Playing Dead Characters: Delian Book Of The Dead

All this talk of Arduin over at Jeff's Gameblog has me thinking about another set of old-school, gonzo, D&D-compatible rulebooks : The World Of Delos.

Ben & Mary Ezzell wrote The World Of Delos game supplements in the 1980's, and dedicated their "Planes of the Afterlife" section of The Delian Book of the Dead to Arduin's author, Dave Hargrave.

The cover art of The Delian Book Of The Dead ("the Dead") is by Roland Brown, who also provided the cover and interior art for Arduin's The Lost Grimoire IV. The cover of the Dead shows a deceased Amazon, heavily armored, lying upon a funeral bier, attended to by the Grim Reaper, as her spirit slowly rises from her body.

The 145 pages of the Dead cover a lot of novel role-playing territory, as does the entire World Of Delos book series. The Dead provides rules for a new class, the Archaeologist (intended to emulate Indiana Jones, Rick O'Connell and other egyptologist-type characters from film and literature), a long section of helpful tips and adventure locations for prospective tomb-robbers, six pages of magical doors, windows and mirrors to delight, confuse and confound your players, 10 pages of gems, including a description of the possible magical uses for each, several pages on unique magic arms and armour whose benefits and drawbacks go beyond mere combat adjustments, potions and poisons of uncommon use and effect, a long chapter on the variety and ecology of Delian spiders, a section on the acquisition, care and feeding of strange pets, and an adventure that takes you through several "Planes of the Afterlife" in search of an artifact that may lead the adventurers to a most singular conclusion.

In addition, the Dead provides a new character class: Phantoms. Phantoms are former player characters, whose deaths came violently, suddenly, or prior to the completion of some important quest, and are thus unable to leave the prime material plane until their unfinished business is concluded.

I must admit, the idea of player characters as Phantoms has a certain allure. I am reminded of the old 1978 film, Heaven Can Wait, if in title only. In that film, the incomparable Warren Beatty plays a narcissistic and reckless football quarterback, whose guardian angel transports him to heaven before his time. Due to the mix-up, Beatty's spirit is sent back to Earth. Unlike the Phantom class, where he would exist as spirit, he is placed in the body of a wealthy, recently-murdered industrialist, until St. Peter can find a suitable replacement body for Beatty, with hilarious and sexy results.

The allure of the Phantom class is that it allows players to continue playing a favorite character, but at the same time honoring the old-school tradition that, once you're dead, you're dead.

The mechanics are relatively straight-forward. If a character dies, the player may choose to roll to see if there is sufficient purpose keeping her from ascending into the afterlife. She combines her Int, Wis, Level and prime Attribute, which is her base percentage chance to remain on the material plane. That score is modified by other variables, for example, whether the character was on an important quest before her passing, whether her belief system included an afterlife, whether her death was violent or sudden, and so on. If the player rolls percentile dice and the result is lower than the final number, her character can come back as a Phantom.

Phantoms lose all of their prior class abilities, and start as 1st level Phantoms, with their own experience table, and additional hit-points and special abilities gained at each subsequent level. Phantoms are invulnerable to normal attacks, although they are susceptible to magical weapon and spell attacks, and are doubly vulnerable to attacks from the undead. At first level, they are unable to impinge upon the prime material plane, other than being visible in darkness, and can only communicate telepathically. They recover hit points normally, but if the Phantom should ever be reduced to 0 hit points, the character immediately and unavoidably ascends to the afterlife. Some of the special abilities that are gained by higher level Phantoms include the power to become material, cause fright, telekenesis, teleaudience, detect poison, project cold, and control flames.

Part of the limitations of the class is that the Phantom must never stray from the purpose for which she remains on the material plane. For example, if the party was on an important quest when she died, the Phantom must continue towards that goal. If the party abandons the quest, the Phantom must continue on. As another example, perhaps the purpose of the Phantom is to protect her friends, Then if the friends die, she would ascend to the afterlife. Another purpose of the Phantom might be to avenge her own death. In that case, once her killer died, her purpose would be fulfilled and she would leave this world.

The chapter on Phantoms concludes with some suggested reading for playing and refereeing with this class: Blithe Spirit, by Noel Coward; Hamlet and MacBeth, by Shakespeare; Immortality Inc., by Robert Sheckly; Brief Candles and Happy Returns by Manning Coles; and Topper by Thorne Smith.

My Precious, My Birthday Present

I received no rings of invisibility for my birthday this year.

But I was gifted with something at least as entrancing: 41 more paperbacks for my Appendix N collection.

