Let's ask Eero about Primitive D&D

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\n\nRyRy \n\n\n
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\n\n \n edited May 2011 in Story Games
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Background for this thread: Primitive D&D from Eero's blog, Game Design is About Structure.

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This game has:

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The classic six attributes

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stakes in the vein of "GM states the Danger of Failure"

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Damage that worked like "save vs. fall down"

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Spellcasting like "tell me what you're trying to do and I'll set a target number"

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some kind of class abilities (not sure how that worked, but I know bards got bardic knowledge checks)

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Eero, I'd like to ask you some questions:

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What classes were the most fun to play?

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What were those class abilities? Were there class tables?

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What could the players trust in with regards to the system? i.e. How standardized were those save vs. fall down target numbers?

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The spell difficulty numbers?

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Edit: Boo, Markdown is a lie!

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    \n\nEero_TuovinenEero_Tuovinen \n\n\n
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    \n Hmm, you know, I've been thinking that I really should reactivate myself about blogging - I've been playing a homebrew D&D sandbox for a few weeks now (session 10 was today), and there's definitely a lot to tell about that. I also should discuss our Glorantha campaign that we played over the winter... really, I'm so far behind in my blogging that it's intimidating even to think about it.

    To make sure we're on the same page: when I coined the term "primitive D&D", I did not intend this as a name for my personal set of D&D house-rules, but rather as a name for the practice of play that I was (and am) using in playing the game: instead of having a specific rules-text for the game we rely only on a roughly universal D&D framework (abilities, classes, levels, whatever else comes up), plenty of on-the-spot rulings and an organically developing "common law" set of judgments and practices, the best of which become enshrined as rules. I can totally discuss my own mechanical thinking for how to make D&D work, but to some degree this is not talking about primitive D&D: talking about primitive D&D is talking about improvisation, basically, and not about the incidental outcome of that process.

    Anyway, this is pertinent because this current campaign is basically a continuation of the thinking I've been doing from 2007 or so onwards. (I'm pretty sure that the blog post you link is very near temporally to when I again started thinking about D&D seriously, after a hiatus of a few years.) The current game is not "primitive D&D" in the sense I meant when using the term in my blog, as it's not entirely improvised anymore, but it has many of those mechanical features you mention here. Perhaps I'm qualified to answer some of your questions on the basis of my current thinking and our current campaign:

    Classes, fun to play
    In primitive D&D you really negotiate the character classes on the spot, according to shared understanding of D&D conventions. What works and what doesn't is therefore very personal. The occasional experiences with primitive D&D have since led me to the slightly more fixed system I currently use:\n
    • The campaign so far has three character classes: Fighter, Sage and Adventurer. These are extremely flexible general frameworks that do not have much in the way of fictional traction: the character classes are defined in terms of problem-solving tools and problem-solving philosophy, not so much by fictional social details. The Fighter is a class that is best at resolving problems by the use of force; violence in D&D-world is always the court of last resort, and it always works, but if you only have a hammer and you encounter somebody with a bigger hammer you're basically screwed. Sage is an amalgam (or rather, a generalization) of wizards, priests and bards, pretty much: they resolve problems by recontextualizing them, such as by discovering weaknesses, discovering stronger leverage, discovering new tools and so on. Adventurers are basically my replacement for thieves in trad D&D: they resolve problems by maneuvering them into crucial turning points in the fiction and then acing the necessary dicing by the way of exotic skill proficiencies or dice rerolls they get; basically, an (high-level) Adventurer will probably win a situation mechanically as long as the player can frame it all to rest on one dice-roll, even a rather unlikely one.
    • D&D is by nature a system where low-level characters are all similar to each other, while high-level characters become more dissimilar, as their resources and abilities grow apart according to their character class. This is also a feature in my current D&D, so players tend towards cross-class behaviors at this point. (The highest-level character just got to third level this session, then lost half his xp as he fell from Paladin status.) I expect that around level 5-ish the players start to feel a serious mechanical pressure to shape their thinking to accord with the means their character classes allow for them, but for now it's not at all unreasonable for a fighter to make use of plentiful Learning checks or for a Sage to fight on the front-lines of a battle.
    • I'm not entirely sold on my idea that character classes are "philosophies of problem-solving". Maybe they are, maybe they aren't. The system would not break mechanically if I introduced more character classes on top of these "big three", perhaps something more fictionally specific or something with a different problem-solving philosophy. For example, I've been thinking about perhaps seeing a place for a Monk-type class in the campaign; on the one hand it'd be cool, but on the other hand I can easily "model" a monk as a fighter, so it'd sort of be extra crunch for no good reason. On the other hand, I've been also considering dropping the character classes entirely and only having levels; the only reasons for having classes at the moment in my thinking are character speciation (a secondary concern in low-level play) and the fact that I've grown to like the asymmetric xp tables used in older editions of D&D. Tricky, and the system is definitely still evolving.
    \nAs for which class is the most fun to play, and remembering that I'm talking of my slightly abstract treatment of character classes here: I'd have to say that as far as I can discern, the players are enjoying all types of character classes in the game as we're playing right now. A lot of this has to do with the fact that the primary subgames engaged by each type of character are viable and interesting: the fighting system is exciting, the knowledge-gathering and -recall systems are pertinent and useful, the ability check system used to "do stuff" allows adventurer-type characters to take risks and succeed now and then. If I had to pick a class that might potentially not be as much fun as the others, I might choose the Adventurer/Thief sort of characters, sort of: on the one hand they're supposed to be a bit wimpy to compensate for their flexibility, but on the other hand they've had slightly dull mechanical feats available to them lately. I probably should fix this by sitting down and writing some Adventurer crunch soon.

    I'll answer more questions soon; let me know if I'm discussing the sort of things you're interested in, or if I should reorient my treatment.
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    \n\nEero_TuovinenEero_Tuovinen \n\n\n
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    \nClass abilities, class tables
    In "primitive D&D" you swing this stuff as you go, then write down what works and drop what doesn't. In the case of our current campaign I started with the afore-explained three character classes and then wrote up a few possible abilities for each. All classes in the current iteration use the Basic D&D experience tables of the corresponding class (fighter, magic-user, thief) - or rather, the Lamentations of the Flame Princess tables, as I usually have that particular game closer to hand. I could totally see doing this with 3rd edition style equalized xp tables as well, but the extra freedom involved here has been nice and interesting so far; gives the Adventurer class a different feel when you need only half the xp a Sage needs to gain that elusive 2nd level. This is actually a major motivation for me in thinking about whether I'd like to go for more specified character classes where I could allow a thousand flowers (character classes, rather) flower, all with their own zany xp tables and special rules. Anyway:

    Fighter
    Fighter characters gain a bonus equal to their experience level to any combat checks; they're the only ones who do, others are stuck with rolling their Ability only. In addition, as everybody, fighters can gain extra Initiations (my name for "Feats" or "Class Features") from either the Fighter list or the common list. A few examples of Fighter Initiations:
    Tough Fucker: The character has been through hell and back on the battlefield. He rolls d8 hit dice instead of d6, and he can keep his last hit points total when rerolling instead of having to take the new points.
    Tactician: The character is keen-eyed and thoughtful as a fighter. When in a fight he gets to make various awareness checks to find out the mechanical stats and likely intentions of the opposition. (As most GMs, I don't usually tell the players anything mechanical about the enemy force. I also run a bitch of a fog of war, where it's not at all atypical for me to simply declare that a character knows fuck-all of what's currently happening on the battlefield unless the player makes a perception check. This Initiation alleviates these information bottlenecks quite a bit.)
    Berserk: The character is probably a barbarian of some sort. He can go berserk in a fight to gain +2 to hit in direct, savage melee. Berserking takes a few minutes pre-battle, or it can be triggered by getting injured mid-battle. The character can't stop berserking before the battle is over, and while berserking he will always attack the closest enemy available.

    Sage
    Sages gain a bonus equal to their experience level for all knowledge checks. As with fighters, they also get Initiations:
    Ordained: The character has been ordained as a priest, and can therefore perform effective blessings. Blessing things or people or places gives basically the benefits of the Bless spell from trad D&D (+1 to this or that, minor but easily achievable bonuses), and it also turns undead. I basically combine Turn Undead and the Bless spell, and allow characters to make holy water and whatever else comes to mind with enough resource expenditure, too.
    Goetia: The character can learn 1st level spells. I don't distinguish between wizard and cleric spells except to remove all healing spells from the lists; what sort of magic the character gets depends on his magical/religious cosmology and school of thought. All characters can memorize at most as many spells as their level at once. To get higher-level spells you need more initiations, goetia only deals with 1st level magic.

    Adventurer
    Adventurers gain a reroll on any d20 check the player makes, usable as many times as the character's level per session. Also, Initiations:
    Circus Acrobat: The character gets their level as a bonus to any checks made that involve whole-body movement, contortionism or other such stuff. Works in combat, but probably adds a degree of difficulty to an attack check to do it swashbuckling-style instead of like a reasonable person.
    Wanderer: The character gets their level as a bonus to knowing about people, places and current events. Basically a sort of limited version of the Sage's class ability.

    The basic idea in this set-up is that the character classes themselves are ultra-wide and abstract, but the abilities (Initiations) are more defined and tied to the fiction. Characters only get new Initiations as they are positioned to learn them in the fiction, but there are two constraining principles:
    • If your character's level is higher than his current number of Initiations at the start of a session, feel free to describe how he learns some shit in downtime. The GM might ask questions, but only for entertainment, not to trip you up; if what you want for the character is commonly available, then go for it.
    • If the character has more Initiations than his level, then the GM might ask you to discard one at the end of a session. He probably won't do this until and unless somebody plays abuse games with the Initiation system, and if he does, then everybody is audited at once. Basically, the GM can rein this stuff in if he feels the need.
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    \n\nRogerRoger \n\n\n
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    \n\n \n edited May 2011
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    \n Is there still "alignment" of any sort?

    Also, where did that paladin guy fit into your class structure?
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    \n\nRyRy \n\n\n
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    Eero, this is great and helpful.

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    Can you expand on your use of knowledge / ability checks in play?

