Starting today all backers have access to the draft of MAJUS prior to final layout with art. This is provided as a thank you to all supporters, and so that you can get right into enjoying the game before the final version is finished. Current backers please check today's update (for backers only) with download instructions. Future backers, once pledged, can read Update 2 from the Kickstarter page to find instructions.Whether you've pledged $1.00 or $100.00, here's your chance to get the magic of MAJUS started right away. Go make a pledge at the Kickstarter page and checkout Update #2 for details on how to get your copy of the art-free draft version of the game.
Have a great weekend!
Showing posts with label rules. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rules. Show all posts
Friday, March 29, 2013
MAJUS Draft Now Available to All Funders
This just in from Dan Proctor courtesy of the Goblinoid Games blog:
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Stonehell Dungeon Official In-Game T-Shirt Rules
This is so the game masters out there running Stonehell Dungeon have official “by the book” rules to point to if Mr. Rules Lawyer or his cousin Knuckleheaded Gamer Guy start being a problem.
Rule Number 1: It is the game master’s prerogative to allow or forbid the modifier granted by a Stonehell Dungeon “In-Game” T-shirt in his or her game session. If they say the shirt’s modifier doesn’t apply, it doesn’t apply. Stonehell Dungeon “In Game” T-shirts always grant their bonuses in any game run by me, Michael Curtis.
Rule Number 2: The player’s character gains the benefit of only one shirt at any given time. Shirts do not stack regardless of how many the player is wearing at the game table. Only the topmost shirt grants it bonus and the player is allowed to change shirts during a game session (but see Rule Number 3 below).
Rule Number 3: The shirt’s modifier must be plainly visible at all times to be claimed by the character. If someone standing behind the player cannot read the text on the back of the shirt, that player cannot apply the shirt’s benefit to their character. This means that “In-Game” shirts worn under other clothing do not grant a bonus; shirts obscured by the back of a chair or other situation where the player need only lean forward or to one side to reveal the game text still grant their bonus.
Rule Number 4: If your campaign allows for “shields to be splintered” to avoid damage, the Stonehell Fighters Tee can be used in lieu of a shield. To claim this benefit, the wearer must physically tear his or her shirt off in their best Hulk Hogan fashion and slam the strips of cloth triumphantly on the game table. All other players and/or bystanders must immediately give that player a standing ovation. The first person to send me a video of themselves or another player performing this action in actual play will receive a special Stonehell-related gift from me of my choosing.
Rule Number 5: The benefit of wearing a Stonehell Dungeon “In-Game” T-shirt is completely negated if the player is also wearing an “RPG guy hat.” “RPG guy hats” include, but are not limited to: fedoras, sombreros, fezzes, cat ears, Australian -outback style hats, surplus military hats, Viking helmets, and other headwear that no self-respecting person would wear, yet the player mistakenly believes makes them cool, quirky, or more stylish than everyone else. If there is any debate as to whether a hat qualifies as an “RPG guy hat,” a vote of all players present is taken and majority rules. The in-game modifier is only negated if the shirt owner insists on wearing his or her “RPG guy hat” at the table. I can’t stop you from wearing it to and from the game (as much as I wish I could).
Rule Number 6: If any other uncertainties or debates regarding the modifier granted by a Stonehell Dungeon “In-Game” T-shirt arise, see Rule Number 1. The game referee always has the final say and his or her decisions trump Rules Number 2-5.
Rule Number 1: It is the game master’s prerogative to allow or forbid the modifier granted by a Stonehell Dungeon “In-Game” T-shirt in his or her game session. If they say the shirt’s modifier doesn’t apply, it doesn’t apply. Stonehell Dungeon “In Game” T-shirts always grant their bonuses in any game run by me, Michael Curtis.
Rule Number 2: The player’s character gains the benefit of only one shirt at any given time. Shirts do not stack regardless of how many the player is wearing at the game table. Only the topmost shirt grants it bonus and the player is allowed to change shirts during a game session (but see Rule Number 3 below).
Rule Number 3: The shirt’s modifier must be plainly visible at all times to be claimed by the character. If someone standing behind the player cannot read the text on the back of the shirt, that player cannot apply the shirt’s benefit to their character. This means that “In-Game” shirts worn under other clothing do not grant a bonus; shirts obscured by the back of a chair or other situation where the player need only lean forward or to one side to reveal the game text still grant their bonus.
Rule Number 4: If your campaign allows for “shields to be splintered” to avoid damage, the Stonehell Fighters Tee can be used in lieu of a shield. To claim this benefit, the wearer must physically tear his or her shirt off in their best Hulk Hogan fashion and slam the strips of cloth triumphantly on the game table. All other players and/or bystanders must immediately give that player a standing ovation. The first person to send me a video of themselves or another player performing this action in actual play will receive a special Stonehell-related gift from me of my choosing.
Rule Number 5: The benefit of wearing a Stonehell Dungeon “In-Game” T-shirt is completely negated if the player is also wearing an “RPG guy hat.” “RPG guy hats” include, but are not limited to: fedoras, sombreros, fezzes, cat ears, Australian -outback style hats, surplus military hats, Viking helmets, and other headwear that no self-respecting person would wear, yet the player mistakenly believes makes them cool, quirky, or more stylish than everyone else. If there is any debate as to whether a hat qualifies as an “RPG guy hat,” a vote of all players present is taken and majority rules. The in-game modifier is only negated if the shirt owner insists on wearing his or her “RPG guy hat” at the table. I can’t stop you from wearing it to and from the game (as much as I wish I could).
Rule Number 6: If any other uncertainties or debates regarding the modifier granted by a Stonehell Dungeon “In-Game” T-shirt arise, see Rule Number 1. The game referee always has the final say and his or her decisions trump Rules Number 2-5.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Ka-Ching!
As a rule, I do not fall into the category of a Monty Haul-type referee. I can be downright stingy, in fact. My players can attest that they’ve gone into Stonehell and come back out with the pocket change that a pair of sentries had on them. Sometimes they’re even operating at a loss when they go delving.
Not today though. At our first session since the holiday break, the party found two of the largest treasure hordes on the second level of the dungeon. The amount of money and experience they hauled out was damn near obscene. Because of this, they actually ran into the rule that stipulates a PC can never advance more than a single level as a result of an adventure—something which has occurred only one or two times in my games in the three decades I’ve been playing.
Watching them deal with the logistical problem of getting the sheer amount of coinage they stumbled onto back to the surface was extremely entertaining. Rations went flying, coils of rope were discarded, torches jettisoned, and all that dungeon trash that adventurers tend to accumulate (“I take the orcs’ longswords! We can sell them back in town.”) got dumped without ceremony. When all was said and done, only two of the six PCs had a weapon in hand—the rest had their mitts filled with sacks.