Included in my birthday haul:

Zothique and Poseidonis, both by Clark Ashton Smith;

10 Books by E. R. Burroughs, including 4 from the Mars series;

10 Books by Jack Vance, including the complete Dying Earth cycle;

10 H.P. Lovecraft/August Derleth titles; and

9 other books, from William Morris, Joy Chant, Hannes Bok, Ludovico Ariosto, Lord Dunsany, David Lindsay and Lin Carter.

Vancian Magic? Prattian Magic?

"In a world governed by magic, you may find the Law of Similarity, valid."

What's the Law of Similarity?" asked Bayard sharply.

"The Law of Similarity may be stated thus: Effects resemble causes. For example, you can make it rain by pouring water on the ground, with the appropriate mumbo-jumbo."

"Another is the Law of Contagion: Things, once in contact, continue to interact from a distance after separation."

Chalmers continued. "From the elementary principles of Similarity and Contagion, we now proceed to the more practical applications of magic. First, the composition of spells. The normal spell consists of several components, which may be termed the verbal, somatic and material. In the verbal section, the consideration is whether the spell is to be based on the materials at hand, or upon the invocation of a higher authority. And the verbal component should conform to the poetic conventions of the environment."

However, there is also a somatic component to a spell, subject to more precise regulation. There is some point in connection with this component that eludes me."

(The Compleat Enchanter, L. Sprague deCamp and Fletcher Pratt)

While the old-school D&D magic system is often described as Vancian, it is actually a mish-mash of different magic systems, mixed together in an unholy goulash. Take the magic system described in deCamp and Pratt's magical misadventures of Harold Shea. In that system, spells can be created, without advance study or meditation, as long as appropriate material, verbal and somatic components are combined. While the impressing of spells upon ones mind was borrowed from Vance, the idea of material, verbal and somatic components, central to the magic system in AD&D, comes from deCamp and Pratt.

While I have a deep attachment to Vancian magic's daily spell preparation (from a game mechanic standpoint), I like the freedom of the Prattian magic system: players can produce any spell effect, on the fly, as long as they can come up with a reasonable argument for particular spell components, and can utter a convincing rhyme that would invoke the spell.

Hell, i'd give out experience points for that kind of "player skill" spell-casting.

Experience: Killing Things And Taking Their Stuff

I'm a very infrequent visitor to 4E blogs like Musings Of the Chatty DM. Sure, Chatty has some occasional insights, that can be teased out and used in my old-school games. He even ran and reported on a couple of old-school D&D sessions. That was quite adventerous of him. But by and large, it is 4E mechanics that are being discussed on his blog, something I have little interest in. However, Chatty's recent post on Re-examining the Dungeon caught my attention, and I found quite illuminating what one of his commentors had to say about experience awards in 4E.

"Part of the XP-for-killing mentality is baked into the 4E game set (and a variety of other rule sets). As your character gets better (levels) what do you get better at?

You get better at killing things.

Virtually all your new powers are about new ways to kill things. You may get a slight increase in your skills (the non-killing part of the game) but these are not new powers. Thus it makes sense that if the focus is about getting better at killing stuff, then you are learning from killing things, ie. XP for killing stuff.

Who has a saving-the-princess skill? No one. The reward for a quest, such as saving the princess, is an abstraction that is a package deal for everything you did to get to that part (of which 'killing' is usually a big part) since you can’t go up in an actual saving-the-princess skill.

Bear in mind that XP is not the reward for killing stuff or for accomplishing goals. XP is a placeholder for the actual reward, which is leveling up.

By taking a look at what a character gains as part of the leveling process, we can see what the actual reward is.

In 4E it is the ability to better kill stuff."

Now, this post could just has easily been a criticism levelled at old-school D&D. After all, i've heard (too many times) that original Dungeons & Dragons was all about killing things and taking their stuff -- as if the mere incessant aping of that trite statement somehow makes it true.

To be sure, there was combat and treasure in original D&D. But, as I hope I have been demonstrating in my posts on experience awards, the bulk of the experience in original D&D was gained from treasure, not combat. It was expected, by the game designers, that the players would find ways to obtain the treasure by cleverness and subterfuge, not by violence and main strength. Not everyone played it that way. And to the extent that they did not, the fault lies with the game designers, not the players: one, the award system was not well communicated; two, the treasure for experience mechanic didn't resonate with those unfamiliar with the swords and sorcery genre.

4E on the other hand has done an excellent job of communicating its' award system. Experience awards are doled out when you kill things. And when you kill things, you level up, thus getting better at killing things.

Was original D&D any different, ask those who killed-and-took-stuff from the beginning, and those who came late to the game, but hear others claim it was always played that way.