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    \n\nEero_TuovinenEero_Tuovinen \n\n\n
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    \nPlayer trust in the system
    The way this sort of system works is pretty GM-centric, but it's not arbitrary unless you allow it to be. The way we play, any judgment calls may be and are questioned, and I will discuss my reasoning immediately if desired. Doesn't seem to cause any major problems. This is probably helped by the fact that the math of the system is pretty simple. Here are the basics:\n
    • Abilities are rolled on a 3d6 in order, so their average value is 10. Player characters develop their abilities semi-dynamically (this is very important for me psychologically, it justifies the random initial ability matrix that you're not stuck with it), so they tend towards 20 (natural human maximum without magic) over time. However, one of the more typical critical injuries is that an ability is halved for your character, so the average ability level still veers around 10-ish. Whatever, the point of ability distributions here is not to be predictable or balanced - that role is for the xp bonuses and such, abilities are supposed to be the wildcard element.
    • The basic checks in the game are all ability checks: I could go for roll-under here easily enough, but at the moment we still play 3rd edition style, with [Ability score]+[possible other bonuses]+d20 against a difficulty level. This means that the basic check result for the average character is around 20.
    • Target numbers for checks are sometimes resisted, but the great majority of time they are static: you roll against 15 for absolutely routine stuff (I mostly only call for this for aesthetic reasons, not seriously expecting failures), 20 for default difficulty (something like 70% of my calls are for this), 25 for challenging and 30 for heroic level feats. Something like 95%+ of the checks are either against 20 or 25, so there's not much GM adjudication called for in this.
    • Basically all checks make use of degrees of success in multiples of five points. For example, one of the most typical check types is a knowledge check: base difficulty 20 (or higher for more esoteric knowledges), and the player gets an extra clarifying question for each degree of success over the target number. Similarly, you get one "stunt" (an opportunity for changing the fictional positioning) in a fight for each extra degree of success. Another typical use is to go all Otherkind about situations and require players to allot successes to various things they want to achieve. Basically, degrees of success are the minigame currency engaged after an Ability check.
    \nThe above principles are adjudicated naturalistically - based on GM perception of realism, that is. This makes the numbers pretty easy to predict most of the time once we've played enough together for the players to get on the same wavelength about matters. Additionally, the players have various security mechanics that protect their rights in utilizing the system:\n
    • You only roll after hearing the target number from the GM, unless the GM declares the target number secret, which he may only do if the outcome of the check is secret as well. You can ask for an explanation for why a target number is higher or lower than you expected, and you can decide to not roll once you've heard the GM's "offer".
    • Often the GM will outright reveal the likely consequences of different actions to highlight the strategic choices involved in a situation; other times the GM will only reveal these sorts of background thinking after a suitable perception or knowledge check, forcing the players to potentially make choices with incomplete information. Typically players will have a good sense of the involved risks and uncertainties when they make choices.
    • The GM's task in the game is to offer challenging choices to the players, and for this reason all situations are generally formulated in the form of player-initiated actions or forced choices, not merely forced ability checks. This means that the relationship between the player and the GM is negotiation-based in that the player is, most of the time, the one who decides whether his character will try to cross that chasm on that single rope or not. He has plenty of information to base this decision on, as discussed above. The GM is not misusing his power in making the chasm difficult or easy to cross; not only is his mandate only to judge the fiction impartially, but he is also entirely unable to force the player to take a deal that the player does not consider worthwhile. Whether the chasm is too wide or the monster too strong, that judgment is on the player, not the GM.
    \nAs for standardization, that definitely happens under the "common law" paradigm we play in. Typically a sort of situation that comes up time and again will gain an organically evolving subsystem of its own. For example, I'll discuss the evolution of our bless action (available to cleric type sages) from memory:\n
    1. When the ability was first used, I didn't really know more about it than written above: we just made an Ability check against the default difficulty of 20 and then decided that the blessing would provide the +1 bonus to the blessed characters for the particular activity they were doing at the time.
    2. Later the characters were blessing some cross-bows. I decided that the difficulty could be the same, but this would take much longer; from then on, it was decided that blessing activities is a matter of a few minutes, while blessing an item such as some water or a weapon or a tool takes several hours.
    3. When undead were turned, I hacked up some arbitrary stuff about extra degrees of success causing multiple undead to get turned, as seems obvious as a solution.
    4. When the players rolled really high on some blessing actions, I've alternatively given a higher blessing bonus or maintained that the bless bonus can never be over +1, and only the length or applicability of the blessing would change with a better success. This is definitely a soft spot in our practice, but it will solidify in time: either I accept the idea that you can get more than a +1 out of this low-level priestly power, or I'll reject this and figure out some other ways of making those degrees of success matter.
    \nThere's a lot of these standardized difficulties for various things, but the nature of the organically growing game makes it a bit difficult to arrange the ducks neatly into a row, as one might imagine. Examples I might cite are pit traps in the Tomb of the Iron God (all seem to be at difficulty 20 to perceive before you fall in; not very difficult as long as you're actually looking where you're going), saving rolls when you run out of hitpoints (against 20+your negative hit point score, I think), turning major undead (DC = their current hitpoints), pricing found art objects (20 + 1 per hundred gp in value) and so on.

    The combination of simple basic roll system, open mechanics and open GM reasoning gives us a pretty trustworthy overall system landscape, I feel; I particularly emphasize that the GM is responsible for verifying his difficulty calls against the fiction whenever the players feel like running an audit. (Auditing a system like this is pretty interesting if you haven't ever seen it done: what happens is basically that the facts about the fiction are verified - the wall is so high and made of so and so materials, whatever - and then the GM demonstrates how these facts translate into this particular magic number in his head, as opposed to some other magic number. We actually had an itty-bitty audit today about whether the difficulty of dodging a charging brain leech should be 20 or 25; no big deal, as I was only too happy to take whatever number the players thought reasonable when they were surprised by my judgment. As it happened, they agreed with me after we described the positioning and nature of brain leeches a bit more carefully, and it didn't take more than half a minute at most.)
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    \n\nJohn_HarperJohn_Harper \n\n\n
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    \n\n \n edited May 2011
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    \n This is great stuff, Eero. You're articulating lots of stuff from my own experience with this kind of play, which I've sometimes found hard to express in a compact way. I found this bit especially good:\n
    Posted By: Eero TuovinenThe GM is not misusing his power in making the chasm difficult or easy to cross; not only is his mandate only to judge the fiction impartially, but he is also entirely unable to force the player to take a deal that the player does not consider worthwhile. Whether the chasm is too wide or the monster too strong, that judgment is on the player, not the GM.
    \nThat's a key element to this style of play. When groups struggle with this style, I think it's often because they misunderstand this feature (or just aren't aware of it).

    Please continue! I'd love to hear more about the "combat system" that you've evolved over time.
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    \n\nEero_TuovinenEero_Tuovinen \n\n\n
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    \nSpell difficulty
    As discussed above, my current system has partially gone back to D&D-style package magic. Or rather, I'm running all seven sorts of variant magics at once, all rooted in the fiction: clerical powers are basically ability checks derived from loosely defined ordinations, while "arcane" magic is traditional D&D style. In the fiction these two domains are not neatly separate: priests of different institutions rely on clerical magic and arcane magic to different degrees, in a manner reminiscent of classical sword & sorcery. (Conan stories, for example, do not distinguish between a priest and a wizard: a priest is just a wizard with particular beliefs and social position.) There is no mechanical reason for a character not possessing both "Goetia" and "Ordination", the two basic Initiations I describe above; I expect the wizardly/clerically inclined sages in the crew to do just that if they get a chance, in fact. The difficulty is that you don't get to be a goetic wizard outside chargen without learning the secret knowledges from somewhere, and you don't get ordained without a religious society to ordain you. Both of those are untrivial in a rolling campaign game.

    Even arcane magic, however, does use ability checks: I allow characters who are too low-level to memorize higher-level spells to cast them as ritual magic, which is done via the use of ability checks. I'm also sympathetic to the idea that a wizard might use a memorized spell for cantripping without expending the magic; have burning hands memorized and use it to flick light into your candle without losing it, for example. I suppose a wizard might also hack a spell as he casts it; I'd go for it if a player declared in desperation that his character wanted to risk the consequences and try to cast a spell and keep it, too, for example. All of this uses ability checks routinely.

    Anyway, difficulties on all of this are very, very fuzzy compared to the mundane stuff at the moment. I'd have to say that the main reason is that we haven't had very strong wizard characters yet. The campaign spent the first eight sessions on first level (fatalities and careful play, you know how it is), so even the wizards we've had haven't really had a lot of juice for magical marvels. Clerics have had more action, so I can speak to those difficulties better: a blessing action apparently won't do anything much if you can't beat a 20, and additional successes seem to obtain extra targets (bless three crossbows instead of just one) or duration or something else, depending on what the players want. Turning undead depends on their type, I'm almost certain: skeletons are DC 20, zombies DC 22 (I suspect; nobody's tried it yet), ghouls DC 25 and so on; extra degrees of success translate to extra turns, or the decimation of a single target if there are no extra targets. So basically you could turn a single undead skeleton into dust by the power of your faith by rolling a 25 or better, it seems to me.

    As discussed above in the metholodology section, all of these numbers are potentially mutable: tradition will stabilize them to a degree, but if we notice that something's not working because it scales wrong or is too easy or too hard, then we simply change that thing and speak no more of it. No big deal.
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    \n\nEero_TuovinenEero_Tuovinen \n\n\n
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    \nAlignment and paladins
    We do, in fact, have alignment. Or at least we have a spot reading "Cause" (retranslation of the Finnish word I'm using for Alignment; our play is totally in Finnish, although the adventure modules i'm running are in English) on the 2nd-level character sheet. I should explain that the first-level character sheets are these disposable 1/4-sheet small things that don't even have room for inventory (except on the back); when we started the campaign I promised the players that they'll get a more character-sheety sheet when they get their characters to second level. After various misadventures involving character deaths and the development of absolutely devastating mantlet-utilizing dungeon commando tactics the players finally got a bunch of characters to second level, at which point I gave them slightly larger 1/3-sheet character sheets. One of the new things on these sheets is the alignment box you can use to mark down your alignment.

    (Presumably 3rd level character sheets in their 1/2-page grandeur will include a space for a character portrait. The lack of this feature has caused plenty of gnashing teeth.)

    The theory of the matter is that alignment works here just like it does in OSR D&D, at least insofar as magical effects and such go; I'm not so hot on punishing players for alignment shifts or such, but who knows what'll happen if and when this stuff actually becomes an issue. I'm also not wedded to a good/evil or even law/chaos alignment axis; at this point the players just write down the cause they serve, and I'll interpret it as necessary. We will see how this element of play will develop; I have this notion that while the game currently relies on xp for gold as the xp reward cycle, higher-level characters might need some extra xp income from somewhere, and this might involve alignment somehow... still brewing, that part.

    As for paladins, this is a pretty interesting story: while we've mostly been grinding the excellent Tomb of the Iron God and various Jim Raggi's flavourful modules (sandbox campaign, so the players can move between adventure locations at will), the characters ended up expanding their oeuvre by travelling to the empire (Holy Roman, fantasy version) and engaging the Temple of the Ghoul. I have this conceit in developing the setting that all the grim, flavourful and minimalistic stuff Jim Raggi and similar designers push out is situated in the "fantasy Netherlands" (yes, I guess it's to my everlasting shame that we really use this terminology at the table - no interest in world-building out of play, you see), while all the faux-medieval AD&D adventures happen across the border in the empire. Temple of the Ghoul being very definitely an adventure in the AD&D spirit, complete with an excess of treasure and cheap magic items, it happened in the empire.

    Anyway, to cut the long story short (a really nice story involving the Thin Man and other wackiness, but I'll tell it another time), the players ended up rolling over the temple and rescuing its treasures. However, the module designer here - no, I don't want to attack him - let's say that the module has this conceit where the adventurers find a huge treasure, but they can't take it, because taking it will invoke GM displeasure, forced alignment changes, curses from the gods and other such unpleasantness. However, being the loving and kindly GM I am, I of course allowed the players to make the call themselves: grab this huge treasure and the easy XP from it in exchange for allowing Eero to fuck with the characters in unknown yet surely horrible ways via the agenture of the gods? Some of the smarter characters decided to forgo the prize.

    Now, the paladin bit: one of the players who decided to play the odds with the displeasure of the gods decided that the best way to both keep the cake and eat it would be to first steal the treasure and then come back to the temple in time for its reopening ceremony, where he could plead his case directly with Lilanora, the saint the adventurers saved from obscurity by their actions. As Lilanora appeared, the player made his offer of becoming a paladin in service to the saint, and let's please not think back to those 10 000 gp I just stole from you. I'm pretty sure the player himself didn't realize how ridiculously shallow he sounded, but me being the loving sort of GM, I obviously took the offer: if the thief wants to actually give a saint/goddess the hooks paladinhood gives on him, all the better for Lilanora. The other main thief just got AIDS, so it's still an open question as to who got off the easiest.