They crawled back to the surface at the breakneck speed of 30’ a turn, were almost robbed by a gang of bugbears, dodged kobold javelins, crossed the Pit of Great Annoyance on a rickety ladder, and faced a mass of seven zombies that stood between them and the stairs to the surface, but they made it out alive and filthy rich. Of course, the next time they might not be so lucky, but this uncertainty is one of the more enjoyable factors about the old style of gaming. There are few attempts to balance risk or reward in the early editions, so any trip could end in a windfall or a wipeout. It is that uncertainty that makes me come back for more, both as a player and a referee. I wonder why anyone would want it otherwise, but it takes all types I suppose.
After all the PC deaths that have occurred and the near poverty the adventurers endured since the campaign began, it’s great to see them have a big win. The power level of the campaign is slowly growing, which not only adds to the survivability of the PCs, but also gives me greater leeway with what I can introduce into the campaign—and I have some interesting plans…
All in all, today was a good day for gaming and it was precisely what I needed to get me to refocus after the three weeks off. I’m looking forward to next week’s session. I see an overland journey on the horizon, something we haven’t done since the original campaign world. The sandbox is waiting for the PCs…and some hexes are hungry.
Not today though. At our first session since the holiday break, the party found two of the largest treasure hordes on the second level of the dungeon. The amount of money and experience they hauled out was damn near obscene. Because of this, they actually ran into the rule that stipulates a PC can never advance more than a single level as a result of an adventure—something which has occurred only one or two times in my games in the three decades I’ve been playing.
Watching them deal with the logistical problem of getting the sheer amount of coinage they stumbled onto back to the surface was extremely entertaining. Rations went flying, coils of rope were discarded, torches jettisoned, and all that dungeon trash that adventurers tend to accumulate (“I take the orcs’ longswords! We can sell them back in town.”) got dumped without ceremony. When all was said and done, only two of the six PCs had a weapon in hand—the rest had their mitts filled with sacks.
They crawled back to the surface at the breakneck speed of 30’ a turn, were almost robbed by a gang of bugbears, dodged kobold javelins, crossed the Pit of Great Annoyance on a rickety ladder, and faced a mass of seven zombies that stood between them and the stairs to the surface, but they made it out alive and filthy rich. Of course, the next time they might not be so lucky, but this uncertainty is one of the more enjoyable factors about the old style of gaming. There are few attempts to balance risk or reward in the early editions, so any trip could end in a windfall or a wipeout. It is that uncertainty that makes me come back for more, both as a player and a referee. I wonder why anyone would want it otherwise, but it takes all types I suppose.
After all the PC deaths that have occurred and the near poverty the adventurers endured since the campaign began, it’s great to see them have a big win. The power level of the campaign is slowly growing, which not only adds to the survivability of the PCs, but also gives me greater leeway with what I can introduce into the campaign—and I have some interesting plans…
All in all, today was a good day for gaming and it was precisely what I needed to get me to refocus after the three weeks off. I’m looking forward to next week’s session. I see an overland journey on the horizon, something we haven’t done since the original campaign world. The sandbox is waiting for the PCs…and some hexes are hungry.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Dragon Scale Armor
I've had a notion and I want to see where it goes, but first I need to see what paths others have trod before embarking. Does anyone know offhand where the topic of dragon scale armor has been covered in the "official" sources? I'm assuming there must have been at least one article about the stuff in Dragon over the years, but my search of the Dragon Magazine Archive isn't turning up much. The topic might have been covered in one of the game books as well, but I can't for the life of me remember where.
Post a comment here if you know where I should be looking for this kind of information. The earlier the source, the better on this one. I'll offer my premature thanks to anyone who could help out here.
Post a comment here if you know where I should be looking for this kind of information. The earlier the source, the better on this one. I'll offer my premature thanks to anyone who could help out here.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Proto BECMI?
I’ve just recently become aware of the fact that in both of the B/X books under the notes for “Energy Drain” there are references to the D&D Companion supplement. This supplement obviously came into being under the Mentzer BECMI editions but this is the first time I’ve seen any indication that a third book under a possible Moldvay/Cook/Marsh editorial flag was planned. I’m surprised that I never noticed this mention before or, if I did, had forgotten about it.
I realize now that a) I don’t know a lot of what was occurring behind the scenes at TSR that required the reboot of the Basic series under Mentzer and b) I would have loved to have seen a third boxed set published in 1981 or 1982 done in the style of B/X and crammed with Otus, LaForce, Dee, Roslof, and Willingham artwork.
Other than for the obvious monetary reasons, anyone know why the reboot under Mentzer occurred and care to enlighten me?
I realize now that a) I don’t know a lot of what was occurring behind the scenes at TSR that required the reboot of the Basic series under Mentzer and b) I would have loved to have seen a third boxed set published in 1981 or 1982 done in the style of B/X and crammed with Otus, LaForce, Dee, Roslof, and Willingham artwork.
Other than for the obvious monetary reasons, anyone know why the reboot under Mentzer occurred and care to enlighten me?
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Wolves & Jackals
I’m one of those people who enjoy games within my games. I trace this strange quirk back to purchase of the 1979 edition of the Dungeon Masters Guide. In that book, along with a plethora of other useful odds and ends, I discovered Appendix F: Gambling. It was only a matter of time then before my players found themselves settling down to a game of Zowie Slot Variant or the like in between dungeon crawls. (It is with sudden clarity that I now realize where I got the term “zowie!” from. I’ve used it as short-hand for describing anything really bizarre or grandiose in my dungeons for years, but it isn’t until right now that I see where I got this term from.)
In the years since then, I’ve added some more in-game games to my campaign. I got a lot of miles out of the adventure, “At the Spottle Parlor” from Dungeon #12, adding Spottle as a common game of chance in the major cities of the Eastern Reaches. I own a copy of Three-Dragon Ante, but haven’t had a chance to implement it yet, although I see the possibilities in it. The second level of Ol’ Nameless has a wheel of fortune waiting in a decaying game den. I’ve even mulled over purchasing the Ravenloft Forgotten Lore boxed set just to get my hands on the divination cards and dice that are included in it. I enjoy those kinds of props in my games.
Just about a year ago, during the course of adventuring in my Saturday night game, we came across a copy of the game “Wolves & Jackals” while exploring a crumbling tower. Due to events that occurred during that exploration, the party fled from the tower extremely short-handed in terms of treasure. By which I mean that the only thing we escaped with was a copy of “Wolves & Jackals.” Being our sole gain from the excursion, the game served as a running jokes for a few sessions, one of the highlights being our druid and sorcerer attempting to teach the druid’s two orc henchmen how to play the game – “I bet I can fit more of these little wolves in my mouth that you can!”
