correctly assume I’ve thought over your individual points and am talking about them when it seems like I am, sorry for not addressing them personally!)

James wrote “this is really a design question”, although it’s really two design questions which he then proceeded to describe:

1.  Can you create an RPG that works as a party game?  What features must it have?  (Implied, because it is Tavis asking: can this be done with Dungeons & Dragons?)
* Newbie-friendly
* Drop-in / drop-out
* Satisfying resolution in, say, 30-60 minutes

James is right that doing this with D&D can be assumed if it’s me talking. This is for three reasons:

  • If you say “we’re going to play a game where you talk to the other players about what you should do in an imaginary situation, and then consult some dice and a referee to learn the consequences of your stated action”, newbies don’t know what you’re talking about. If you say “we’re playing Dungeons & Dragons”, they do.
  • This is the value of can this be done with Dungeons & Dragons we’re trying to solve for – or, if not a newbie, someone who was frozen in the year 1974 and just thawed to discover a wildly proliferated landscape of  ideas inspired by & related to Dungeons & Dragons, which are talked about in jargon like “role-playing games” that our time-traveller eventually learns to speak but secretly persists in thinking about as “variant ways to play D&D”.
  • No doubt there are people in this world whose souls do not thrill at the concept of vicariously going into a hole in the ground to confront the unknown, armed only with sword, spell, or prayer. Since I am not one of those people, I have no idea how to reach them. But I do know how to rock those three chords, so the best I can do is hope others can learn from my example how to make DIY punk out of their klezmer roots instead of my rhythm and blues.

These caveats aside, James has a great list of necessary features:

Newbie friendly. I think we have to solve for a general problem – “I don’t know what I’m doing but want to be encouraged to participate and respected for my contribution anyway” – and also a specific problem – “I am a member of a group that traditionally hasn’t well-represented in the roleplaying community.” Since I have the opposite of the latter problem (especially now that it’s my Decade of the Beard), the best I can do about it specifically is to try to get as much experience with under-represented players as possible and listen to them. Playing with kids is a big help here, as at least the 8-10 year olds don’t seem to know yet whether the game is stereotypically for them or not.

I do think that encouraging and respecting everyone’s contributions will go a long way toward making our community be more inclusive. It’s likely that there are things about the essence of D&D that intrinsically appeal more to one gender and culture. But women I’ve gamed with have told me enough about the barriers that they had to overcome to find a place for themselves (I’m told you can get a good taste of this by playing an anonymous, one-off first-person-shooter online with a female avatar) that I think we can’t begin to get a handle on how much this thing we love is attractive to other genders and cultures until we stop saying “for you, this thing also comes with an X% chance of 2d10 worth of intimidation and humiliation.”

This raises two other interesting questions:

  1. How can we get strangers to cooperate in creating the kind of super-awesome-let’s-pretend time that 8-year olds do so well (maybe this is paida, the power of improvisation and joy) and enable those who make the biggest contributions to get the most out of it, without marginalizing those who don’t feel ready to contribute as much?
  2. How can we provide the sense that the imaginary world, its dangers and consequences, is a real place and a worthy opponent  (maybe this is ludus, the taste for gratuitious difficulty) without enabling the thing that the 11-year-olds so quickly gravitate towards: D&D rocks because it gives me so many ways to quantify how I’m better than you, from my success in the imaginary situation to my mastery of the system to the attention I earn using my social/intellectual talents.

Drop-in/drop-out. Here I think we need not only “can come to one session but not others,” but also:

  • can roll in ninety minutes late like most people do at a party and still enjoy this D&D thing
  • can start playing without knowing whether it’s going to be fun & making a committment of time
  • offers frequent occasions to stop playing without losing face; it could be “my character just died, now I want to go get a beer” or “we finished this objective, now I’m going to go talk to my friends who aren’t playing” and not always “I’m disrupting everyone else’s fun when I get up and leave because I’ve had enough of this for now.”

For me, a Tower of Gygax session that’s firing on all cylinders is the archetype of this experience. I forget that others may not have experienced this & I haven’t described it well. Basically six people are sitting down with character sheets in front of them, facing a highly lethal challenge of player skill and luck. A bunch of other people are waiting in line for their turn to play. This comes when one of the characters is killed; that player gets up from the table (although they may get back in line to play again), and the person at the head of the line sits down in their still-warm seat and gives a new name to the character sheet in front of them. If y’all know of other things that are like this, let me know!