    I explain the above as context for how and why we ended up having a paladin in the campaign in the first place. My conception of paladins here is very D&D-based except for the fact that I don't consider it a character class, but rather merely a special initiation that is available to anybody; this particular character happens to be a Sage by character class. The idea of paladinhood in D&D, if you ask me, is that you're playing a character who gets to look at others from a secure morally superior perch, but who in exchange is completely fucked when it comes to making reasonable tactical compromises on his principles. Specifically I don't happen to think that paladin super-powers are very interesting, the social positioning as an ideal human is much more interesting. To reflect my view I chose the following rules for paladinhood:\n
    • An initiated paladin serves a particular god or saint or such, not an abstract cause. Human beings are not capable of visualizing the necessary moral clarity for being an abstract paladin before at least level five or ten or something like that. Your liege tells you what you're going to do, and they decide whether you fall from grace or not.
    • Paladins get some saving roll bonuses. Apparently it's that you get to roll two dice in any checks that count as saving rolls, taking the highest, but I'm not quite sure yet - might think up something more elegant and flavourful later. They might also have access to lay on hands and detect evil, two paladin powers that I sort of like, but only later, not immediately on investiture.
    • A paladin who falls loses all paladin initiations and half his experience points, but not his xp levels. One might understand this as a result of the existential crisis caused by the loss of your moral center, whatever. Getting back on the saddle is easy if you're genuinely sorry and work to correct your infractions, but then you're eligible for falling again (whee!).
    \nI'm really happy with my paladin treatment in that it's noble, it's doomed, it's a fucking stupid deal, all at the same time. We had quite a ride for the one session the character managed to maintain his paladinhood in the face of the completely unreasonable, completely logical, completely moral requirements Lilanora, the saint of hippie love, put on him. This is exactly what I want a paladin to be in D&D: it's the hardcore Ultraviolence difficulty level, the one where you voluntarily tie up one of your arms and play the game blindfolded because you're just badass or self-confident enough to not need the entire range of stratagems lesser players use. It doesn't matter that becoming a paladin might not be loaded with free superpowers when you do it for the bragging rights.
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    \n\nEero_TuovinenEero_Tuovinen \n\n\n
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    \nThe role of knowledge checks
    Textual sources on how others play D&D often leave me wondering about the intellectual facet of the pursuit: apparently people use intelligence rolls now and then in enabling ways (check whether your character knows how to read this ancient script), and there is the traditional rumour table at the beginning of each adventure module, but aside from that it seems that the game's genre is sort of understood to be about raw force. I find this a bit one-sided, so ever since my first D&D campaign in 2003 I've tended to have a soft spot for philosophers, scientists, sages, bards and other such character classes that facilitate and encourage the subgame of information management.

    (I should clarify that even if D&D doesn't have much in the way of rules for this, I think that what I'm doing is still nothing special as a D&D practice; the game surely involves known facts and unknown facts, and it has a huge set of divination magic tools that only deal with information, so it can't be said that the game doesn't recognize this facet at all. It's just that I want it to be even more central and more explicit than it usually is.)

    When characters in our campaign consider a new adventure location, they try to find people who can tell them about the place, or textual sources, or whatever else they can think of. Ability checks are made to find out how well the characters use the rare books and libraries, how much they get out of the fearful populace who know more than they let on, how much they might know just off the top of their head and so on. Later on in the dungeon, whenever something new and weird is encountered, the first thing to do is usually a Civics (Intelligence; I've fiddled with the ability set a bit) roll. The usual subgame for knowledge checks is that I set a DC where I start blabbing, and the player gets extra questions about the topic equal to extra successes. This system has a purpose: while the basic DC will give the players whatever I can think of about the given topic, I often don't realize what actually interests the players and why they're asking me about the given matter; by allowing extra questions I ensure that the players actually get the information they want and think they need.

    Being liberal about giving out potentially useful information is absolutely crucial to a knowledge-based character class to even function in D&D. If your philosophy of the game is that everything in the setting is standardized, an orc is just an orc and there is no infinite detail to fall back on at will, then information will not be valuable simply because the dumb player who never asks questions will already know everything there is to be known. If, however, you treat the setting as a real world and are willing to ad-lib new detail endlessly about whatever the players might ask about, and if you're willing to not censor yourself about potentially useful tidbits, then useful information will emerge: the orc will be a member of a particular tribe with particular customs, the architecture of the fallen temple will follow certain esoteric geometric principles, the old coins are unexpectedly valuable, this particular demon belongs to a court with particular weaknesses, this well-known ancient fortress has a less well-known back entrance. I usually generate this detail by relentless free association off my general aesthetics for the campaign and genre conventions, taking anything and everything in the adventure prep and play so far as jumping points. I don't seed the information with particularly useful or useless detail, except for the fact that I try to make the players feel that they're getting what they pay for when they roll well in knowledge checks; might not be useful, but at least it'll be interesting.

    A side effect of this "textured world" approach to GMing is that you tend to generate a lot of stuff that has actual meaning for play, stuff that might not fall directly into the knowledge check territory. For example, stirges in our campaign have been established as sounding very much like a small moped, and their method of flight is analogous to a moped as well: they can get up to a good speed when they rev up the cycles, but they'll also need a bit of time to get their flight on when action-time comes. I could also discourse on their biology and mating habits and whatnot, a player rolled a critical success in their stirge knowledge check when the players encountered some a few sessions back; a lot of that stuff might not have been very useful tactically, but some was (might seem obvious, but often the players are very grateful when the GM tells them that "your character knows that stirges fear fire, like most animals" - something to do with having a fact affirmed by authority, probably), and it certainly painted an intricate and memorable image of the monsters. This in turn helped make the longish fight interesting and exciting, when we could do sound effects and speculate on the stirge behaviors and whatnot all through it.

    I should note here that knowledge-based play has a dark side: while I allow the players huge amounts of information, I also limit much that is apparently usually considered a given when others GM the game. For example, I tend to run time-critical situations with sort of speed-stress filter where players only ever get descriptions of what is happening on the basis of their Wits (Dexterity) checks and initiative scores and whatnot. Go berserk and I'll tell you nothing except for some lurid heavy metal imagery. Lately the players, having worked on perfecting their fortification-based dungeon fighting method, have actually been using a spotter/leader whose only job in a fight is to keep a calm head and observe what the fuck is going on, how many enemies there are, what they are doing, what our guys are doing and so on. This is sort of a mirror image of the general information thing: whenever the game goes into action mode the characters lose access to their normal faculties for observation, and they need to make actual ability checks to gain those back. Works for us.

    Another example of how annoying I can be in information control is lighting conditions. I don't usually give very useful room descriptions before the players egg me on by stating out loud how their characters move forward, closer to the object of interest, raising their lanters up high. I don't know, but I imagine that most GMs would probably be pretty straightforward about giving the room description when a door is opened, but with me the players have to be pretty explicit about their positioning and use of light and/or other observational tools to get more than vague shapes and darkness out of me. I find that all this heightens the clarity the group has on the fictional positioning: we get less of "oh my character wasn't in the room, he's in the next tunnel" when we keep the communication cycles of GM narration -> PC positioning -> GM narration short.
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    \n Eero,

    Can you talk about the different Ability scores you use?

    ara
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    \nCombat system
    I have several houseruled D&D combat systems that I like about equally much, but that differ from each other in some key matters of mechanical philosophy. A big thing for the system I'm currently using is that it uses hitpoints (should tell about how far and wide my "houserules" tend to travel that this is not a given). Here are some basics:\n
    • You get hitpoints equal to d6 per level. These are not static, however, but rather rerolled after each rest. Healing magic tends to cause a reroll, too, and certain characters and situations might allow you to keep a good roll for a longer time instead of having to reroll. There's all sorts of little established detail, such as the idea that well-rested characters in town can roll a bonus die (dropping lowest) into their hitpoints. Basically I refuse to play the traditional game of treating hitpoints as a strange extra ability score, completely static; I don't even have a separate "maximum hitpoints" score, the only score is your current score.
    • Hitpoints protect you from critical hits in a fight. If you go to zero or below, you have to make saving rolls to not get fucked up and die. You can only fight if you have hitpoints left (maybe, I'm not sure). Critical hits, when they don't kill you, are free cause for the GM to pee on you - a favourite is to take away ability points, that seems to make players cry. A character can survive at most his level in critical hits before dying for sure, and the player can decide that his character dies rather than taking more completely debiliating shit from the GM. (The crit system is really just an extension of my saving roll system, which tries to cut down on arbitrary deaths a little bit while making the players hate their crippled, sobbing characters a bit more.)
    • At the beginning of a fight we roll individual initiatives, except if it's a fortified position, in which case each side acts in turn, and the defending side mostly just prepares actions for when the other side attacks. With individual initiatives the character highest in initiative starts the round and can opt to take an extra action: if he does, his initiative drops by ten points and his second action happens on the new score. The next round somebody else is likely acting first, so he gets the same option.
    • Fictional positioning counts for a lot, monsters and characters are often unable to attack their best targets because the GM sez that they're too far or too awkwardly positioned. People seem to accept these claims without the use of miniatures or anything for some reason (probably easiest, or maybe I'm just so clear a narrator that everybody actually can keep track of where the ten stirges are at the moment). Monster intelligence also matters, stupid or automaton monsters often do completely useless things in a fight.
    • Armor class is static: 20 for unarmored, 22 for light armor, 25 for medium and 30 for full plate. Plus one for a shield, minus one for low constitution in armor. Characters can often circumvent the AC difficulty by various special attacks. For example, soaking enemies in oil (not nearly as effective as trad D&D, but still has seen use here) is just DC 15, and the same for lighting them up with a torch. Aiding another seems to work, and you often get bonuses or penalties for things like facing multiple attackers, having high ground or whatever else we think of. +2 and -2 are typical defaults, +5 for decisive, dramatic advantages. Fighters seem to have an option to "clash" if both attack each other, in which case their ACs are ignored and the rolls are directly compared.
    • Stunting is an important rule: when a PC hits something and scores extra degrees of success over the DC, the players usually spend these degrees for fight choreography: disarm enemies, confuse enemies, trip enemies, stand up themselves, move, even attack another time at penalty (the dreaded flurry attack). The result is a fluid fight that pays attention to the fictional positioning and fight dynamics.
    • We technically use morale rules, but I seem to forget about them and just play the monster psychology. That is, I'd like to roll for the monsters objectively like in Mentzer, but apparently it suits me better to just model the monster psych and decide when they've seen enough violence for one day.
    \nHuh, that was quite a bit of off-the-cuff writing. Perhaps that answered all questions.
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    \n One more for Ara while I'm doing this:

    Ability scores
    As I've written elsewhere, I don't quite get the aesthetics of trad D&D ability scores; it's probably just a nostalgia thing for most players, I suspect, as separating that many physical attributes in a game that is not a skirmish wargame doesn't seem to make that much sense. It's simply not that important whether your character is big and strong or small and quick, at least to me.

    Abilities are rolled 3d6 in order at chargen. Elves get 4d6-drop-lowest and elf nobles 5d6-drop-lowest I hear, but we haven't found any yet in the campaign, so who knows. Characters get to develop their abilities by trying to roll d20 over the current score at the end of sessions and else when occasion occurs in the fiction. Abilities drop as a result of critical hits, so they're very swingy compared to D&D. 20 is considered the natural human maximum in all abilities. The obsessive reader (the one who's read the whole thread) might notice that with my particular ability check setup the influence of abilities on checks is very decisive: a character with a sub-level score might fail a given check 75% of the time while a character with a very high score might succeed in the same check nearly always. This effect is diminished with experience levels to a degree, but it remains in fields that the character does not specialize in. I'm not bothered by the influence of ability scores (a common complaint about D&D, especially when scores are random) because those scores can change relatively often, and they provide the sort of baseline variety to characters that I like to have when as much of the game is spent on first level as we do.