The game was obviously just a bit of campaign-color, not intended for anything more than perhaps a few sheckles if sold back in town. But being the frustrated, non-designing guy I was at the time, I got the idea of coming up how the game would actually be played. A few days later, I had cranked out the rules to "Wolves & Jackals." Those rules are presented below.
If you’re like me; the kind of person who gets giggly over the metageekery of playing games within games (those you who spend too much time fishing in World of Warcraft know what I’m talking about), maybe you’ll find some inspiration in this. Referees looking for a way to kill time before the rest of the players show up may get some brief enjoyment out of these rules as well.
Wolves & Jackals
The game:Packs of Wolves and Jackals are hungry, wishing to bring down prey. A game for two players, Wolves & Jackals combines all the elements of Chess, Checkers, Poker, strategy, and luck.
Playing Pieces:
As indicated below, Jackals are placed on dark squares along the two left-side rows and Wolves are placed on light squares on the two right-side rows. The circular chip (“The Prey”) is placed in the exact center of the board.
Players next ante their initial bets. Traditionally, 30 coins of a single denomination are used, their value agreed upon by both players. Each player antes 15 coins apiece and these are placed in the area labeled “The Mouth.”
Beginning Play:
Each player rolls one D10. The player with the highest number goes first. In the case of a tie, both players re-roll until a clear winner is decided.
Movement:
On his or her turn, a player may move one piece and one piece only. Initially, players may only move their pieces diagonally or in a straight line. Zigzagging is not allowed during the same turn. A player can move his piece either one or two squares. Players may not move a piece through a square currently occupied by another playing piece (either one of their own or their opponents). If their piece ends its movement next to a square not occupied by either an opponent’s piece or the Prey piece, his turn is over. If his piece’s move does end next to an opponent’s piece or the Prey, either diagonally or adjacent, he has the option to either end his turn with no further action, or to attack (or “Go for the Throat”) the adjacent piece.
If a player begins his turn with an opponent’s piece adjacent to one of his, he may choose to “Go for the Throat” of that piece as detailed below. The only difference is if a player’s piece successfully Throat’s another piece before he makes any movement, his turn does not end as normal. In fact, in some situations, a player might be able to Throat one piece, make a move if the Throat was successful, and position himself for a second Throat attempt all in the same turn. Even if the attacker fails his Throat attempt, he may then move as normal, escaping from a subsequent Throat attempt by his opponent.
Attacking – “Going for the Throat”:
If a player chooses to “Go for the Throat,” both he and his opponent each roll one D10. The player’s whose turn it currently is, is considered the attacker. Both die rolls are compared and the player with the highest roll is the winner. If the attacker has the highest roll, he immediately moves the attacking piece into the defender’s square. The attacker may now either dispatch the losing piece to The Cave, or attempt to drag it back to The Den. In either case, if the attacker has already moved this round, his turn ends after choosing which result he wishes. If the attacker successful performs a “Go for the Throat,” but has not moved yet this turn, he may either dispatch the losing piece to the cave and then move as normal or attempt to drag the losing piece back to the Den. If the defender has the highest roll, the attack is considered a failure, both pieces remain where they are, and the attacking player’s turn ends.
Resolving Combat
Dispatching to the Cave:
If the attacking player wins, he may decide to dispatch the losing piece to the area marked “The Cave.” The losing piece is immediately removed from play and placed in The Cave area next to the board. Any piece dispatched to the Cave remains there until A) the game ends, or B) a piece of the same side reaches any opponent’s space on the far end of the board (think like making a king in checkers). Upon doing so, the player may remove any one piece from the Cave and place it in any vacant starting square on his side of the board. The player’s turn then ends, but he may move the rescued piece as normal the following turn.
Dragging Back to the Den:
If the attacking player wins, he may decide to drag the losing piece back to his or her Den. The defeated piece remains in the attacker’s square and will move with the dragging piece each turn. If the player chooses this option, and has not yet moved this turn, the piece dragging the defeated piece may move back towards the Den. Otherwise, he must wait until his following turn to begin the drag. A Wolf or Jackal dragging either a defeated piece or the Prey may only move one space per turn. Additionally, the dragging piece may only move either horizontally or vertically. Diagonal moves are not allowed. The dragging piece may also not initiate an attack, but may defend itself if attacked. If the dragging piece reaches any of the three squares adjacent to the Den, the defeated piece is removed from play permanently. It cannot be reintroduced into play by any means.
Should a dragging piece be attacked before it reaches the Den, determine the outcome as usual. If the dragging piece is defeated, the dragged piece is immediately dispatched to the Cave, and the winner may decide to either dispatch the dragging piece to the Cave as well, or attempt to drag it back to the Den. In either case, play continues as above.
Ties:
In the case of a tie, the attacker may choose to continue the attempt at the Throat. In order to do so, he must ante up a new bet into the Mouth. The defending player may now match the new ante, match and raise the bet, or concede defeat. If the defender concedes, play continues as if the attacker won. If the defender matches the bet, the dice are rolled again, with the highest roll winning the Throat attempt. If the defender matches and raises, the attacker must now either meet the raise, meet and raise again, or concede defeat. Raises can continue back and forth until one side either meets the final raise or concedes defeat. If the second dice roll results in another tie, the process begins anew.
Bringing down the Prey:
One of the two victory conditions of Wolves and Jackals is to successfully drag the Prey piece back to your Den. In order to do this, you must first bring down the Prey. Bringing down the Prey requires you to have two of your own pieces adjacent to the Prey piece.
Any of the above diagrams are examples of “adjacent” pieces to determine if the Prey can be brought down. A player MUST have two pieces adjacent to the Prey in order to try and take it down.
Once a player has moved a second piece adjacent to the Prey, he may immediately attempt to bring down the Prey. This is a static roll. The player rolls both dice and must roll a combined total of 12 or higher. In the event of an 11 or less, the attempt fails and the player’s turn ends. If the result is 12 or higher, the Player must announce which piece will be attempting to drag the Prey back to the Den. The Prey chip is then placed under the dragging piece and his turn then ends.
On his next turn, the player may attempt to drag the Prey back to the Den. This is done exactly the same way as dragging an opposing piece back to the Den. The dragging piece may only move one space per turn, and only in a horizontal or vertical manner.
Attacking a Piece Dragging Prey:
An opposing piece may attempt to Go for the Throat of a piece dragging the Prey. This is resolved in exactly the same manner as Going for the Throat of an unburdened piece, with one exception. If the attacker successfully Throats the dragging piece, the Prey chip remains in the space occupied by the dragging piece and the defeated piece may either be dispatched to the Cave or dragged back to the Den. The attacking piece, however, remains in its own square and does not move into the defeated piece’s square as normal. The Prey chip is considered free and can only be brought down as detailed above (moving a second friendly piece into an adjacent square.