This suggests another important value for drop-in/drop-out:

  • is engaging for people that are in the audience. Funny things happen in good Tower of Gygax events, it’s fun to listen so you get the jokes.  And you’ll be in the imagined situation sooner or later; if you hope to survive longer than your predecessor when you get to the table, it pays to listen carefully. Some of the ToG events I’ve done have had audience interactions by design, like “Peanut gallery: give me something that might happen as a result of this fumble,” and there’s always the basic level of interaction: “Hey, seated player, here’s a suggestion for what to do next that might get you killed so I can take over!”

Perhaps because he finds it dismaying when he sees that Spiderman comics are still telling the same story hundreds of issues later whereasI find one of the most compelling aspects of the Chronicles of an Age of Darkness the idea that they would have been sixty volumes long, and would gladly go on reading their same story forever, James’ last feature is the only one I don’t agree with:

Satisfying resolution in, say, 30-60 minutes. If I’m at a party and I find the back room where people are smoking joints or having an orgy or exchanging juicy gossip or whatever, it’s not necessary for my enjoyment that everyone finishes doing that within the hour. Maybe I’m the kind of person who knows that’s not fun for me and closes the door right away. Maybe I’m someone who’ll get my fill and then float off to go do other things pretty quickly. But if this is the kind of party I’ve been looking to have, I want to disappear into that back room and not come out again until it’s time to go home.

Although I don’t think there needs to be an overall resolution every 30-60 minutes, I agree there need to be frequent subsidiary climaxes. In part this is just good reward theory for something we want people to get hooked on. Also, finishing one joint every so often is a good way to offer people opportunities to get up and leave before the next one gets rolled.

OK, on to James’ second design question:

2.  Can you then modify the party game so that it delivers the continuity of an on-going RPG campaign, without alienating new players?  (Again, impliedly: can this be done with Dungeons & Dragons?)

The exact design features of the game are less important than working through the life-cycle of the game, which is something like, 1.  “Hey, do you wanna play this game?” 2.  “Okay, let’s set up the game.” 3.  “All right!  Time to play!” 4.  “Ha ha, that was great, thanks for playing!” ….in a way that it takes (say) about 30 minutes to an hour at the outside.

I am thinking about a much longer lifecycle than James – not only in the context of the party, as noted above, but also because I want the party game to be as much like the campaign game as possible. If the party game is like the starter set for newbies, I want it to be one where you get lots of replay value and do the same things you’ll do once you graduate to the “real” game, not one where you make characters with a choose-your-own-adventure mechanic you’ll never use again and aren’t shown the possibilities for creating your own scenarios.

You can handle the “do you want to play?” thing by working out a really simple, catchy, fun premise that fits into one sentence.  “this is a game where you pretend to be the Ghost Busters!”  “This is a game where you pretend to wander around in a dungeon looking for treasure before the dragon eats you!”  That kind of thing.

Totally agree with this. The premise of “what are we playing” should be immediately clear and engaging, and include overall goals – “we’re trying to get treasure and become more powerful” – as well as a simple and fun premise of what needs to be done right now to reach the next sub-resolution: “we need to escape from this room with as many of these silver ingots as we can carry before the water level reaches the ceiling and we drown.”

Prep is easily handled before the game, by concocting a simple but extremely grabby situation, and if necessary, coming up with pre-gens.  If character creation involves making more than, say, 3 decisions, I would throw that into pre-gens.  As a compromise, maybe something like what Tony L-B did for “Capes,” where there are two aspects of a character that plug in together – so if you pick “angry orphan” personality and the “cosmic godling” set of super powers, you’ve got “angry orphan godling” character.

Pre-gens can certainly be a useful way to minimize the barrier to entry to coming into a game, and as in the Tower of Gygax are almost a necessity for a highly drop-in/drop-out game to work well. Jeff Rients’ D&D chargen as a party game has a lot of potential, though, and I was very glad I had people roll 3d6 in order for the descriptive stats of their otherwise pregen 4E characters at the art world party. Erol Otus also did a super-fun thing at NTRPGcon where we made characters ahead of time using 2d6 in order, and then a regular sub-climax was earning another d6 roll and then choosing which stat to assign it to; this made for a very satisfying way to make your PC a little more like you wanted them to be, while keeping a gambling element (do I put this 4 in my best stat now, or hope that one of my other later rolls is higher?).