    I've used a different ability score set-up since about 2008 or so, and it's stayed relatively stable for the time. I have no idea why this is - maybe it's just that good for me, or maybe it captures something pertinent about the genre. My thinking of the moment is that the ability score array in D&D is basically arbitrary mechanically when you strip out the unnecessary asymmetric ability modifiers the game tends to use; in this situation the only reason to have a particular ability score array is that those are the vectors of character definition you want to focus on. Color elements, that is. One could just as easily use a skill list made up of a dozen components, that wouldn't change the math or underlying logic of the game any. Especially note that my attribute-rolling scheme is agnostic towards the number and usefulness of individual attributes: because you don't get to minmax your abilities, it doesn't matter if a given ability is less useful than another one.

    Stamina - Physical capability attribute, it's used for everything to do with strength, constitution and physical dexterity. The basic thinking here is that either your character has lived a life that gives him a healthy body or not, and all the physical attributes will basically correlate with each other. Describe your character's physical competence as great strength or well-placed use of strength, it's all about physical competence anyway.
    Wits - The capability for quick thinking. This is used to compensate for the fact that we don't much like to play time-based subgames: instead, we can make checks of Wits to see how quickly a character reacts to visual cues or social surprises or whatever. It's used for initiative in combat and for understanding what's going on in confusing situations; it's also used for perception checks and such.
    Learning - Not intelligence (intelligence is not modeled in this ability set, it's up to the player to be intelligent), but rather how much your character knows about the world. used in almost all knowledge-related checks whether martial or academic or plebeian in nature. Up to the player to characterize his character's knowledge as book-learning or having lived an interesting life or whatever. Obviously has great use in magic, as mostly magic requires knowing what to do.
    Will - The character's clarity of purpose, pretty much. Sees less use than the above three abilities, I'd say, but I like this as a characterization element. Magic both arcane and clerical runs largely on this, it seems. Saving rolls as well - what would be a fortitude or will saving roll in 3rd edition is a will roll in this; getting up from physical punishment is a matter of will.
    Charisma - Another ability with slightly less use, although more than Will I'd say. Used as in trad D&D, pretty much, except I openly endorse social checks as partial replacement for player wit; the issue we want the player to consider is what his character should communicate, not how to go about the superficial task of communicating it. Used in hiring hirelings and henchmen, etc.

    Looking at those, they resemble Sorcerer more than a little. I should also note that there have been speculation among the group about combining Will and Charisma. Maybe, although I like the characterization possibilities in keeping them separate.
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    \n\n \n edited May 2011
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    Eero, wow, thank you.

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    What is an "extra success" in a knowledge check? Beating the DC by increments of 2? 5? You mentioned some tinkering there.

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    From what you've written so far (unless I missed something, I'm kind of going topic-by-topic) it sounds like a lot of module-crawling - do they do a lot of interacting outside that, in terms of townsfolk or factions?

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    Edit: changed the word whatever to factions since that was what I meant.

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    \n Wow, this is awesome! I remember reading the primitive D&D posts a few years ago and really enjoying them (there was also some Tunnels & Trolls stuff on the Forge around that time, I think, that got my attention). Then last year Tony Dowler wrote up the Dungeon World stuff, which inspired me to mess around with it myself. Right about that time Sage Latorra revealed his own efforts and I've followed along, realizing my own take was pretty different. Turns out it's kinda like this!

    I focused on translating the 'best practices/procedural instruction' elements from AW; the players engage and leverage the 'moves' structure differently than the kind of DM arbitration that you (Eero) seem to use (the moves are fairly explicit about when they're triggered). The other big element, in my opinion, being the way DM (principles and) moves frame and clarify that role and attendant responsibilities.

    I've only run (and am now playing) using what I'm calling the 'generic D&D' setting, which is pretty simple. Something I've thought about doing that is striking in similarity, is foregoing 'classes' and established, standardized special abilities (I'm calling them shticks currently, like feats etc) and just using the 'roles' (one of the biggest ways of scoring XP) to distinguish characters - Fighter, Sage, Rogue, who score for defeating worthy opponents, discovering worthy lores, and acquiring worthy treasures respectively.

    The game has worked out way better than I expected - it is ridiculously easy to run compared to my previous experience with this kind of gaming, and the little bit I've played has the same effect as AW where I'm champing at the bit to get those XP without it taking me away from playing the character. It's cool!
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    Posted By: RyWhat is an "extra success" in a knowledge check? Beating the DC by increments of 2? 5? You mentioned some tinkering there.From what you've written so far (unless I missed something, I'm kind of going topic-by-topic) it sounds like a lot of module-crawling - do they do a lot of interacting outside that, in terms of townsfolk or factions?
    \nExtra successes are in increments of five points. This tends to produce 1-3 successes most of the time, but the critical hit rule we use (20s explode) allows more massive successes as well.

    The particular campaign we're playing now has an ulterior motive in that we're specifically running a large bunch of OSR adventures. This is partly because I wanted to get some more familiarity with the product base, and partly because my own style of adventure prep is often so different that using adventure modules expands the repertoire of material in the campaign. Despite the source material I don't feel that our campaign is particularly doctrinaire: the players have absolute, primary choice as to what sorts of adventures they want to pursue, it's just that most of the opportunities that I put in their way somehow or other tend to circle back to some adventure module or other that I have lying around. While beginning characters don't have motivations aside from getting into a dungeon and striking rich, it seems that adventuring time will inevitably entangle the characters in on-going commercial, political, religious and personal concerns in the world. I expect this to ultimately cause the game to go beyond module adventure material altogether, we'll see; at the least I'll probably have to start providing more elaborate motivations for going into the dungeons than mere "there might be some purty treasure there".

    In terms of play technique we do a pretty even and organic development: a given session begins from a civilized home base (the players get to choose where in the civilized world they start each session; this so-called "logistics bonus" saves us time, as they get to start close to the adventure location they're going to each time), and then we'll just see where play goes. In practice each session seems to start with the players planning their expedition, after which they hexcrawl to their target (I have a pretty elaborate hex map thing for the world), go into the dungeon and ideally get out before the session runs out so as to have time to divide loot and take care of immediate consequences before the session end. Because the overall method is rather organic, there is no particular reason why the characters couldn't get sidetracked by random encounters, compelling NPCs and other concerns, of course. Characters might get temporarily taken out of play by their personal concerns (such as one guy who's going to have to waste some time in the bishopric to answer concerns about his purity of teaching, and to get himself nominated the abbot of the cloister of the Iron God), in which case the players just play with other characters until their primary character is again ready for action.
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    \n How much resource management is there, in terms of in-game time, travel, healing, money and treasure, and henchmen/hirelings? If the sessions play out as you say organically, how do they interface with these prominent elements of old-school play so far, especially using module constraints? Is it very fiction-first? Are there established or evolving/emergent rules that govern these things (like your approach to hit points, above, which I assume contextualizes recovery a lot in the fiction)?
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    \n When we started the very first characters we did the 3d6x10 money thing and then proceeded to do some purchases using the LotFP price lists. With later characters and less initiated players I've just done "write down whatever you think reasonable as equipment, and roll 3d6 to find out how much spending money you have left in your purse". Chargen is simply the wrong place to start micromanaging money, I'd probably go with some default equipment packages if I wanted to formalize the game in this regard.

    In actual play money is tracked by the players. We're on a silver standard in fantasy Netherlands (one silver guilden is equal to D&D gold piece for most purposes, and especially guilden = xp), but the GM regularly fucks with the players by going all historical and economic about precious metals, demurrages and such - we've got lead-mixed imperial coins (whose value tends to be roughly 2.5 guildens + .5 guildens for each 50 years of age, as the older coins tend to be more pure), electrum florins from fantasy Italy and so on and so forth. The players tend to do monetary conversions without asking for minor stuff that interests nobody, but they'll negotiate with me for trade values for gems, artworks and larger amounts of money they want to trade for. Prices are largely off-list in that while I check the LotFP lists as guideline, I deviate from those numbers all the time on a whim: in this town a horse costs 350 guildens, but go to the next one and have I got a deal for you, only 100 guildens, and it's only barely used, too. Basically I subscribe heavily to the idea that static price lists are the work of the devil, in real life the price is what you're willing to pay.

    As you know, D&D adventurers amass large amounts of money, but we've yet to have real trouble about that. I've made it clear to the players that the responsibility for wasting their money so their characters have motivation for further adventure is on them; also, if they want to retire a character (win the game, basically), then a goodly amount of savings would be nice, as we'll use that to determine the character's social standing in the real world after they stop going all Stalker-y on ruins and dungeons. So far money has still mattered, as the characters don't really have the resources for goodly amounts of horsepower (up to several thousand guildens for a trained warhorse) or full plate mails (starting at 1000 guildens) or any of the really nice things in life. I'm fully willing to give out all sorts of laterally pertinent perks for spending money liberally, just to make it easier for the players to keep their characters poor and desperate - for example, anybody not of lawful alignment who wants to blow half their net worth on binge spending to gain some ability improvement checks or adventure hooks or whatever in trade is free to do so if they really don't have anything better to spend their money on. Invest it, whatever - up to the player to situate their character so that they'll have a motivation for going after more. The goal is to make money both matter (in that it can be used as leverage for solving certain sorts of problems) and not matter (in that anything money can buy is only ephemeral and not part of long-term strategic optimization in the way 3rd ed. D&D works).

    Time is tracked as necessary, but in between sessions we have the "logistics bonus", which basically means that the GM won't be hard-ass about things. We can say that your character travelled back from basetown A to basetown B to meet with the other adventurers in between the sessions, yes. We can also say that it's now been enough time that the clerical party from the bishopric has had time to get here to basetown A, yes. The point of this loosened logistical phase at the start of the session is to negotiate the conditions where the players are willing to go into the adventure again, there'd be no point to get hardass about how this single character here needs to solo hexcrawl himself into a particular place or he's out of the adventure. (We do character stables, though - if a character has compelling in-fiction reason to not adventure, then the player needs to make or pick another character for the session. Good idea for suicidal missions, too.)

    Within a session time and travel are tracked by what I think is pretty basic hexcrawl methodology. (Note that there aren't really good game texts for this, so I've just picked up how to do it from several sources in the Internet. My first large D&D campaign in 2003-05 didn't use hexcrawl.) I have a map of the northern parts of fantasy Netherlands and the southern parts of the empire (just some geography I threw together) mapped on a 5-mile grid, and there are some simple rules for travel and distances and such: adventurers travel 15 miles per day on foot (more in forced march, declared at the start of the day), which comes to three hexes. Horses and boats and such will modify this, but we haven't used those a lot yet. The initial bunch of adventuring locations we've discovered tend to be around 3 hexes from basetown Gnoomstraat (a small town in the northern areas of the fantasy Netherlands), but the players have already travelled the great distance of eight hexes to Markstad up in the imperial lands, crossing a bit of heavier wilderness on the way. For simple elegance I roll for random encounters on the world map once per each hex travelled and one per eight hours in camp - a '1' on a d6 indicates an encounter off my tables. The players are responsible for buying food and consuming it off their records, although I might do some spot-checking at some point to make sure they remember to do it.