Winning the game
Wolves and Jackals may be won by either two ways:
1) By successfully dragging the Prey back to your Den, or
2) By being the last player with pieces remaining on the board. NOTE: to speed play, it’s considered good sportsmanship to concede the game if your last piece remaining is being dragged by your opponent.
The winning player collects whatever bets have been placed in the Mouth, and should another game be played, has the option of going first in that game.
Variants:
In some regions, Wolves and Jackals is played somewhat differently. Variants differ from region-to-region, so it’s a good idea to understand any variant rules before sitting down to play in a strange town.
In the years since then, I’ve added some more in-game games to my campaign. I got a lot of miles out of the adventure, “At the Spottle Parlor” from Dungeon #12, adding Spottle as a common game of chance in the major cities of the Eastern Reaches. I own a copy of Three-Dragon Ante, but haven’t had a chance to implement it yet, although I see the possibilities in it. The second level of Ol’ Nameless has a wheel of fortune waiting in a decaying game den. I’ve even mulled over purchasing the Ravenloft Forgotten Lore boxed set just to get my hands on the divination cards and dice that are included in it. I enjoy those kinds of props in my games.
Just about a year ago, during the course of adventuring in my Saturday night game, we came across a copy of the game “Wolves & Jackals” while exploring a crumbling tower. Due to events that occurred during that exploration, the party fled from the tower extremely short-handed in terms of treasure. By which I mean that the only thing we escaped with was a copy of “Wolves & Jackals.” Being our sole gain from the excursion, the game served as a running jokes for a few sessions, one of the highlights being our druid and sorcerer attempting to teach the druid’s two orc henchmen how to play the game – “I bet I can fit more of these little wolves in my mouth that you can!”
The game was obviously just a bit of campaign-color, not intended for anything more than perhaps a few sheckles if sold back in town. But being the frustrated, non-designing guy I was at the time, I got the idea of coming up how the game would actually be played. A few days later, I had cranked out the rules to "Wolves & Jackals." Those rules are presented below.
If you’re like me; the kind of person who gets giggly over the metageekery of playing games within games (those you who spend too much time fishing in World of Warcraft know what I’m talking about), maybe you’ll find some inspiration in this. Referees looking for a way to kill time before the rest of the players show up may get some brief enjoyment out of these rules as well.
Wolves & Jackals
The game:Packs of Wolves and Jackals are hungry, wishing to bring down prey. A game for two players, Wolves & Jackals combines all the elements of Chess, Checkers, Poker, strategy, and luck.
Playing Pieces:
- A standard chess board.
- 19 playing pieces. 8 light, 8 dark, and one circular chip to represent the Prey.
- Two 10-sided dice (known as “Teeth”) of two different colors.
As indicated below, Jackals are placed on dark squares along the two left-side rows and Wolves are placed on light squares on the two right-side rows. The circular chip (“The Prey”) is placed in the exact center of the board.
Players next ante their initial bets. Traditionally, 30 coins of a single denomination are used, their value agreed upon by both players. Each player antes 15 coins apiece and these are placed in the area labeled “The Mouth.”Beginning Play:
Each player rolls one D10. The player with the highest number goes first. In the case of a tie, both players re-roll until a clear winner is decided.
Movement:
On his or her turn, a player may move one piece and one piece only. Initially, players may only move their pieces diagonally or in a straight line. Zigzagging is not allowed during the same turn. A player can move his piece either one or two squares. Players may not move a piece through a square currently occupied by another playing piece (either one of their own or their opponents). If their piece ends its movement next to a square not occupied by either an opponent’s piece or the Prey piece, his turn is over. If his piece’s move does end next to an opponent’s piece or the Prey, either diagonally or adjacent, he has the option to either end his turn with no further action, or to attack (or “Go for the Throat”) the adjacent piece.
If a player begins his turn with an opponent’s piece adjacent to one of his, he may choose to “Go for the Throat” of that piece as detailed below. The only difference is if a player’s piece successfully Throat’s another piece before he makes any movement, his turn does not end as normal. In fact, in some situations, a player might be able to Throat one piece, make a move if the Throat was successful, and position himself for a second Throat attempt all in the same turn. Even if the attacker fails his Throat attempt, he may then move as normal, escaping from a subsequent Throat attempt by his opponent.
Attacking – “Going for the Throat”:
If a player chooses to “Go for the Throat,” both he and his opponent each roll one D10. The player’s whose turn it currently is, is considered the attacker. Both die rolls are compared and the player with the highest roll is the winner. If the attacker has the highest roll, he immediately moves the attacking piece into the defender’s square. The attacker may now either dispatch the losing piece to The Cave, or attempt to drag it back to The Den. In either case, if the attacker has already moved this round, his turn ends after choosing which result he wishes. If the attacker successful performs a “Go for the Throat,” but has not moved yet this turn, he may either dispatch the losing piece to the cave and then move as normal or attempt to drag the losing piece back to the Den. If the defender has the highest roll, the attack is considered a failure, both pieces remain where they are, and the attacking player’s turn ends.
Resolving Combat
Dispatching to the Cave:
If the attacking player wins, he may decide to dispatch the losing piece to the area marked “The Cave.” The losing piece is immediately removed from play and placed in The Cave area next to the board. Any piece dispatched to the Cave remains there until A) the game ends, or B) a piece of the same side reaches any opponent’s space on the far end of the board (think like making a king in checkers). Upon doing so, the player may remove any one piece from the Cave and place it in any vacant starting square on his side of the board. The player’s turn then ends, but he may move the rescued piece as normal the following turn.
Dragging Back to the Den:
If the attacking player wins, he may decide to drag the losing piece back to his or her Den. The defeated piece remains in the attacker’s square and will move with the dragging piece each turn. If the player chooses this option, and has not yet moved this turn, the piece dragging the defeated piece may move back towards the Den. Otherwise, he must wait until his following turn to begin the drag. A Wolf or Jackal dragging either a defeated piece or the Prey may only move one space per turn. Additionally, the dragging piece may only move either horizontally or vertically. Diagonal moves are not allowed. The dragging piece may also not initiate an attack, but may defend itself if attacked. If the dragging piece reaches any of the three squares adjacent to the Den, the defeated piece is removed from play permanently. It cannot be reintroduced into play by any means.
Should a dragging piece be attacked before it reaches the Den, determine the outcome as usual. If the dragging piece is defeated, the dragged piece is immediately dispatched to the Cave, and the winner may decide to either dispatch the dragging piece to the Cave as well, or attempt to drag it back to the Den. In either case, play continues as above.