The process of play can be EASED by moving all the mechanics behind the screen, but that time limit is a huge effin’ barrier.  The real issue for role-playing games is the loop between:

* GM presents a stimulus (players ask for clarification)

* Players propose a response (GM asks for clarification)

* The situation resolves, generating a new stimulus

That’s going on during every second of play.  It’s vital to communicate very quickly and clearly, and to identify  options at critical junctures.  There should be no more than three options, and the benefits and drawbacks of these options should be very obvious and immediate.  If the players insist on inventing a fourth option, fucking let them do it and have it be the awesomest option ever – until it goes wrong surprisingly and they’ve got to improvise a way out of it (and then let them succeed).

This description of the loop of play is pure gold. I’d quibble that, to teach players who are used to other games that D&D is open-ended and that the awesomest things will come from choices that weren’t set out for them by anyone else, the fourth choice should always be explicit. Few adults take advantage of the last option in  “you can be a human, a hobbit, a dwarf, an elf, or anything else you want to make up,” but offering up that possibility reinforces that it’s OK to color outside the lines.

But still, this is going to take a lot of time simply to explain what’s going on, what can be done, and what happens next. In the Hunter Kids Class, I found that 4-5 kids around age 9 managed to get through about three “scenes” worth of material in about an hour of play.  And we were going pretty fast, with practically no mechanics involved.  It’s critical that these scenes resolve the core situation in a way that is entertaining and unexpected.  I got reasonably good at improvising this stuff, but I think Tavis has a knack for this which I haven’t been able to match.

This may be one way that you’ll want games you play at a party to be different than the one in your campaign: the latter lets you explore situations that take longer than a few minutes to explain to outsiders.

It’s worth thinking about why you’d want to run games for strangers at a party at all. Dave Wesely told me that, early on in the development of the role of the referee with the Napoleonic wargames that led up to Braunstein, they realized that having a good judge was really important. But not everyone could do it well, so it couldn’t be a rotating collective duty like “whose week is it to bring the snacks”. What they figured out was that the unique fun of being the referee came from the fog of war; having an omniscient viewpoint meant the blind blunders of the players created an endlessly entertaining private joke.

I think the unique fun of playing in quick bursts with strangers is that you get a much broader & thus richer exposure to all the fantasies that people bring to fantasy role-playing. I am a happier person because the girl in the D&D afterschool class who decided that one of her character’s swords was magic, and the other was magic and also a cell phone, reminded me that having the things I do have as a modern adult is fulfilling a kids’ fantasy; because the woman at the art party who chose “flyer” as her character’s race, because she wanted to be able to fly, reminded me that some awesomeness needs no explanation and ought not be delayed any longer than gratuitious difficulty demands.

As to building on prior material, I think it’s like this.  The GM takes previous resolutions to problems, and creates a new stimulus.  The stimulus should be interesting and compelling in its own right, though.

The real problem here, IMO, is the “asking for clarification” part of the social layer, particularly where proposals are evaluated in light of prior adventures.  “If we do _________, Ontussa the Sphinx may never speak to us again.”  Or, “This idea is better, because it means the Ninth Menegril might owe us a favor.”

All of that stuff is richly rewarding IF you know who that is.  But if you DON’T know the backstory, it’s crippling, since everyone else is an expert and you aren’t. It also drags the process of decision-making down to a crawl, because every choice is evaluated in the context of an ever-lengthening list of past decisions.

I don’t know an easy way to handle that, short of the GM just saying, “Look, this isn’t going to matter. Don’t sweat it.”  Or, I suppose, a ruthless deadline which demands a near-immediate response.

In the White Sandbox I made a de facto decision to show new players “hey this is a game where if you invest a lot of time into it, you’ll know some stuff that you’ll find really interesting to talk about even though it’s impenetrable to outsiders,” but I’m not sure this was the best choice. James is, as always, an eloquent proponent of the problems here and I regret not having a better answer for him.

anyway, just an off-the-top-of-my-head response.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you James_Nostack; let us shower him with money so he can stop doing boring job things and give the important questions of our day his full attention.


Some Interesting Questions for RPGs and the OSR

First, how do you make roleplaying games something that anyone can pick up and play for as much or as little time as they like – for example, at a party where people who aren’t already gamers are walking up and looking to experience this new thing without having to commit their whole evening to something they’re not sure they’ll be into? I feel like this is an OSR question because one of the hallmarks of the RPGs of the original era was that they enabled a situation where stoners with Frodo Lives buttons in a college dorm, or new recruits on a military base, or imaginative kids at a school game club would be able to walk up, create a character, and get hooked. And revivalist things like the Tower of Gygax are better enabled to do this than anything else I know about.