Old School Monsters: Giant Slug

"The sucking sound increased to an indescribable slithering, gurgling hiss. Even Conan's iron nerves were shaken by the strain of waiting for the unknown source of the sound to appear.

At last, around the corner poured a huge, slimy leprous gray mass. From its front end rose a pair of hornlike projections, at least ten feet long, with a shorter pair below. The long horns bent this way and that, and Conan saw that they bore eyes on their ends.

Momentarily paralysed with astonishment, Conan stared at the vast mass of rubbery flesh bearing down upon him. The slug emitted a sound like that of a man spitting, but magnified many times over.

Galvanized into action at last, the Cimmerian leaped sideways. As he did so, a jet of liquid flashed through the air, right where he had stood. A tiny droplet struck his shoulder and burned like a coal of fire."

(from "Hall of the Dead", by Howard & deCamp, 1966)

Most of us old grognards understand that original Dungeons & Dragons was designed as a swords and sorcery literature emulator. Modern versions of D&D have lost touch with this fundamental fact, and as Chevski has pointed out, have become self-referential. As I venture into the fantastic fiction referenced in Appendix N of the 1979 AD&D Dungeon Masters Guide, I can't help but grin at passages such as the one above, revealing the roots of so many of the game elements that appear in D&D.

Take the Giant Slug (picture above from Otherworld Miniatures). Like the giant slug in the above Conan tale, the D&D version of the giant slug is gray, with a white underbelly, and spits acid with great accuracy. No one should shy away from using giant slugs in their old school D&D games, knowing that this is a bona fide old school monster.

Wilderness Alphabet: A Review

James Pacek, of Carjacked Seraphim, recently published The Wilderness Alphabet, A Collection of Random Charts, Tables and Ideas for Use With Various Games of Imagination. As I had previously purchased Michael Curtis' well-regarded and commercially successful The Dungeon Alphabet, An A-Z Reference For Classic Dungeon Design, I was intrigued by Pacek's foray into similar territory. But while I was interested in purchasing The Wilderness Alphabet, its availability only through Lulu was a barrier, since Lulu is notorious for charging exhorbitant Canadian shipping fees.

Thankfully, Pacek came to my rescue, selling me a copy of The Wilderness Alphabet from his personal stash, only charging me the $9 Lulu fee for the book, plus a paltry $5 for Canadian shipping.

The Wilderness Alphabet is a 6"x9", 65-page A-Z reference booklet for wilderness adventure design. Amply illustrated with over 21 pieces of black & white art from the public domain, including liberal watermarking behind the text, Pacek's reference book is also filled with random tables to populate your wilderness environment. The sub-title of this book, "for use with various games of imagination" is, of course, code for "this book is system-neutral". Indeed, you won't find any reference to specific rule-sets or stat-blocks. Instead, you will find page upon page of intriguing wilderness landmark generation tables, around which to build interesting and surprising adventures -- for both the players and referee!

Among the interesting random tables: A is for Archway, C is for Chasm, E is for Edifice, G is for Graveyard, I is for Intersection, Q is for Quagmire, R is for Ruins and Residences, S is for Spring, and Z is for Ziggurat. In addition to 26 random tables, some of which allow you to generate 1000's of results, Pacek gives you several bonus tables, such as "colorful NPCs", "strange sounds", and "Mines". Pacek also provides his own "Appendix N" of additional sources of random table inspiration.

The Wilderness Alphabet is a handy little resource. Like The Dungeon Alphabet, this booklet provides you with both immediate inspiration for generating unique wilderness landmarks (when you are short on preparation time), but also provides the fodder to inspire the creation of your own random wilderness tables.

Considering how attractively presented the material is, and the booklet's utility and reusability, the $9 price tag on The Wilderness Alphabet seems quite reasonable.

Why Celebrate Thanksgiving Early: Reason #4

Here's the weather that was waiting for us this morning: the first snowfall of the year. I posted several months ago, revelling in the whole two weeks of summer we get each year. Well, it looks like we went directly from spring to winter.

Note the rabbit on the sidewalk. As I was standing on the sidewalk, preparing to snap a photo, the rabbit hopped across the street and decided to stop here, long enough for me to take his picture. What a narcissist!

Canadian Thanksgiving is celebrated more than a month before American Thanksgiving -- October 11 vs. November 25. I was reminded of this because my wife purchased a frozen turkey on the weekend, and is planning out the guest-list.

Which brings me to reason to celebrate thanksgiving early, #4: because everybody loves turkey, and you can never eat it too early in the year.