Ties:
In the case of a tie, the attacker may choose to continue the attempt at the Throat. In order to do so, he must ante up a new bet into the Mouth. The defending player may now match the new ante, match and raise the bet, or concede defeat. If the defender concedes, play continues as if the attacker won. If the defender matches the bet, the dice are rolled again, with the highest roll winning the Throat attempt. If the defender matches and raises, the attacker must now either meet the raise, meet and raise again, or concede defeat. Raises can continue back and forth until one side either meets the final raise or concedes defeat. If the second dice roll results in another tie, the process begins anew.
Bringing down the Prey:
One of the two victory conditions of Wolves and Jackals is to successfully drag the Prey piece back to your Den. In order to do this, you must first bring down the Prey. Bringing down the Prey requires you to have two of your own pieces adjacent to the Prey piece.
Any of the above diagrams are examples of “adjacent” pieces to determine if the Prey can be brought down. A player MUST have two pieces adjacent to the Prey in order to try and take it down.
Once a player has moved a second piece adjacent to the Prey, he may immediately attempt to bring down the Prey. This is a static roll. The player rolls both dice and must roll a combined total of 12 or higher. In the event of an 11 or less, the attempt fails and the player’s turn ends. If the result is 12 or higher, the Player must announce which piece will be attempting to drag the Prey back to the Den. The Prey chip is then placed under the dragging piece and his turn then ends.
On his next turn, the player may attempt to drag the Prey back to the Den. This is done exactly the same way as dragging an opposing piece back to the Den. The dragging piece may only move one space per turn, and only in a horizontal or vertical manner.
Attacking a Piece Dragging Prey:
An opposing piece may attempt to Go for the Throat of a piece dragging the Prey. This is resolved in exactly the same manner as Going for the Throat of an unburdened piece, with one exception. If the attacker successfully Throats the dragging piece, the Prey chip remains in the space occupied by the dragging piece and the defeated piece may either be dispatched to the Cave or dragged back to the Den. The attacking piece, however, remains in its own square and does not move into the defeated piece’s square as normal. The Prey chip is considered free and can only be brought down as detailed above (moving a second friendly piece into an adjacent square.
Winning the game
Wolves and Jackals may be won by either two ways:
1) By successfully dragging the Prey back to your Den, or
2) By being the last player with pieces remaining on the board. NOTE: to speed play, it’s considered good sportsmanship to concede the game if your last piece remaining is being dragged by your opponent.
The winning player collects whatever bets have been placed in the Mouth, and should another game be played, has the option of going first in that game.
Variants:
In some regions, Wolves and Jackals is played somewhat differently. Variants differ from region-to-region, so it’s a good idea to understand any variant rules before sitting down to play in a strange town.
- Card Variant: In some places, cards are used to modify the results of the game. Some cards include:
- The Ranger – Your opponent loses a turn as The Ranger enters the forest, looking to hunt.
- Forest Fire – All pieces currently in play must return to their starting positions as a forest fire sweeps through the area.
- Loose Bite – A piece being dragged may immediately escape from the dragging piece and move as normal.
- The White Stag – The Prey is the mythical White Stag, requiring a roll of 16 or better to be successfully brought down.
- The Ranger – Your opponent loses a turn as The Ranger enters the forest, looking to hunt.
- Larger Teeth: Some regions use d12s or D20s instead of the traditional ten-sided “Teeth.” The roll needed to bring down the Prey is modified accordingly.
- No Cave: All pieces must be dragged back to the Den.
- No Dragging: All pieces are merely dispatched, with the exception of the Prey.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Smart Money
In my ongoing quest to recapture the feel of old-school AD&D while designing the so-far unnamed dungeon, I’ve found myself looking back at some of the rules and tropes of the old editions of the game. I’m still trying to resolve my post-modern gaming instincts with the spirit of the original rules, meaning that I’m looking for the reasons why things were laid out as they were. What was the intent of certain passages of the rules canon? Why this why and not that? It’s easy to say that they’re there because that’s what seemed like a good idea in the quaint and wild-and-wooly days of yore, but I don’t think that always the case. Perhaps I’m just engaging in ret-conning if only to delude myself, but it stands to reason that if I can deduce a purpose for a rule based on what else exists within the books, there might just be a method to the madness.
With this in mind, I recently re-examined one of the more laughed at rules in the both the original D&D and the 1st edition AD&D game: money = experience.
By the original rules, every gold piece worth of treasure you managed to haul out of the dungeon was worth 1 x.p. This of course was the reason why old-school adventuring parties entered into foul, dank holes with a mule train and enough hirelings and henchmen to stage a Broadway production. More grunt labor meant more wealth being able to be recovered, which meant more experience.
I’ll admit that I laughed at the concept that money somehow made you smarter and better at what you did. I accepted it, of course, but when they eliminated this rule in the 2nd edition of AD&D, I wasn’t sorry to see it go. At last we could go about getting our experience from much more obvious sources like role-playing and thinking up good plans and strategy. My, weren’t we all so silly before they dropped this rule?
But now I’m beginning to see the logic behind it.
I came to this conclusion while pondering the combat system in the pre-3.0 era. As you may or may not remember, combat rounds were originally one minute long and you rolled a single time during that round to determine if your attack was successful. Of course, many players pointed out that this was ridiculous. “I can swing my sword more than once a minute. Why do I only get one attack?” they cried. What they were forgetting, and what had been pointed out many times, is that the combat round in D&D is an abstract representation of battle. That d20 roll does not represent a single blow, but rather a full minute of dodging and weaving, parrying, thrusts, and counter-attacks. A high roll meant you were successful in doing damage to your opponent during that minute. It didn’t, and was never meant to, represent a single attack. A fact which the D&D rules have since disregarded.
With this abstract representation of combat in mind, I re-examined the “money for experience rules” and things began to clarify. It is not the money in and of itself which is awarding you the experience. Rather the money is a concrete measurement to determine and reward the intangible worth of the planning, execution and out-right luck that went into gaining the treasure.
That 10,000 x.p. you get is not from the crown and ruby scepter you pried from the Cold King’s Tomb. That 10,000 x.p. is the reward for gathering the information at the tavern about the death trap in the Chamber of Maidens. It’s for remembering to buy more iron spikes than usual after the incident in the Kobold Kaves. It for using teamwork to distract the fire-breathing zombies that guard the Cold King’s crypt. It’s a way of assigning a quantitative number to a qualitative series of actions. Perhaps this has been explained in this way in the rules before and I just missed it. If so, then I solely blame myself. But if not, I think I’ve seen the machinery behind the façade and it’s now very clear to me why the experience points for money rule was included.