Second, how do you reconcile delivering an instant hit of RPG goodness to newbies with the contradictory goal of satisfying the “this campaign could be your life” promise of the neverending story? James has talked about how, even in a nominally open-table game like the White Sandbox, the mass of information an ongoing storyline accumulates can be off-putting. What structure will keep an enlivening churn happening between new players who want to be enthralled by the way their choices produce immediate results and old ones who want to keep on getting deeper into an exploration of the consequences of choices they made many sessions back in their collective memory?


Gamerati Tour at NYC’s Compleat Strategist This Thursday

The Gamerati tour is coming to my home town on Thursday, and I’m looking forward to bringing my son and playing some games. If there’s interest, I will run a session of Adventurer Conqueror King, and I will also be trying to talk New York Red Box’s foner into bringing his Brickquest dungeons because my son can’t get enough of making custom mini-fig characters and then defeating monsters to use as spare parts for building new mutant mini-figs.

Here are some details of the event, courtesy of nerdNYC:

Win $25 gift certificate @ Compleat Strategist this Thursday!

How do I win?
– On Thursday, August 18th
– Between 3PM and 7PM
– Go to The Compleat Strategist
– @ 11 East 33rd St (btwn Madison & 5th Ave), NY, NY 10016
– Sign up for the Gamerati newsletter
– Play games!
– 4 random people will win $25 gift certificates (store credit)
– Winners are announced via email on Friday, August 19th

What’s the special occasion?
– The Gamerati Tour is coming to NYC!
– More info:
– The Gamerati is touring gaming stores across the US!
– Goal is to encourage gamers to support local gaming stores!

I hope to see some of y’all there!


Mapping for Constantcon

Just finished my first ConstantCon game using google+ and had a blast.

A recommendation for others playing on-line.  One way to share a map in common with all players, aside from periodically holding up a sheet of paper, is to use a shared on-line whiteboard.

Someone got tired

It worked pretty well for this session.  There are several free sites offering whiteboards: we used which worked quite well.  No sign up required, you simply go to the website and click on “GO: Start a New Meeting.”

The resulting page should include, on the right-hand side of the screen, a box that says, “Give out this link to invite people to this meeting” and a URL.  Send the URL to the folks in your game and you can all visit the web page and see and edit the same sketch.  No sign up, no password, no hassle.

The tool is not super-fancy, but it serves.  And can be used for illustration of the action, as well.

Our heroes fight a giant beetle, using only a 10' pole and burning oil

Similar services are and (I have not used either one, but they seem similar).


When Magical Blades Ruled the Earth

Another rule with possible wide-ranging consequences. From Monsters & Treasure page 30:

…the origin of each sword is either Law, Neutrality, or Chaos, but some of these weapons are forged by more powerful forces for an express purpose… …a score of 91 or higher indicates the sword has a special mission. Swords with special purposes automatically have intelligence and ego categories moved to the maximum score…

One in ten magical swords thus has an ego of 12. Depending on your exact interpretation of the rules, such a sword will automatically gain control of any fighting-man of level 6 or less, and wins a contest of wills 75% of the time versus a fighting-man of up to level 10.

These swords will dominate those around them and use those human resources in pursuit of a special purpose. Such weapons surely become objects of fear and simultaneously sought-after sources of power. Such swords could produce:

  • A Kingdom whose ruler is possessed by a neutral Sword +2, Charm Person Ability. The sword has built a charmed army of tens of thousands, biding time before moving in pursuit of its mysterious special purpose. All visitors to the Kingdom, including PCs, are immediately hauled into royal audience for charming.
  • A bandit troop leader controlled by a lawful sword with the special purpose: steal from the rich and give to the poor.
  • Hapless low-level fighting men possessed and relentlessly ridden to exhaustion or death in the pursuit of a sword’s special purpose (for instance forcing a hero to march in the direction of the sword’s chosen enemies non-stop for days until worn out, then passing the sword off to the next likely body…).
  • A chaotic sword made for slaying clerics, whose preferred wielder is afflicted with mummy-rot or some other terrible disease but of course every time they go looking for a cure…
  • Famous swords whose exploits are legend but whose owners are anonymous and even bards struggle to remember their names. “Harken to the story of the famous Durandal, held by Rolo, Rollie, no, that’s not it, um…”
  •  A lawful sword made for slaying fighting-men; its wielder is made to provoke duels of honor with any prominent hero they come in contact with, including the PCs.
  • High-level lords, wizards, and patriarchs striving at any cost to collect and remove such blades from circulation.