David Trampier, Ambiguity And Implied Narrative

If you want to read a really good article on David Trampier's art, you can find it here.

The term "Implied Narrative" has been adopted to describe Trampier's style, a style of which I am very fond. I must admit that most every piece of D&D art that I have viewed, since becoming acquainted with Trampier's artwork, has been judged against his narrative approach.

Several months ago I mentioned the early black and white artwork of Todd Lockwood. The early Lockwood illustrations also capture a narrative ambiguity which I find compelling.

Viewing Lockwood's illustration of Orcus, I found myself asking: Is Orcus sleeping or drooling? Why is has this woman been brought to his throne? What happens next? The great strength of Tramp, and other artists like Lockwood, is not just that the scenes they depicted were filled with action, drama or suspense.

Like my favorite art, I prefer implied narrative in my role-playing games as well. To quote from Only A Game:

"Implied Narrative: this is another category of [game] narrative where, like The Sims, there really is no writer-defined narrative per se, but the stories emerge from a dynamic play environment."

No writer-defined (or Dungeon Master defined) narrative. I think this is the key (or what we imagine to be the key) to the appeal of Trampier's artwork, and the appeal of old-school gaming. The lack of agenda on the part of the Dungeon Master when it comes to what story will be told.

Like a good Dungeon Master, Tramp wasn't necessarily rooting for the good guys. Heck, we don't even know that characters in his illustrations, or the player characters in our games, are the good guys! That is up to the players themselves, or the art-viewers, to decide.

Just like the ending to their story is up to the players.

Last Train To Trans-Central

This is what KLF is about ...

All aboard all aboard, whoa-oh! Whoo whoo! Whoo whoo!
Come on boy do you wanna ride?
All aboard all aboard, whoa-oh! Whoo whoo!
Last train to Trans-central...

And that was my kinda music.

Holmes Basic DnD: Experience Points

All this talk on the interwebs about what image most captures your conception of Dungeons and Dragons has me thinking about the Basic Dungeons and Dragons rule set, edited by Dr. J. Eric Holmes.

Published in 1977, the illustration on the box cover of Holmes D&D was the first full cover treatment, that I had ever seen, of a D&D encounter between adventurers and a dragon. It blew my then 11 year old mind, and was the subject of much day-dreaming.

The cover, by David Sutherland III, shows two adventurers -- a blond, pointy-hatted wizard, and a heavily-armed and armored fighter, aiming his bow and arrow -- confronting a roused red dragon lying atop an immense hoard of treasure. The wizard is holding a torch and casting a spell with his wand, as the two stand in an archway made by two pillars. The final encounter in the Dungeon, or at least the most rewarding, if the adventurers are successful and cart all of that treasure back to town!

Holmes D&D is, arguably, the most flexible of all iterations of Dungeons and Dragons. I say this mostly because it is incredibly rules-light, being only 48 pages of rules (for character levels 1-3), compared to the 64 pages for Moldvay, and Mentzer, D&D rules. It's "lean-ness" provides more opportunity to "play it your way", but Holmes is explicit in encouraging that freedom.

"A final word to the Dungeon Master from the authors. These rules are intended as guidelines. No two Dungeon Masters run their dungeons quite the same way, as anyone who has learned the game with one group and then transferred to another can easily attest. You are sure to encounter situations not covered by these rules. Improvise. Agree on a probability that an event will occur and convert it into a die roll -- roll the number and see what happens! The game is intended to be fun and the rules modified if the players desire. Do not hesitate to invent, create and experiment with new ideas. Imagination is the key to a good game. Enjoy!"

Holmes had his own idea of regarding the purpose of adventuring in D&D. He has this to say about the course of an adventure, and the rewards to be pursued.

"Many gamers start with a trip across country to get to the entrance of a dungeon. A trip apt to be punctuated by attacks by brigands or wandering monsters or marked by strange and unusual encounters. The party then enters the underworld, tries to capture the maximum treasure with the minimal risk, and escape alive."

Holmes, like other editors of D&D rulesets, encouraged players to recover as much treasure as possible, while avoiding any associated risks. While no definitive directions were given on the proportion of treasure to be awarded (compared to the amount of experience that the characters were expected to receive as a result of defeating monsters) Holmes does provide us with a sample dungeon, stocked with denizens and loot. In that dungeon you can recover 4500 gp worth of treasure, and obtain 750 xp from monsters, in addition to recovering two scrolls, a +1 dagger and two magic swords. The experience points from monsters equals 15% of the experience points. Therefore, 85% of the experience is derived from the treasure (not counting the magic items).