    Henchmen and hirelings are both well available, especially for the charismatic leaders who are reasonable about what they want. Hirelings will work for base pay that is pretty cheap on adventurer scale of things - a pittance, really. However, they're no use at all in dangerous situations and will refuse them; I've also made it clear that their reputation and legal status will be gravely imperiled if the adventurers lure honest plebs to the dungeons and then put them to danger; the players accept this, and mainly use hirelings to carry things for them, to build things and work on logistics and such. (It's a good idea to get a loyal man-servant; the luxury will allow you a better hit point reroll even in camping conditions!) Henchmen, on the other hand, are 0th or 1st level NPCs willing to risk their hides for a half share of loot and xp. The players make use of these when the party is otherwise thin (we have anything from two to eight players in each session) or when the player's style so dictates or when they're particularly amused by some henchman. PCs can also become henchmen for higher-leveled NPCs when they encounter those; it's half shares for the PCs in those cases, of course, as fair is fair.

    A funny resource management detail that cross-cuts all of the above is the mantlet/pavise building and fighting strategy the players have started implementing to "break D&D", as I've jokingly characterized it. What they do when they arrive at an adventure location is that they start building these large, movable shields ranging from 3x5 feet to 5x5 in width and height. They're constructed mostly of wood, and the players have tried both on the spot construction and having them prefabricated in town and transported to the dungeon. These shields are very, very effective in low-level dungeoneering; in fact, I should start a thread to discuss any ideas people might have for challenging the players at this point. The major subgame related to the shields is obviously their construction: how much money will the players spend in hiring carpenters and buying tools and materials? How much time will they spend on preparing their movable fortifications? How many people do they have for carrying them? Our group seems to find these logistics issues rather interesting, and we have no difficulty interfacing them with fighting rules - the mantlets will provide various numerical and positioning bonuses according to their size and number and quality of construction, they will be worn and broken if not maintained, intelligent monsters will destroy them if left unattended, the party is slowed down in the dungeon a bit by lugging them and so on. A game-changer, and one that is pretty much only regulated by the logistics of time, tools, workforce and correct method of application.

    Overall I would characterize our treatment of resource management as being creatively focused on challenges: we will happily ignore some things at some times when there is no interesting challenges to be had, but we will also go into the most intimate detail about how many hours it'll take to build a certain type of movable fortification when the building is being executed in the middle of a potentially dangerous wilderness under the knowledge that the monsters will come out when the sun sets. The actual numbers are usually provided off the top of my hat in my role as a GM, sometimes limited by ability checks to find out if the characters have the means to evaluate these things realistically. The players will gut-check my numbers, of course, and they're revised as necessary to keep the fiction coherent. When we introduce new logistical concerns, the current situation is usually established by negotiating a mutually satisfactory baseline: for example, when a player is first notified that yes, you do need a light source in the dungeon, we usually just establish that the character understood to take one along. Ability checks are used to establish uncertainties; I usually explain all this to new players by telling them that if they want to have some equipment or such available with no fuzz, they better write it down in their notes, but if it's something obvious, we can always roll a Wits check to see if the character understood to prepare even better than the player expected. This goes for all resource management, really - we assume that the characters are doing it even when the players aren't because we have more interesting things to worry about.

    I'd say that the fact that we use adventure modules doesn't really influence the campaign structure; there are no cutscenes or such when the adventurers go into a new cave or anything of the sort, for instance, and I consider it my general responsibility to both take the module text seriously and adapt it responsibly to fit with what has been established in the campaign. We do enjoy our metacontext, so the players will usually know which book I work off off at a time, and we have a very meta-contextualized way of treating adventure locations in the hexcrawl, too: the maps I print out for the players now and then (to replace their hand-drawn ones) literally have special symbols and the names of individual adventures on them, and the players often read the back-cover texts of the adventures we play just for the extra context.

    (I should mention about character-player knowledge issue that we do not brook with any hang-ups in this regard. The rule of the campaign is that absolutely any information may be used by the players, no matter the source, as long as the player narrates an amusing reason for why his character knows this thing. This goes for previous experience with D&D tropes as well as players who might have literally played through the same adventure at some point. That latter player has voluntarily excused himself from that particular adventure in practice, though.)
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    \n I'm really excited by the fundamental idea of making up the game as you go along - (though Eero's rules all totally make sense to me) - part of the fun Gygax & Arneson had in the day was probably not only the world-building but also the game-design-as-they-went.

    Reminds me, strangely, of playing Faery's Tale with my daughter - there weren't a huge number of scenarios available for it so it was kind of a sandbox of the ones we had - and if Sofia went off the rails I advanced that scenario's countdown clock (though I didn't call it that at the time) and let her play a different one. Changing the rules as we went along, mostly to make sure not to do anything that might incite a tantrum (so we went diceless, most of the time) and saying "Yes" to just about anything she wanted to add to the fiction. ("Can I have a cat whose paw turns into a magical key?" Absolutely.)

    Eero, do you have all of the game design fun? Or do you ever open it up to your players, like, "I don't know, how do you guys think we should resolve this?" or "Your character's god demands you always tell the truth? What happens mechanically if you fail? What boon does she grant you normally for suffering under that disadvantage?"
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    \n Also, do any of your players read SG? I'd like to hear their perspective on it all.
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    Posted By: jdfristromEero, do you have all of the game design fun? Or do you ever open it up to your players, like, "I don't know, how do you guys think we should resolve this?" or "Your character's god demands you always tell the truth? What happens mechanically if you fail? What boon does she grant you normally for suffering under that disadvantage?"
    \nI'd say that I have most of the game design fun, but that's largely because I'm the one really immersed in rpg textual history and all that - most of the players don't have the history with the hobby to really care about the aesthetics of roll-over vs. roll-under or stuff like that.

    That being said, the players do in practice voice their opinions when we get into less obvious areas. For example, the paladin thing I describe up above, I figured that out in dialogue with one of the players outside the game, and when I introduced it into the game I was basically all "what do you guys think, could it work like this, I'm pretty happy with it but it's also really cruel to your character, but then again I love fucking with you guys you're so cute when you cry". I don't know for sure, but I'm almost certain that if any of the players comes to feel strongly about the rules implementation of something or other, they'll be brave and self-reliant enough to voice it so we can discuss it. Difficult to know, I guess they might all be secretly dissatisfied with the direction we're taking with the mechanics.

    Ah, now that I think of it, there is one scenario that comes up repeatedly that might be considered a sort of rules development issue: the players of cleric characters ask me often about whether their characters might be able to do amazing magical feats with the power of their god. I laugh cruelly and mock them for their preconceptions. (Insert smiley here, I trust that you understand the playful sort of gamism we're doing.) Still, I'd say that the situation we have here is more about setting-determination than rules: I'm fully open to discussing the rules we use for healing magic, say, but I don't want to leave the choice of whether a 1st level character has access to that magic up to random player opinion. If a player really couldn't live without his character being able to heal miraculously I guess I'd let him play a higher-level character off the gate rather than compromise my setting vision, which includes the idea that low-level clerics (which is almost every cleric in the setting) can only bless and not heal.

    So in a nutshell: yes, we do have design dialogue on the rules, but the setting facts are strictly in GM hands. It's sort of a prerequisite for this style of play, and while I play a lot of games with more sharing, that's not the game here: we want the game to be absolute in regards to the distinction between the tools the player has (his character and whatever else he's positioned for himself) and the challenges he's facing (the rest of the world). I personally think that this core focus of the game would get fucked if any player feeling the pressure of a desperate situation could relieve it by partaking of the GM's powers. D&D is in part a horror game in that much of the rush in the game comes from the objective rules, impossible odds and the sweet despair - I don't want to lose those by making the players establish their own challenges.

    But then again, thinking further... I have to say that in any matters that are not immediately about character challenges player contributions are accepted and expected. An example I often use in this regard is that insofar as I'm concerned the players can invent whatever about their character's past they want, and about the wider world beyond the dungeon, and if we have conflicting ideas we can negotiate. If it makes the game more fun for somebody for their character to have a fluffy hat, then more power to them. I don't actually care about my viking hat powers as long as the players don't ruin the already established challenges by adding stuff to the setting.\n
    Posted By: jdfristromAlso, do any of your players read SG? I'd like to hear their perspective on it all.
    \nHmm, I think that most of the player base is pretty non-Internetted insofar as roleplaying goes. My brother Markku does read SG occasionally, at least... I'll point the thread out to the players, maybe somebody wants to weight in about my various lies.
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    \n Eero,

    I know you mentioned in the past that you were a tunnels and trolls fan (or at least I thought you did) and you've run that multiple times with success.

    What was your motivation in using this re-built D&D based system instead of say, T&T, for your old-school Dungeon Crawling? What motivated you to do this?
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    \n\nMarkku TuovinenMarkku Tuovinen \n\n\n
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    \n Yes, I, one of the players in Eero's campaign, lurk in SG. I've played two characters in 6 sessions or so (work and other obligations have kept me away from some of them), Markhos the Murky-Minded (sage - Goetia) and Father Zuck (sage - priest). I don't know if I can offer any useful insights to the process, but I'll just ramble a bit nevertheless.
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    \nMarkhos has been invested in the sacking... cleansing of the fallen temple of Iron God, whereas Father Zuck (his highest ability score was 13, and it was in Will, so "his name is Suck... we're in F'Holland, so it's written 'Zuck'") organized the good folk of Markstad to scrub the temple of Lilanora, which he then rededicated to said Goddess (even if the local church, whose representative Zuck is, never acknowledged Lilanora's status as a saint) as it was the proper thing to do. I'm happy about the results for Father Zuck, since there were several surprising cleric-specific XP bonuses to be had at the end of the adventure, whereas the looters of the temple treasure got their just deserts.
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    \nMarkhos is still stuck in the temple of Iron God. It's no biggie, though since the 2nd level Fighter Hans has proven out to be an able field commander (we're still alive, aren't we?), and the chosen of Iron God, a two-bit scoundrel called Laren has been an invaluable scout with his single hit point (1d6 is a harsh mistress) and hard-hitting magic sword (roll twice and use the higher result of the two for hitting and damage against the undead in the temple).
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    \nI'm happy with Eero's treatment of the game. It's been reasonably easy to steer the events to fields of endeavor that favor us, but it requires some mental effort, and that brought about an interesting session where one of the players was miffed at the rest of us, since we just faced a dozen goblins in a hallway and killed them in combat instead of trying something safer. I hadn't insisted on anything more tactical simply because I was a bit tired after a long day of work and play. After that we negotiated a truce with the goblins and later on brought along a wagonload of trading goods to improve our relations (after hearing about the jewelry they had been collecting and checking out the going rate for various grades of furs in the nearby town)...
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    \nThe discussions related to mantlets has been good fun, since they have turned out to be a major victory over the cold mathematics of death that the OD&D combat is for a 1st level character. It's also safe to say that they're a temporary expedient, since any creature with more intelligence (or strength) than skeletons or ghouls that we've been facing can certainly defeat our movable walls with ease.
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    \nWhen I haven't been able to participate in the game, the other players have been visiting the Tower of the Stargazer, which is fine with me, since I've already been there in two different games as a player.
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    Posted By: agonyWhat was your motivation in using this re-built D&D based system instead of say, T&T, for your old-school Dungeon Crawling? What motivated you to do this?
    \nWell, my very immediate motivation for this was that I've been buying a lot of OSR modules for our webstore, and thus I had all these nice-looking adventures lying around, all for D&D. We have a somewhat shallow threshold for playing stuff around here, so why not start up a big D&D adventure and see whether it has legs for the whole summer. My brother Markku was also moving up here this spring, and I figured that because D&D is traditionally a game we see eye-to-eye on (enough to play together, anyway), it'd be nice to play something stable and widely appealing, something where Markku could get to know the local gamers. I was also interested in doing a hexcrawl, and while there's no reason why you couldn't do one in T&T, the textual sources for doing it in D&D are much more rich.