With this in mind, I’m now heavily leaning towards going back to this method of calculating experience for an adventure. Some can argue that the addition of rules awarding x.p. for good ideas and role-playing makes this rule obsolete, and I’ll agree that that school of thought does have its merits. I recently pitched my tent within that very camp. But now that I see the reasoning behind the original rule, I’m much more open to embracing it in my own game.
This is only part of the discussion in regards this topic. There’s another aspect to the “money means experience” rule that has been on my mind, but there’s a lot going on this week as you can see, so I’ll return to this in a week or so with Part Two, tentatively entitled: “What I Learned at the Orgy.”
With this in mind, I recently re-examined one of the more laughed at rules in the both the original D&D and the 1st edition AD&D game: money = experience.
By the original rules, every gold piece worth of treasure you managed to haul out of the dungeon was worth 1 x.p. This of course was the reason why old-school adventuring parties entered into foul, dank holes with a mule train and enough hirelings and henchmen to stage a Broadway production. More grunt labor meant more wealth being able to be recovered, which meant more experience.
I’ll admit that I laughed at the concept that money somehow made you smarter and better at what you did. I accepted it, of course, but when they eliminated this rule in the 2nd edition of AD&D, I wasn’t sorry to see it go. At last we could go about getting our experience from much more obvious sources like role-playing and thinking up good plans and strategy. My, weren’t we all so silly before they dropped this rule?
But now I’m beginning to see the logic behind it.
I came to this conclusion while pondering the combat system in the pre-3.0 era. As you may or may not remember, combat rounds were originally one minute long and you rolled a single time during that round to determine if your attack was successful. Of course, many players pointed out that this was ridiculous. “I can swing my sword more than once a minute. Why do I only get one attack?” they cried. What they were forgetting, and what had been pointed out many times, is that the combat round in D&D is an abstract representation of battle. That d20 roll does not represent a single blow, but rather a full minute of dodging and weaving, parrying, thrusts, and counter-attacks. A high roll meant you were successful in doing damage to your opponent during that minute. It didn’t, and was never meant to, represent a single attack. A fact which the D&D rules have since disregarded.
With this abstract representation of combat in mind, I re-examined the “money for experience rules” and things began to clarify. It is not the money in and of itself which is awarding you the experience. Rather the money is a concrete measurement to determine and reward the intangible worth of the planning, execution and out-right luck that went into gaining the treasure.
That 10,000 x.p. you get is not from the crown and ruby scepter you pried from the Cold King’s Tomb. That 10,000 x.p. is the reward for gathering the information at the tavern about the death trap in the Chamber of Maidens. It’s for remembering to buy more iron spikes than usual after the incident in the Kobold Kaves. It for using teamwork to distract the fire-breathing zombies that guard the Cold King’s crypt. It’s a way of assigning a quantitative number to a qualitative series of actions. Perhaps this has been explained in this way in the rules before and I just missed it. If so, then I solely blame myself. But if not, I think I’ve seen the machinery behind the façade and it’s now very clear to me why the experience points for money rule was included.
With this in mind, I’m now heavily leaning towards going back to this method of calculating experience for an adventure. Some can argue that the addition of rules awarding x.p. for good ideas and role-playing makes this rule obsolete, and I’ll agree that that school of thought does have its merits. I recently pitched my tent within that very camp. But now that I see the reasoning behind the original rule, I’m much more open to embracing it in my own game.
This is only part of the discussion in regards this topic. There’s another aspect to the “money means experience” rule that has been on my mind, but there’s a lot going on this week as you can see, so I’ll return to this in a week or so with Part Two, tentatively entitled: “What I Learned at the Orgy.”
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Resolving Challenges
There’s an axiom amongst the old school gaming crowd that goes: “Challenge the player, not the character.” While this has been applied to various aspects of the game, it mostly has to do with resolving challenges that the character might encounter during the course of his adventuring career that are not easily covered by D&D’s “class and level” style of character definition.
By this I mean that D&D in its original format provided no system for determining the success or failure of a character’s actions outside of what is laid out in the rules. Combat, spell-casting, hearing noise, climbing walls, assassination, detecting secret doors, etc. all had set rules for resolving the outcome of those actions. But what happens when a fighting-man from a pre-industrial fantasy world wants to say, design and construct a hot air balloon? Or mend his own armor? Or navigate dangerous rapids in a crude kayak?
As the rules originally stood, such decisions where entirely within the realm of the DM’s fiat. The referee could allow, restrict or assign a random chance of success based on what he felt was appropriate. There’s nothing wrong with this method, as it is part-and-parcel with the original spirit of the game. If those rules are established at the start of the game or campaign, then we have no problem. But as the game evolved in various editions and more and more rpgs were published with alternate task resolution rules, this was no longer good enough for many players.
These players were the first of the D&D rules lawyers and represented a shift in attitude away from the rules designed by wargamers for wargamers that OD&D was. As TSR sought to expand its market from a niche into a national phenomenon, it would have to address the “sketchy” nature of its original rule set to make it more friendly to those potential players who were used to having the rules detailed on the inside cover of a box.
If my memory serves me, the first attempt to rectify task resolution was the “roll under your ability” method. The taking of a d20 and hoping you roll low. I’m not sure when or where this rule “suggestion” as it probably first was offered appeared. It may have been in an issue of The Dragon or buried amongst the convoluted organization of the 1st edition DMG. It certainly had to be in effect by the time that Oriental Adventures saw publishing, since OA introduced the concept of using proficiencies for task resolution.
The proficiency-based model would be elaborated on in the Dungeoneer’s Survival Guide and would eventually come to full bloom in the 2nd Edition of AD&D. I know more than my fair share of gamers who were convinced that the proficiency system “killed AD&D,” either for being the final nail in the coffin of the freewheeling earlier style of the game, or for adding yet another kink to character creation and thus prolonging the process, which of course subtracts from how much time you have to feed your latest creation to the slavering jaws of a dungeon beastie.
3rd edition saw the official introduction of skills to characters, although I understand it was available as an optional system under 2nd edition. It also, as far as I’m concerned, reached the apex of the flight from “challenging the player, not the character” way of thinking. Apparently, WotC seemed worried that people were still using Charisma as a dump stat. So to rectify this, they started loading a whole slew of abilities under the oversight of Charisma. From turning undead to sorcerer’s spell casting to gathering friggin’ information, they were determined to make sure that every attribute had a purpose. This, my friends, is challenging the character.