In a world containing some of the above, PCs may be more squeamish about picking up magical blades.  Or perhaps not…

 (Please feel free to add your awesome ideas in comments)


OD&D Certainties: PC Death and…?

On page 24 of The Underworld and Wilderness Adventures there is a throwaway rule related to upkeep. I have not seen it used in any version of D&D but think trying it to see what emerges is a worthy experiment.

Player/Characters must pay Gold Pieces equal to 1% of their experience points for support and upkeep, until such time as they build a stronghold.

It is a tidy way to relieve characters of money and makes intuitive sense: the upkeep and daily needs of a hero are more costly that those of an unrecognized veteran [1]. But what emergent behavior will it create?

The reason no one does this, of course, is the enormous and annoying book-keeping task created. The DM will have to calculate upkeep each time experience and treasure have been divvied out and experience totals have changed. This implies a weekly levy using the recommended rules on time in the campaign, or possibly a one-time fee each time a character gains experience.

One behavior the upkeep rule might reinforce is desire to attend each game session: miss too many sessions and your character’s coffers are slowly depleted. The rule might also create an incentive for players to spend their money quickly to prevent it being bled away over time.

Have you done this in your campaign? What other emergent behaviors have you encountered?



[1] For instance, a veteran spends between 0 and 20 gold a week on quarters, food, mending armor and weapons, training, and the like. A hero has deeper responsibilities and a reputation to uphold: more expensive repairs, upkeep of retainers, henchmen, horses, perhaps established rooms at an Inn, and thus spends 80 to 160 gold a week. A superhero will have visitors, guests, emissaries to entertain, minor bribes and tributes to bestow, taxes to pay, a retinue requiring day-to-day allowances, one or more bases of operations as she prepares a stronghold, exchange costs and commissions, and could easily spend 1,200 to 2,400 a week.


Kickstarter Ends Today for Adventurer Conqueror King

Ryan drew this assassin at work based on the request of one of our Visionary backers on Kickstarter.

There’s a fair chance you’re interested in domain-level campaigns and the progression that gets characters there through sandbox play; from where I sit, this seems to be one of the hot topics in the old school renaissance right now. It’s maybe less likely that you’re reading The Mule Abides and don’t know about our Kickstarter for Adventurer Conqueror King, since it’s a horse I’ve been flogging for a while now.

What you might not know – especially since I buried the lede in my last post – is that this horse is about to cross the finish line when our Kickstarter ends later today.

You don’t have to support it now to eventually get the finished product. Thanks to our 227 backers we have 275% of the funding we’ll need to make Adventurer Conqueror King System available in game stores, through our website, etc. And after hitting our first bonus goal our first supplement,  the Domains of War mass-combat system, will also be released soon through the usual routes. What you will miss out on if you don’t get in before the Kickstarter period ends is:

  • the ability to watch successive drafts of the core system and the Domains of War grow from their current playable-and-fun state towards the loftiest aims we can set for them
  • access to the developer’s forums where you can help shape the development of the game over the next few months and make sure its aims are the ones that matter to you
  • downloads of the materials we’ve developed for the Gen Con demo, like the form-fillable character sheets, the Borderlands player’s maps, and the counters for mass combat, which you can use to start running your own playtests (doing so for four days non-stop is optional)
  • (at the King of Kings donor reward level) one of the signed pre-release copies of the beta rules which, I humbly submit, already look better than a third of the finished books I see on the Gen Con exhibit floor & will only get better with illustration
  • (at the Visionary reward level) the opportunity to tell project artist Ryan Browning what you want to see him illustrate; the piece above is an example, based on the player’s experience playing an assassin in Greg’s campaign

Everyone who backs us now also gets to be part of the excitement of helping us push for our final bonus goal: if we raise three times our original target, we’ll set up a game of Adventurer Conqueror King for each of our backers via Google+ hangout. We are currently $997 away from this bonus, with five hours remaining; as it so happens, there is one $1,000 Patron Deity reward left to be claimed…

Doing this Kickstarter has been a fantastic experience for me and the rest of the Autarch crew, and it’s all due to the fact that y’all have shared the experience. If you’ve been thinking about becoming part of it, now is the time.