    As I've discussed earlier, I like many of the mechanical solutions in Tunnels & Trolls a great deal. But then, I also appreciate many features of D&D. While developing my toolbox for both games I've tended to emphasize their differences, as otherwise considering both side by side would be rather pointless. Therefore I take T&T out for particular needs and D&D for others, and weaving a hexcrawl campaign out of OSR adventure modules is so obviously a D&D thing in my mind that I didn't even consider T&T there. (This is not to say that I don't have some ideas for a T&T campaign as well. When I'll do that one it'll probably involve a fantasy version of 14th century Finland with liberal Lovecraft influences. Just happens to be the sort of stuff I've been fiddling with around T&T, as opposed to D&D.)
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    \n Thanks, makes perfect sense.

    Thanks also for sharing all of this with us, very cool stuff.
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    Posted By: Eero Tuovinenafter which they hexcrawl to their target (I have a pretty elaborate hex map thing for the world)
    \nWhat rules are you using for hexcrawls, random encounters, site and location discovery, etc. if any?
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    Posted By: Michael PfaffWhat rules are you using for hexcrawls, random encounters, site and location discovery, etc. if any?
    \nI started the campaign by sorting through the adventure modules I have here by level. I don't particularly intend to prevent the players from finding off-level adventure sites, but fantasy Netherlands is a relatively calm area, there really isn't high-level stuff there to speak of. Next I separated the adventures that need to be situated in particular types of terrain or social area and placed a few in likely places. The rest went into my random encounter mill. A few in particular I threw into the players' faces: the Tomb of the Iron God and Tower of the Stargazer have a shared theme in freak thunderstorms, so I decided that they're both nearby and a concern for the basetown of Gnomstraat.

    I drew my hex map not by terrain type as is traditional, but rather by pattern of civilization: the sparse yellow areas (mainly in hexes with towns) are heavily farmed areas, light green is sparsely populated, deeper green is wilderness and dark green is deep wilderness. I also marked major rivers and major roads. Areas difficult to traverse due to hilly ground or such got a hilly graphic on top of the wilderness classification.

    My basic hex is five miles, the basic day-length journey is three hexes and the basic probability of something interesting off the encounter tables is 1/6 per hex travelled or per camped 8 hours. (So waiting for a full day and night in one place warrants three checks for possible encounters, while travelling 40 miles in one day means eight checks. Makes sense to me, you'll encounter more things by travelling than by staying still.) I have three random encounter tables: one for wilderness, one for civilized encounters and one for dungeons. Each is used by rolling several d6 and adding together, the number depending on the "depth" of wilderness, civilization or dungeon. For example, the three depths of wilderness on the hex map directly correspond to 1d6, 2d6 and 3d6 in my table. Similarly following a major road (one marked on the map) or travelling on the yellow "fully farmed" areas gives 1d6 on the civilized table, while a town is 2d6 and a city is 3d6. Dungeons of course give you a d6 per dungeon level, although it's notable that I don't use my own table for the modules that provide their own random encounter rules; I imagine that my table would mainly be of use if the characters got lost in the Underdark or something like that.

    My random encounter tables involve encounters with people, locations or other things of note. If the characters are seeking something (such as an adventure location they learned about in town), they mainly need to get to the right hex, or provoke the right thing off the tables if they're searching blindly. (I could see giving the players some manipulation options for the random encounter tables if they really ended up searching for something that is actually only available by rolling a 13 or whatever off the tables.) If the location is hidden or the area is heavily forested, then they might need to declare that they're searching a bit. So far there haven't been anything really difficult to find, but I imagine that searching the 5-mile hex might take something like three hours per search check. If the location comes off random encounter tables, then the characters stumble on it (or a clue leading to it, whatever) without a need for searching, of course.

    The above is the ideal state of things, but in reality my random encounter tables are still largely unconstructed; I haven't had the time and the motivation to fill them yet, so while I know how the tables should work, I've been hacking things while waiting for a suitable moment. Fortunately the travel so far has been relatively constrained. The ad-libbing method for deciding what sort of encounter to provide is good enough for government work, but I don't like the unobjective nature of relying on my own inspiration on a decisive matter like this: I give too many roleplaying encounters, too many adventure hooks and too few encounters with random bandits or other dull things if left to my own devices. More systematization is indicated, I simply don't have the balls to drop the Grinding Gear on the players without either pre-selecting its location or having a random table push me to it; just rolling a '1' on a random encounter check and then deciding that this time the encounter will be the Grinding Gear is a bit too large a decision for the little old me.

    I've been sort of pushing the characters into travelling to Pembrooktonshire one of these days, so I suppose I'll need to get my act together for a longer journey of a couple dozen hexes. I'll go crazy trying to balance mundane with special on a trip that long if I don't get those tables in order, I imagine.
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    \n Eero,

    Do you use all the weird shaped dice as well? I mainly thinking about how damage is dealt in D&D with the variable die type (but elsewhere would be of interest too).

    ara
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    Posted By: akooserDo you use all the weird shaped dice as well? I mainly thinking about how damage is dealt in D&D with the variable die type (but elsewhere would be of interest too).
    \nThis has been something of an aesthetic hangup for my D&D - my design senses bid me to either only use the d20, or otherwise use the maximal series of various dice. The current implementation is something of a relaxed compromise in this regard: abilities are rolled 3d6 (instead of the median value of 5d20, say, which'd produce an almost identical distribution without having to rely on another sort of die) and various things use a d6, and other dice are also used occasionally. This is probably at least partially because we're using these ready-made adventure modules that give monsters d8 damage dice and similar; as I'm specifically running a cross-compatible version of the game here, and therefore will use different dice for the tables and monsters in those adventures, we might as well use them for other things as well. Economy of design.

    I haven't jumped on the variable damage wagon, though, as those particular rules I consider unrealistic and ill-fitting frill, mere candy for combat-focused play; all successful attacks made with a viable weapon cause d6 damage regardless of weapon, and only the most extreme conditions change this: unarmed attacks are probably 1d3, for example, and then only if the player can describe his attack credibly. When people get higher damage for some reason, it's usually been +1 or +2 to damage rather than a higher die type. Consequently the players don't really need other dice types for anything, except for the tough fighters who roll d8 hit dice. The option for using different dice does exist, however, should we evolve some special powers or maneuvers or situations where it's somehow especially useful to use a different die type.
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    \n\nRyRy \n\n\n
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    Branching off from damage and knowledge - Could you talk a little more about what, if any, "conversion" happens between an AD&D (?) monster statblock and what you use at the table?

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    \n Well, as you know, the basic monster stat block on trad D&D is rather simple. Something like this:

    Eero, AC 9, HD 1, (hitpoints 4) unarmed pugilist, hits fist 1d3 / kick 1d4

    The difference between the "complex" AD&D flavour and the more basic flavour you get with Matt Finch and Jim Raggi (two top module designers of the OSR in my experience) adventures is mostly that AD&D monsters tend to have more hitpoints and more complex multiattack routines. The various games also have negligible differences in AC systems, stuff like having a one point difference in the AC of an unarmored man. I gloss over all of this stuff and just run the numbers as they come, without trying to recombine them. If it so happens that the orcs in one dungeon hit for d8 and the orcs in another hit for d6, I'm sure that I can think of seven different in-fiction explanations for that before opening my mouth. Not that we've had to pay attention to this sort of comparative dungeology, at least yet. Because I don't care about balance in the first place I'm completely unconcerned about whether a given monster might be too strong or weak for the PCs due to this practice of taking the numbers as they come.

    Ascending vs. descending AC is the large elephant in the OSR compatibility discussion, but it's not big deal for me - the armor scheme I use myself is simple enough that I can just look at the fiction and give an AC number to replace the one provided in the text if I feel like it (these goblins are lightly armoured, so let's call it AC 22), or I can translate the descending AC into an ascending number by deducting twenty and dropping the sign; descending 8 becomes ascending 12 and so on. That's close enough for government work, and if it isn't, I can fix it in flight.

    Anyway, once I have this ascending AC number derived from the statblock, I can make it compatible with my ability check math by adding ten. AC 12 becomes AC 22 in my system and so on. As you might remember from above, my basic check for combat as well as other things is [ability score]+[modifiers]+d20; the average ability score is 10.5, so we might roughly estimate that a DC 20 is something the average character succeeds in half the time. (The exact average roll is actually 21, but who cares.) Because succeeding half the time sounds like a fine baseline for a civilian attacking an unarmored and unprepared human, it's easy for me to say that the unarmored normal AC for player characters and monsters who don't have any other numbers is 20. The above procedure of obtaining an ascending standard armor class and adding ten will bring most of the D&D adventure modules roughly to the same scale - 20-ish is the lowest practical armor class, and heavily armoured things go up to 25-30. This is just dandy for me, as the PC medium armor comes in at AC 25, while full plate panoply is around AC 30. Quite compatible math as long as we don't care about the occasional one to two points of swinginess; LotFP stuff, for example, has a bit higher AC baseline than I assume here, but it's by no means a big enough difference for me to care when the whole point of using ready-made modules is to bring a bit of chaos and unevenness into the campaign. Considering all the strangeness the characters encounter, an opponent with two points higher AC than expected is par for the course.

    I calculate the attack bonus from the hit dice - monsters get +1 for each hit die they have (they're like fighters in this regard), and unless I decide otherwise, they operate from a base 10 in all abilities. This, I admit, is a somewhat simplistic approach in that it tends to give monsters pretty average hit bonuses even where you'd expect more competence. If I really cared (or wanted more challenge), I'd probably classify the monsters a bit regarding their social backgrounds and derive their base ability scores that way. (Remember that in my combat math the Stamina ability score has a rather strong influence on striking - you basically get +1 to attack for each point of Strength, which is what I'm discussing here; assuming that every monster ever is average means that they'll perform under what the fiction expects now and then.) For example, I might well decide at some point that actually, it makes no sense for these goblins to perform off Stamina 10 when I know perfectly well that this is the hunter team of the local tribe - surely only the stronger third of the goblins gets to perform in this role, and thus I should start from Stamina 12 as the baseline. (My goblins are just human barbarians despite the name, so they have the same ability score distributions everybody else gets.) Similarly when the characters attack the goblin homebase I might decide that Stamina 10 is a fine average for the 20 goblins present; they're a random cross-section of the tribe in there, after all. (You might notice how this procedure is identical to the logic used in some D&D material for assigning hitpoints - I get the mode of thought from there. You've probably seen some material where it says something like "these hunting dogs are the best individuals culled from the baron's kennels, and thus each has maximum hitpoints per hit die".)

    The above seems lengthy, but I don't really pay it any attention in actual play - I understand my own math, so it's pretty automatic for me to translate the numbers as they come. Sometimes monsters have special abilities like poison or paralysis or such, and those are dealt with via the normal fiction -> rules filter rather than trying to duplicate the often insane special rules a given edition of D&D might use. As I remember it, when a character actually got impetuous and was paralyzed by a gelatinous cube (rare event now that the players have perfected their mantlet tactics), I had him make a saving roll, and later had the party sage roll for first aid to find out how long the paralysis would take to wear off. Pretty routine stuff, this sort of thing - no need to make a big deal of it, just deal with it just like any fictional challenges the characters encounter.
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    \n When I run D&D, I often run afoul of disappointing, "bummer" failures. I don't feel like the rules (written & unwritten) really sanction me to describe anything worse than a boring failure, and I'm as dissapointed as they are because success would have been neat. Do you run into that, Eero, and do you have techniques to work around it?
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    \n Oh, that's one of the big ones! I mean, the great majority of what I'm doing with the game is what I would consider totally standard, orthodox OSR D&D (although I realize that swapping the ability set probably makes me a heretic even for those who wouldn't blink at dropping variable weapon damage and most such rules elaborations), but I still see a fundamental difference in the handling of creative agenda I do as compared to traditional methods and theoretical models; trad explanations of how GM authority works, what the purpose of the game is and so on are pretty different from the challenge-based paradigm I've been exploring. The latter is basically just applied GNS theory, so nothing special per se, even if there aren't too many modern game texts about this sort of thing yet. The thing is, insofar as I understand it, most of the bummer features people complain about in D&D pretty much disappear when you manage to find your way into the same page within the group creatively: when everybody understands the purpose of the rules and rulings used, there's no need for strife between the players. D&D problems are traditionally about creative disagreements, is my experience, so they can be fixed by explicitly coordinating the creative act.