A “Gather Information” skill? Whatever happened to buying a few rounds in the tavern and keeping an ear open, or gods forbid, asking the NPCs intelligent questions? It seems determining the success of such tactics was still too vaguely defined for some people…
So with this in mind, I had to make a decision as to how I might approach such challenge resolutions. I was going to be using AD&D, but was I going to allow the optional proficiency system? (Even in 2nd edition it is optional and labeled as such right in the Player’s Handbook.) I waffled on the matter for a day or two before I made my decision. In the end, I would include the use of proficiencies in the game.
There were two reasons why I decided to. The first was because that I feel that proficiencies actually bring more to the game in regards to character back-story. There’s nothing to prevent a power-gamer from loading up on what he feels would be useful proficiencies like Blind-fighting, Mountaineering or Tracking. I can cope with that. It’s the character who takes proficiencies that may not seem particularly useful, but are very appropriate to the character he or she has in mind, that really add to the game and I reward such choices by making them useful.
The second reason is that I feel that using proficiencies and challenging the player are not in and of themselves opponents. I use proficiencies as gateways to provide the players information, not to solve problems themselves. What the players do with that information is entirely up to them.
While this continues to separate me from a true “grognard” in gaming style and design, it does reflect what I think of when I picture Advanced Dungeons & Dragons and when I hope to convey in my games and design. I’ve slashed the number of proficiencies available at character creations and rolled a few of them under a single heading, but they’re still there. I’ll modify the chance of success by anywhere from -10 to +10 to the roll based on probability of success, but I find that that is easier for me than concerning myself with DC #s and the like.
That’s the plan as it stands, but as we known, plans rarely survive contact with the enemy. I’m leaving myself open to change.
By this I mean that D&D in its original format provided no system for determining the success or failure of a character’s actions outside of what is laid out in the rules. Combat, spell-casting, hearing noise, climbing walls, assassination, detecting secret doors, etc. all had set rules for resolving the outcome of those actions. But what happens when a fighting-man from a pre-industrial fantasy world wants to say, design and construct a hot air balloon? Or mend his own armor? Or navigate dangerous rapids in a crude kayak?
As the rules originally stood, such decisions where entirely within the realm of the DM’s fiat. The referee could allow, restrict or assign a random chance of success based on what he felt was appropriate. There’s nothing wrong with this method, as it is part-and-parcel with the original spirit of the game. If those rules are established at the start of the game or campaign, then we have no problem. But as the game evolved in various editions and more and more rpgs were published with alternate task resolution rules, this was no longer good enough for many players.
These players were the first of the D&D rules lawyers and represented a shift in attitude away from the rules designed by wargamers for wargamers that OD&D was. As TSR sought to expand its market from a niche into a national phenomenon, it would have to address the “sketchy” nature of its original rule set to make it more friendly to those potential players who were used to having the rules detailed on the inside cover of a box.
If my memory serves me, the first attempt to rectify task resolution was the “roll under your ability” method. The taking of a d20 and hoping you roll low. I’m not sure when or where this rule “suggestion” as it probably first was offered appeared. It may have been in an issue of The Dragon or buried amongst the convoluted organization of the 1st edition DMG. It certainly had to be in effect by the time that Oriental Adventures saw publishing, since OA introduced the concept of using proficiencies for task resolution.
The proficiency-based model would be elaborated on in the Dungeoneer’s Survival Guide and would eventually come to full bloom in the 2nd Edition of AD&D. I know more than my fair share of gamers who were convinced that the proficiency system “killed AD&D,” either for being the final nail in the coffin of the freewheeling earlier style of the game, or for adding yet another kink to character creation and thus prolonging the process, which of course subtracts from how much time you have to feed your latest creation to the slavering jaws of a dungeon beastie.
3rd edition saw the official introduction of skills to characters, although I understand it was available as an optional system under 2nd edition. It also, as far as I’m concerned, reached the apex of the flight from “challenging the player, not the character” way of thinking. Apparently, WotC seemed worried that people were still using Charisma as a dump stat. So to rectify this, they started loading a whole slew of abilities under the oversight of Charisma. From turning undead to sorcerer’s spell casting to gathering friggin’ information, they were determined to make sure that every attribute had a purpose. This, my friends, is challenging the character.
A “Gather Information” skill? Whatever happened to buying a few rounds in the tavern and keeping an ear open, or gods forbid, asking the NPCs intelligent questions? It seems determining the success of such tactics was still too vaguely defined for some people…
So with this in mind, I had to make a decision as to how I might approach such challenge resolutions. I was going to be using AD&D, but was I going to allow the optional proficiency system? (Even in 2nd edition it is optional and labeled as such right in the Player’s Handbook.) I waffled on the matter for a day or two before I made my decision. In the end, I would include the use of proficiencies in the game.
There were two reasons why I decided to. The first was because that I feel that proficiencies actually bring more to the game in regards to character back-story. There’s nothing to prevent a power-gamer from loading up on what he feels would be useful proficiencies like Blind-fighting, Mountaineering or Tracking. I can cope with that. It’s the character who takes proficiencies that may not seem particularly useful, but are very appropriate to the character he or she has in mind, that really add to the game and I reward such choices by making them useful.
The second reason is that I feel that using proficiencies and challenging the player are not in and of themselves opponents. I use proficiencies as gateways to provide the players information, not to solve problems themselves. What the players do with that information is entirely up to them.
While this continues to separate me from a true “grognard” in gaming style and design, it does reflect what I think of when I picture Advanced Dungeons & Dragons and when I hope to convey in my games and design. I’ve slashed the number of proficiencies available at character creations and rolled a few of them under a single heading, but they’re still there. I’ll modify the chance of success by anywhere from -10 to +10 to the roll based on probability of success, but I find that that is easier for me than concerning myself with DC #s and the like.
That’s the plan as it stands, but as we known, plans rarely survive contact with the enemy. I’m leaving myself open to change.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
The Edition Question
Once I had made the decision to get back behind the DM’s screen, the next logical step was to determine what set of rules I was going to use. As I mentioned in my post regarding my role-playing credentials, I had logged most of my time on either sides of the screen using the Basic, 1st Edition or 2nd Edition rule-sets. When 3.0 debuted, I, like a lot of gamers, bought the three core books. I even ran a couple of short weekend-long adventures for some friends from college using those books. But those few adventures were the exception to my gaming dry period.
I had a set of the 3.5 rules, which I had bought during the time I was playing D&D Online. Since the MMORPG used the 3.5 rules, I figured a hardcopy available for reference would be useful. But I lost interest with D&DO, so the 3.5 rules were gathering dust along with my other RPG books.
Now that I had made the leap to get back into the game, what should I do? Should I go with the AD&D rules that I knew so well, or should I keep up with the kids today and be hip to the new scene?