When Players Frustrate Themselves in Sandbox Play

The promise of sandbox play is that players can choose to do whatever they’re going to enjoy doing in a wide-open environment. In practice, though, it often doesn’t work this way.

Some of the problems come at the beginning of the campaign, when a lack of information prevents players from translating “what is there for our characters to do” into “which things will be fun for me as a player.” This is a pretty well-discussed problem, with excellent suggestions from the classic sources including the West Marches and Rob Conley’s Bat in the Attic.

A problem I haven’t seen discussed as much develops in a sandbox campaign that’s well underway. The players have made a choice about what their characters want to pursue, and they’ve really gotten invested in it. The problem comes when that investment turns the sandbox into a tunnel of the player’s own making.

In the White Sandbox campaign, we saw that happen between the second and third level of Caverns of Thracia. The players had identified “killing the Beast Lord” as the thing that was going to be fun for them. But the intense opposition they faced as they drew near his domain was pushing them towards a style of play they really didn’t enjoy. Hiring a big force of mercenaries and pushing these disposable troops in front of them seemed like the only solution available to them. They wanted to kill the Beast Lord with the same madcap brio they’d dealt with previous encounters, but the way the dungeon was set up made this difficult to impossible. (Ray Weiss told me that this is an emergent property of dungeons stocked using the OD&D procedures; perhaps, as Oban was saying, “saturday night specials” are assumed to become important in this zone, so that the generated treasures no longer have to carry the load of character advancement.)

As the referee, it was really clear to me that the sandbox was full of other dungeons that would support that style of play – many of them also designed by Paul Jaquays.  As I watched the players becoming frustrated with Caverns of Thracia, I suggested in increasingly overt terms that they might want to try going on some side treks which I knew they would both enjoy more for themselves, and would also yield the gold and magic items that would allow them to become powerful enough to deal with the Beast Lord’s forces in their accustomed style. But there was a remarkably strong commitment to continuing to bang their heads against the same wall.

This seems to me to potentially give the lie to the sandbox promise: all the opportunities to choose what you’ll enjoy are for naught if you can’t unchoose a previous decision that is proving not to be enjoyable.

In the Adventurer Conqueror King demo we ran earlier, I refereed for characters who were about the same level as the Grey Company of old. The key difference was that the players had also previously played the characters who were the mentors and lieges of these “adventurer”-level characters. In this role, they chose which mission their low-level characters would be assigned to.

The intentional design feature was to highlight the ways that the different spheres of activity in ACKS come together. Over a long-term campaign this can become clear, but in a demo where each player might only participate for a few hours, we needed to highlight right away all the experiences that ACKS supports. Having players switch their viewpoint between three characters at different levels proved to be very successful in this regard. (I initially resisted the idea because I don’t love the troupe style of play in Ars Magica nearly as much as I love its noun-verb spellcasting. I think the difference is that in Ars Magica, a grog will never become a companion will never become a magus, so switching viewpoints feels like playing different games. In ACKS, the organic progression from adventurer to conqueror to king makes switching as natural as reading Conan stories outside the character’s internal chronology).

The unexpected design benefit of this is that it offers a way for players to switch out of the mindset that leads to frustration. In the Abandoned Monastery, the low-level party ran into bugbears tough enough that the characters had to retreat and rest after a single fight. Normally this is where the dogged “never surrender even if it becomes a bitter grind” approach sets in.

But because  I thought it might be a good switching point, I said “OK everybody, your lieges don’t want to see you get killed and they do want you to come back with information. Do you want to try to return through the wilderness and report – in which case we’ll play out what the kings do with this new data at the domain level, and you’ll get a pat on the back? Or do you want to go back in the dungeon and get something for yourselves, whether that’s treasure or revenge?”

Framing it this way turned around their initial beat-head-against-wall tendency. I think it’s because it offered a choice where both results would be fun. A choice between admitting defeat and going back for another beating is never fun. So introducing the option of switching to play the characters who had a different range of things to do, related to but possibly independent of the situation with the bughears, restored the wide-open possibility of doing lots of enjoyable things that is, to me, the essence of sandbox play.

One of the design posts of Adventures Great and Glorious mentions that players will play factions instead of characters, which I suspect is going to afford the same kind of anti-frustration switching of perspective as we’ve evolved through the ACKS demo and the playtesting thereof.


Past Adventures of the Mule

August 2011

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