    I never played D&D as a teenager except for one session of Mentzer and one of AD&D 2nd edition, or something like that; very occasional, and we mostly considered the game a remarkably primitive one in comparison to the games popular in Upper Savo then (Runequest, Cyberpunk, CoC, Paranoia...). My first proper campaign of the game was with an extremely houseruled 3rd edition in 2003-2005; it was already relatively Forge-influenced in many ways, although I intentionally kept an open mind regarding creative agenda. (In hindsight I realize that the functional bits were mostly gamist, although with a few solid tries at maintaining sim and nar play as well by certain tragic minority players.) This latest campaign is more strident in this regard; I want an explicitly gamist campaign with a strong fictive base, a sort of counterpoint to modern ultramechanized, barely rpg-like D&D. I often describe this creative goal with the knight story: I want a game where the player of a knight trying to slay a dragon gets a textured, solid fiction within which to compose and enact a solution to the challenge of, how to slay that dragon when you're just a man in armor? The challenges and solutions both need to have a basis on the fiction, and need to speak to the same; the resulting "story" (or better, a solution) needs to make sense as something that happens within this fictive framework. The modern D&D answer to how to kill a dragon is "be level X and cast spell Y", while I want something that is meaningful as a statement about the fictional reality.

    The above being my creative agenda here, I'll skim the issue of getting everybody else onto the same page for now; it suffices to say that I've a core of players who are pretty facile about playing the game currently on the table instead of always playing the same game (comes with following along in my eclectic gaming schedule), I have my experience in teaching games from the direction of creative purpose (as opposed to superficial mechanics), and I have D&D, which actually is pretty damn functional about this sort of gamism when allowed to run its course. Many of the players understand without difficulty when I tell them that we're going to play a challenge-based game where the job of the players is to choose the challenges within the fictional constraints and then to overcome them; some do not understand, but they learn by doing; yet others don't really fit well with this style of play, but we find it out over a few sessions and those people know to drop out - and they're not that troublesome anyway in a big party in a game that definitely allows you to just sit dumb and follow along as others play.

    Given a group that is on the same page about the creative aspects, it's not difficult to have the rules and their application follow the creative needs. This is seen in many things, one of which is the handling of dicing: many of the dice rolls I call for are for very small stakes, merely a matter of routine. For example, I call for a search check every time a player states that their character searches, whether there is anything to find or not. It's quick, it's painless and we just move on from those checks immediately after finding out the results. Everybody understands that these things are just part of the procedure, no drama to it - no drama until I declare that this time there actually was something you found or missed (in case of a danger). Because everybody understands the point of play, everybody also appreciates the procedures of play roughly similarly, and thus everybody knows to not sweat the small stuff.

    When a check is important and has higher stakes, our interest perks up. The players know to wait for me to call the check before rolling. Everybody understands that my task as the GM is to formulate the big situations, the big stakes as choices, and their task as players is to see the options in the fiction and declare courses of action that bring them triumph. The dicing is there just to bring on the consequences of the choices. I declare the check difficulty and usually comment on the subgame we're going to play: roll a 20 to succeed, but roll under 15 and you'll get this extra hindrance, for example. Or roll 25 to get anything in this course of action, and hope dearly that you won't fail, for I'll fuck you up in that case. I reveal the mechanical treatment of what is about to happen, I reveal as much of the consequences as I find appropriate in a compromise between fictive fog of war and the tactical interest in allowing players to gauge risks. Then the player makes the choice, does he roll? Rolling implicitly takes my offer, but that's not the only option - he might revise his action or describe something that should aid him, and then I grant him that +2 he wanted or offer a different game; let's not play for injury, then, if you're really being that careful, but rather embarrassment, or maybe monetary cost or simple time. But beware the hidden costs and the lost opportunities, and often the safer course also has a higher base difficulty for success - sure you can grab that jevel without allowing me to roll an attack from the guardian snake, but only if you roll a 30 instead of that 25.

    When a check fails to drastic consequence, it is usually after a situation like the above, one that involved pre-roll warnings and negotiations that justify the horrible consequences. Although the mechanical evaluation of the consequence is dealt with only after the dice roll, the fictive fact that the consequence happened is already established, and thus I don't have the option of softening the blow with bullshit: we know that the character fell 40 feet, we know that the common law states d6 damage per 10 feet, so there's not much leeway even for a weakly-kneed GM to judge other than 4d6 in damage. Sometimes I find that an important fact has not been established and it's too late to establish it neutrally, which causes me to grab the "luck die" - a d6, with odds indicating misfortune and evens fortuitous outcomes; this way we find whether the character happened to be carrying a lit torch when the answer is not obvious from the context, for example, and we can make that call even when we know that his life hangs on whether he has that light-source or not.

    The main thing here is to play for keeps when you can. Looking at your specific question about the rules enforcing boring, small failures, I'd have to say that we mostly manage with this by the above means: play the small rolls out of the way routinely and slow down to a rite of decision when truly large stakes are at hand. We establish these large stakes by having the GM call the difficulties and the outcomes in advance so as to ensure that everybody knows that yes, if you somehow manage to roll under 15 (an easy roll for most in our system, as you remember from prior discussion), it's bye bye to your level 2 thief. The players choose when to roll (a GM-required roll is always a saving roll, that's the technical definition for our game), which also transfers some of the moral responsibility and makes it easier to bring on the adversity. The players also negotiate the decisiveness of the roll by the fictive course of action they choose, which allows them to ensure that all outcomes are exciting simply by taking more risks.

    In a nutshell, I'd say that we ensure that failures are not boring by rolling over the "no-fail" situations so routinely that they don't even register as play. At the other end of the spectrum we ensure that the GM hits hard by having him call the consequences in advance (where it's easier to give "interesting" outcomes), and then have the player choose whether to take the risk or not. I recognize that this is largely soft techniques-based play I'm describing here; perhaps I'll get motivated to rule-fy things and regulate them at some point, but for now it seems that our playing skills are keeping us easily entertained.

    Oh, one more thing! You describe that sometimes the GM would like the player to succeed as well. I get this sometimes, but whenever I do, I also realize that you know, I wanted that success because the check I requested wasn't viable in the first place; sometimes I make a mistake and ask a player to make a check about eg. moving some furniture, and then I realize when the check failed that what the fuck, how is it even possible in this fiction to fail in that? Then I just tell everybody that I called it wrong, there shouldn't have been a check because of X, and of course your character can drag that table from point A to point B. No big deal.

    I suppose it's also possible to want players to succeed in doing something really neat in the fiction, but for the most part it seems that years of basic Forgean narrativism have trained me to not pre-plan play as a referee; I just call the situations, it doesn't disappoint me if the characters don't get to that cool secret room I know is just behind the mirror. The players will soon do something more interesting anyway, and I know that pre-conceiving of the course of action is Devil's own methodology. (IMO, of course - nothing against those who like to script their GMing.)
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    \n\nDeliveratorDeliverator \n\n\n
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    \n -How much prep do you put in, away from the table?

    -Is there any "between dungeon" roleplay and/or shopping scenes? If so how are they handled?

    -Speaking of which, how do you handle teh l00tz when they kill monsters?

    Matt
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    Posted By: Deliverator-How much prep do you put in, away from the table?
    \nNot as much as I'd like to. As I discussed before, I've still to finish my random encounter tables, for example.

    In practice this style of play has required a few hours of prep at the beginning of the campaign in the form of map-making and the slightest bit of rules-writing (basically, I decided about the three character classes and their mechanical principals in advance). After that the only thing I've had to do in between sessions has been reading the occasional new adventure module. Because the players take several sessions in finishing the average module (they've now spent four sessions in the Tomb of the Iron God, for example, and still have 2-3 to go), I don't really need to do this very often. Overall I'd say that even for a non-prepping GM like me this playstyle is very easy and unstressful in comparison to your average drama game: when playing a game like Shadow of Yesterday or Sorcerer or such I'm always a bit tense before a session, going through my bandolier of bangs in my mind and so on, where in this campaign I'm just not worrying at all - I know that I have the adventure module that has more prep than I'd ever do myself all written out.

    I imagine that the story would be quite different if I didn't use adventure modules as the main content of the campaign. But then, the content of the campaign would be different as well, as I probably wouldn't make so stringent dungeon crawls myself - I'd have more social challenges and ambiguous, unknown dangers.\n
    -Is there any "between dungeon" roleplay and/or shopping scenes? If so how are they handled?
    \nWe have elaborate logistical phases at the beginning and end of sessions, and in the middle if players go to town early. In principle the roleplaying mode is just the same whether in dungeon or not, but we don't sweat the small stuff, so often haggling and such is done with a minimal fictive veneer. For example, when a player wants to buy something at the beginning of a session, they might simply say so, and depending on the mood and the item I might simply tell him that "I'll let you have it for so and so many silver". Everybody realizes that technically the character has found out somebody who can sell him the stuff, but we just haven't bothered to establish another bit-piece NPC here. If the player grows impudent and starts to question the prices, I'm infinitely willing to give my yet unnamed NPC merchant more nature as he starts to patiently explain why this particular piece is so very, very expensive in this small, poor town in the middle of nowhere. Sometimes these sorts of off-the-cuff details amass to a critical mass and actually establish concrete fictive images; for example, one of the players has been dragging a personal manservant with him for several sessions, and while I haven't gone out of my way to give the guy personality, it does happen naturally. The crisis point was probably reached last session as I gave a "random facial hair" table from Fight On! to the players to misuse, and it was established that the faithful servant has a huge Fu Manchu mustache. Nothing would ever be the same between these two, honest men.

    The theoretical gloss of the above is that yes, we have a fiction outside the dungeons, but as the play in town is often understood to be in a "logistical modality" where a challenge is not present even potentially, the procedure of play is much looser: players invent stuff themselves between them, the GM provides the occasional statistical fact, positioning and time are negotiated flexibly and so on. This is not directly because of town, but rather because of the lack of challenge: when an unwitting player did his best to sell the fine wines from the Tower of the Stargazer to the bishopric, without realizing that one of the bottles is poisoned, I did shift gears into firmly described fiction for a bit to establish clearly how the sale happened and to whom; we needed to have a clear and unambiguous sense for what happened there so later on it would be clearly established who poisoned the bishop.\n
    -Speaking of which, how do you handle teh l00tz when they kill monsters?
    \nI wait for the players to declare that they search the bodies or lair or whatever for treasure, then provide whatever the scenario indicates. I translate the GPs and SPs and such from the scenario material into the in-fiction currencies that make the most sense for the current context. Non-monetary treasures are described as is, often with off-the-cuff detail. The players write the stuff down on a joint loot sheet or their individual notes (seems to depend on who exactly are playing, not everybody is as organized). Usually they try to eyeball the value of the rugs or golden wire or jevels or other non-monetary treasures on the spot, which I allow with a suitably difficult ability check; this provides them with a notional monetary value that might be more or less realistic. Often they have to choose as to what to take and what to leave for later, as some treasures are too heavy to transport all at once.