In the end, I made the wrong choice. I chose to use 3.5.
When I say I made the wrong choice, I mean that I made the wrong choice for me. This is not a value judgment on anyone’s preferred flavor of the game. In fact, I hope to keep myself clear from the “my rules are better than your rules” argument. If it works for you, fine. 3.5 was simply wrong for me.
(Bear in mind this blog is about an old gamer getting back to his roots. We’re not going to dwell too much on either 3.5 or 4th Edition around these parts.)
My mistake in choosing 3.5 soon became apparent as I began to stock the dungeon that I had planned. What used to be a rather quick and easy process became a grinding slog of constantly referencing the rule books, determining DCs, making notes of possible modifiers to skill checks, advancing monsters, determining Challenge Ratings, etc. The two-line stat blocks that I had used in my youth became paragraphs of information, detailing abilities, skills, attacks of opportunity, whatever. Shit. The game hadn’t even started and I was already overwhelmed.
I made another poor decision at this point. I decided to press onward. Instead of just throwing my hands up and returning to what I knew best, I let myself believe that this would just get easier, and the fact that it was giving me so much difficulty was because I had been away from the game so long. Determined to finish this, I kept plugging away. But there was no joy in what I was doing. What was supposed to be an attempt to reacquaint myself with a hobby that had given me so much joy in the past, became something I just didn’t want to spend time on when I got home from work.
I took a venting bitch session with my friend (and current DM) to set me straight. Go with what you know.
I did. Keeping the dungeon and the encounters the same, I went back and started to rewrite everything using the AD&D rules that I was familiar with. Suddenly, it became fun again. Within a week, I had remembered what was so enjoyable about being a DM and watching something you created come to life on the page. While the need to reference my old books was still there, I at least knew where to find things and how to make it work with what I had planned. Maybe getting back into the game wasn’t such a bad idea after all…
What’s strangest about this whole wrong turn in the decision-making process for me was that I’m simply not someone who has to be on the vanguard of new things. I’ve owned a cellphone for less than a year. I don’t own an MP3 player of any kind. Despite a three-year tour of duty as a web designer, I’m not really up-to-date on computer applications or the Web. My job is working with historical documents.
So why this misguided belief that 3.5 was the only way to go?
I think that I had let myself believe that there’d simply be no players interested in the older editions. I figured that 3.5 was the only way to go if I had any hope of generating any interest in a game. I’d also developed some sort of bizarre “support product tunnel vision.” If I was running an older version of the game, how could I use the latest gee-gaws and knickknacks from Dragon.? Somehow, I couldn’t see the twenty-plus years of notes, supplements, and back issues of Dragon that I already owned.
Another factor was that this all occurred before I made the conscious decision to reconnect with my old-school experiences playing the game and to try and infuse my own creation with that self-same spirit. If I had that mindset established before I put pencil to graph paper, it never would have been an issue.
Deciding to go back to using AD&D rather than 3.5 or 4th Edition has made a world of difference for me. Had I decided to stick with the latest flavor, my return to the game would have been very brief and I’d still be missing out on a part of my past that gave me so much pleasure.
If you’ll excuse me now, I have a few rooms to fill one Sublevel One…
I had a set of the 3.5 rules, which I had bought during the time I was playing D&D Online. Since the MMORPG used the 3.5 rules, I figured a hardcopy available for reference would be useful. But I lost interest with D&DO, so the 3.5 rules were gathering dust along with my other RPG books.
Now that I had made the leap to get back into the game, what should I do? Should I go with the AD&D rules that I knew so well, or should I keep up with the kids today and be hip to the new scene?
In the end, I made the wrong choice. I chose to use 3.5.
When I say I made the wrong choice, I mean that I made the wrong choice for me. This is not a value judgment on anyone’s preferred flavor of the game. In fact, I hope to keep myself clear from the “my rules are better than your rules” argument. If it works for you, fine. 3.5 was simply wrong for me.
(Bear in mind this blog is about an old gamer getting back to his roots. We’re not going to dwell too much on either 3.5 or 4th Edition around these parts.)
My mistake in choosing 3.5 soon became apparent as I began to stock the dungeon that I had planned. What used to be a rather quick and easy process became a grinding slog of constantly referencing the rule books, determining DCs, making notes of possible modifiers to skill checks, advancing monsters, determining Challenge Ratings, etc. The two-line stat blocks that I had used in my youth became paragraphs of information, detailing abilities, skills, attacks of opportunity, whatever. Shit. The game hadn’t even started and I was already overwhelmed.
I made another poor decision at this point. I decided to press onward. Instead of just throwing my hands up and returning to what I knew best, I let myself believe that this would just get easier, and the fact that it was giving me so much difficulty was because I had been away from the game so long. Determined to finish this, I kept plugging away. But there was no joy in what I was doing. What was supposed to be an attempt to reacquaint myself with a hobby that had given me so much joy in the past, became something I just didn’t want to spend time on when I got home from work.
I took a venting bitch session with my friend (and current DM) to set me straight. Go with what you know.
I did. Keeping the dungeon and the encounters the same, I went back and started to rewrite everything using the AD&D rules that I was familiar with. Suddenly, it became fun again. Within a week, I had remembered what was so enjoyable about being a DM and watching something you created come to life on the page. While the need to reference my old books was still there, I at least knew where to find things and how to make it work with what I had planned. Maybe getting back into the game wasn’t such a bad idea after all…
What’s strangest about this whole wrong turn in the decision-making process for me was that I’m simply not someone who has to be on the vanguard of new things. I’ve owned a cellphone for less than a year. I don’t own an MP3 player of any kind. Despite a three-year tour of duty as a web designer, I’m not really up-to-date on computer applications or the Web. My job is working with historical documents.
So why this misguided belief that 3.5 was the only way to go?
I think that I had let myself believe that there’d simply be no players interested in the older editions. I figured that 3.5 was the only way to go if I had any hope of generating any interest in a game. I’d also developed some sort of bizarre “support product tunnel vision.” If I was running an older version of the game, how could I use the latest gee-gaws and knickknacks from Dragon.? Somehow, I couldn’t see the twenty-plus years of notes, supplements, and back issues of Dragon that I already owned.
Another factor was that this all occurred before I made the conscious decision to reconnect with my old-school experiences playing the game and to try and infuse my own creation with that self-same spirit. If I had that mindset established before I put pencil to graph paper, it never would have been an issue.
Deciding to go back to using AD&D rather than 3.5 or 4th Edition has made a world of difference for me. Had I decided to stick with the latest flavor, my return to the game would have been very brief and I’d still be missing out on a part of my past that gave me so much pleasure.
If you’ll excuse me now, I have a few rooms to fill one Sublevel One…
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