    When the loot is out of the dungeon the players will transport it to town, at which point I agree to score it for xp - it's out of the danger and into the civilized lands, which suffices to make the expedition a success. I usually try to handle the monetary haggling before assigning xp value, as my current interpretation of the rules is that while 1 guilden = 1 xp, this relationship concerns the abstract nominal value of the treasure, not the much more volatile factual price the players manage to get for it when they bring it back to civilization. Thus the players can get a pretty exact idea of the "real" value of an item from its xp value. Not a big deal, of course, but sort of annoying sometimes when the players are completely at sea about the value of some item they're trying to sell, and then get a very strong objective indication from its xp value.

    The loot sales can be pretty intricate as a subgame in that I run what I would consider a "realistic" market system: supply and demand, the availability of investment currency, inflation, the expenses of seeking markets for rarer stuff and so on all influence the prices the characters get for their finds. I often tell them something along the lines of "yeah, this gold-foiled complete human skeleton is worth maybe 50 silver to this small-town merchant who's willing to take it and maybe he's going to just scrape the gold or maybe he thinks he can find a buyer for it down south - and yes, if you feel like going merchanting yourselves, I could see some corrupt republican curio-seeking merchant prince paying a few thousand silver for this sort of thing, but that means wasting weeks on the road while you try to find him". There really aren't much in the way of standard prices, which encourages price consciousness among the players. Of course it's not supremely serious, as money is somewhat of a color element and not a core issue of character effectiveness; players can be quite wasteful of their treasury without unduely impacting their effectiveness as adventurers.
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    \n\nRyRy \n\n\n
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    \n Do you have a sense of how much this game depended on your particular group of players? Would you do things differently if you were running, say, a 3-shot arc for a local meetup of interested but unknown gamers?
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    \n\nEero_TuovinenEero_Tuovinen \n\n\n
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    \n Back from Games Expo.

    I'd say that the general principles and rules are not dependent on the player-base, but the structure and long-term ethos of the campaign is: if we were running a limited arc with a more committed player-base, for example, then the many-shooted sandbox wouldn't be a smart choice, as the various goals of the characters wouldn't get room for developing. Similarly flakier player-base, even with an indefinite campaign length, would necessitate a less complex background texture for the game, as individual players would not make return appearances and drag the entire party with them to adventures (not that there would even be a party beyond the individual session).

    These social conditions would make me abandon the hex map as a campaign-structuring element pretty easily, for example. A megadungeon might be a good choice for a campaign arc with a flakier group. For a limited-length run I'd go with a dramatic, complex single-adventure thing, such as the Alder Gate campaign I ran a few winters back: a single goal agreed-upon as the campaign goal, but such a distant one that the means to achieving it are not quite immediately obvious.

    Were I to have a group both flakey and only interested in a limited run, I'm not entirely sure if I'd play D&D with them; the game rather likes to have a few sessions to develop. I guess I'd go with a stylized campaign structure involving a deck of playing cards with micro-dungeons printed on them. Something with little structure from session to session, and sufficiently simple adventures to play 1-2 of them per session.
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    \n\nRafuRafu \n\n\n
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    Posted By: Eero TuovinenWere I to have a group both flakey and only interested in a limited run, I'm not entirely sure if I'd play D&D with them; the game rather likes to have a few sessions to develop. I guess I'd go with a stylized campaign structure involving a deck of playing cards with micro-dungeons printed on them. Something with little structure from session to session, and sufficiently simple adventures to play 1-2 of them per session.
    \nEero, this last thing is one I'm very interested in. So, if you've got any more detailed ideas about it, I hope you will share. And if you ever happen to actually try this in play, I want to know about it, please! ^_^
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    \n\nRyRy \n\n\n
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    Eero, do you realize you've written almost 20,000 words on this in this thread alone?

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    Wow.

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    \n\n \n edited June 2011
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    Has there been any conflict within the adventuring party?

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    I don't mean the players, it's obvious you guys get along. Would such conflict be frowned on as "not what we're here to do"?

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    Posted By: RafuPosted By: Eero TuovinenWere I to have a group both flakey and only interested in a limited run, I'm not entirely sure if I'd play D&D with them; the game rather likes to have a few sessions to develop. I guess I'd go with a stylized campaign structure involving a deck of playing cards with micro-dungeons printed on them. Something with little structure from session to session, and sufficiently simple adventures to play 1-2 of them per session.
    \nEero, this last thing is one I'm very interested in. So, if you've got any more detailed ideas about it, I hope you will share. And if you ever happen to actually try this in play, I want to know about it, please! ^_^

    Well, it was just a throw-away line. In the real world, if I needed to do something like this, it might be in a RPG club context of some sort. Like, I committed to run D&D every week at a club night, and people might come up or not, and if we got three adventurers or more then we'd be go. Persistent characters for those who'd care to appear several times, persistent world for the GM's entertainment, but mostly just one-shot adventurers.

    To streamline the initial logistical phase of play where the players choose a dungeon and so on I'd prepare a deck of microdungeons - name, layout, the whole Tony Dowler thing. Thinking about it, I'd probably set up a second deck of adventure hooks, too - these would be short, socially ambiguous and potentially challenge-inducing situations in the "real world" that initiate and motivate adventuring parties to go into dungeons. "Gold Rush", "Disappeared Family Member", so on. Then at the beginning of the session we'd establish the heroes, perhaps establish one new fact for the base town ("these facts are true of the base town based on prior sessions, and now we also find out based on a bit of kibbitzing that they have a big theater here"), and then roll some streetwise checks or whatever. Based on the degree of success we'd get a certain number of random current adventure hooks among which the players would have to choose which to pursue this session. Random microdungeons would be attached to each hook as necessary by the GM, according to inspiration - by default you'd have one dungeon per hook, but it might make sense to have two or whatever, too. Or decide that this hook involves a larger dungeon of d6 levels, and the hook-relevant bit just happens to be on top to facilitate one-session play.

    The goal would be to spend the first hour in positioning the characters for their dungeon entrance by establishing the characters and why they're going and where they're going. Perhaps run a short side-encounter on the way to the dungeon if it involves wilderness travel, whatever. Then 2-3 hours in the dungeon, which seems about right for clearing a micro-dungeon under this paradigm. The actual dungeon details would probably be off the cuff, based on the adventure hook and the dungeon layout; microdungeons don't establish room contents, after all. I might have a third layer of random content to establish a dungeon's "purpose", too, depending on if I felt like doing less impro work. Like, the players could have an adventure hook based on the "Gold Rush" hook card (a new dungeon has been found nearby, seems rich in pickings), the actual dungeon layout is established independently as the "Goblin Halls" (goblins clearly live there, or they built the place), but then I'd also have a third card "Necromancer Ascendant" that'd establish that the dungeon's real purpose is as a lair for a black magician mastermind. Having all three layers of randomized content be independently randomized allows for surprising combinations that should jog the GM into creating interesting content.\n
    Posted By: RyEero, do you realize you've written almost 20,000 words on this in this thread alone?Wow.
    \nWell yeah, but that's easy when you don't edit or think. Writing is quick without all the filters we use normally. I couldn't infodumb about our campaign this effectively (for a given value of "effective") if I was actually outlining the writing and crafting the sentences. Textual vomit, probably going to seem completely idiotic if I ever reread the thread later. Glad to see that people apparently manage to parse what I'm saying.\n
    Posted By: RyHas there been any conflict within the adventuring party?I don't mean the players, it's obvious you guys get along. Would such conflict be frowned on as "not what we're here to do"?
    \nThis is an interesting question. The primary "threshold" that comes up in this regard tends to be that when a player jokes about or speculates about inter-party conflict, I remind the group that the basic challenge of the game is cooperative in nature: the world is a bitch and it's going to kill you. Therefore it's probably not a smart move to start griefing the other players until the group actually manages to consistently prosper against the GM's world, first. The second threshold would be if a player actually started pursuing this, at which point they'd have to seriously talk about how to go about resolving such an inter-party challenge.

    The above is not intended as a negation on my part, note, but rather just an observation. It seems to have kept the topic off the table for now, as it's only really come up as superficial musing, not as a passionate conviction on anybody's part about how they just have to get to play a hostile character. When the characters are actually in the fiction, positioned to achieve their goals, sometimes the individual character goals are not in obvious harmony, though; my suspicion is that if our campaign ever gets to PC vs. PC conflicts, it's going to happen as an outcome of individual character positions coming to an inavoidable conflict. I focus on character positions and do my best to drag out the implicit complications in them, so I could totally see how a character who welds himself to the side of the church hierarchy might end up having to hunt a godless Platonist wizard at some point, for example, should the latter antagonize the church. I'm open to this development should it arise organically.

    We did have an extended intercharacter rivalry in our Alder Gate campaign early on, and that worked quite nicely, largely due to the way we handle in-character knowledge and challenge-negotiating. Basically, you don't get any problems with inter-character hostility if the players are clear about their motivations: the traditional D&D horror story stuff is about the players hiding their motivations from each other and playing "in the murk", trying to manipulate the game-space without being in true communication with the rest of the table. Only declare individual character activities, basically, rather than talking about what you're trying to do and why. It just irritates that hell out of you when you're trying to survive an already difficult game, and the other player is just knifing you in the back for shits and giggles. I imagine that if a player at some point decides that the others have become an enemy (or a potential hindrance, at least), I'd take this up explicitly and make sure that the players realize that this adventure has an extra hazard here, what do you do now that there's a dangerous player character on the loose?

    Technically our creative agenda has a sort of a weakness for this sort of thing in that each individual player is trying to desperately bring their character up from the gutter, and one of the easiest ways of doing that would certainly be to betray the crew spectacularly. I suppose that if any player hits on this as a strategy, I'll make sure that they'll know how we're going to deal with it before they do it: such a character might succeed once, but then the player would need to either retire the character (basically, hide somewhere and live off his ill-gained loot) or accept that he would need to deal with the consequences of what he did before he could ever expect to adventure again normally; there would be questions regarding the disappearance of his former colleagues, who potentially might have powerful friends. The theory of the campaign is that should the player genuinely get away with this, the players would quickly get smarter about inter-party trust, establishing fictional positioning that'd make such betrayals less likely. I don't mind this at all in theory: a certain sense of paranoia might make a fine, spicy pressure on the already harried adventurers when they go risk their lives underground. You could do all sorts of cool stuff to keep the party honest, including stuff like adventuring with relatives and long-time friends (I'm constantly assuming here that the players are basically playing honestly and not just griefing each other for meta-game reasons), posting pre-arranged securities and rewards, forming guilds and so on. We already see the rudimentary elements out of which this sort of thing could grow, as the player characters do technically already have a sort of guild with joint property and an accountant who could just walk away with the money; this organization could easily start guaranteeing the adventurers against each other by various means if the players wanted to go that way.

    (Note that everything I write about above would be spectacularly unhealthy if the players were plotting against each other instead of just letting their characters plot. It's absolutely the most fucked-up way you can go about resolving interpersonal problems to bring them into the game and spend the rest of the campaign seeing whose character is the cat and whose is the mouse. If you actually have a problem with another player's play, you don't try to resolve this by ambusing their character in revenge. If you feel that the events of the game have been so intense that you can't maintain the proper appreciation for the fiction, then take a break.)
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    \n\nMacLeodMacLeod \n\n\n
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    \n As I read this thread last night, an idea for a game starting forming in my head... ... ... not real surprising in the grand scheme of things but for me it was.
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    \nSo after I completed that (lengthy but insightful) read I wrote for a little while and have some weird, loose semblance of a game based on a lot of what was presented here but with my own personal twists and tastes. I'm sort of happy with it, too, strangely enough.
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    \nI mention this simply because I am grateful for this thread! Thank you OP and Eero!!!
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