Monday, August 30, 2010

Obscure Octavo: Bale Snail

I was out shopping the day before our last session of Watchfires & Thrones with the specific goal of finding a small plastic lobster. I wanted to introduce a giant crayfish into the next game and I was hoping to locate a suitably impressive substitute. Unfortunately, despite my best efforts, one could simply not be found. However, I did come across a very nifty plastic snail at one of the arts & crafts stores (A.C. Moore) near me and I promptly decided that it was going to challenge the party in the next adventure. When it was revealed, amidst all the "oohs," "my gods", and "what's that?" that I heard yesterday was the following: "Mike's not allowed to go shopping any more." I love hearing that as a referee.

Without further ado, I give you the bale snail.

Bale Snail

No. Enc.: 1 (0)
Alignment: Neutral
Movement: 45’ (15’)
Armor Class: 4
Hit Dice: 4+4
Attacks: 1 (bite, crush, or spittle)
Damage: 1d6+1/1d4/1d4+2
Save: F3
Morale: 7
Hoard Class: None
XP: 290

This fearsome mollusk averages 8’ in height at the apex of its gray-black shell. The creature gets its name from both its aggressive disposition and the naturally occurring pattern on its shell that resembles a stylized Death’s head similar to that found on some species of moths.

A bale snail attacks with either its rasp-like mouth or by spitting a gob of acidic mucus. This acidic spittle inflicts 1d4+2 points of damage and has a range of 60’. Anyone struck by the substance must save vs. breath attacks twice. If the first save is successful, the victim takes half damage from the attack. If the second roll is failed, the acid dissolves the victim’s armor or clothing (75% chance) or weapon (25%). Metal objects enjoy a +2 bonus to this saving throw. A bale snail may only make a spit attack once every other round.

This great mollusk may overbear its prey with its tremendous bulk. Provided the snail has enough movement to overrun it victim, it makes a normal attack roll to crush its opponent. The victim must make a save vs. petrification (modified by any STR or DEX adjustments the character has) or become pinned by the snail’s foot, taking 1d4 points of crushing damage each round. Victims pinned by the snail can free themselves with a successful STR check at a +3 penalty or be pulled free by a comrade making an unmodified STR check.

If a bale snail fails its morale check, it is 90% likely to withdraw into its shell until its attackers leave the area. While inside its shell, the bale snail has an armor class of -6.

Sunday, August 29, 2010

...And Things Are Good

The day's game session is over and everyone had a good time. The recap has already been finished and the pictures have been posted. Next week, the game is taking the weekend off so I'm free to not think about the campaign for a day or three and enjoy a well-deserved break.

I found The Chronicles of Amber Vols. I & II for sale at my local library for a buck apiece. Having never read any of the Amber novels despite an extensive fantasy background, I look forward to tackling them when their appointed slots in the reading schedule come up.

I've received the cover piece for my unnamed book this week and I'm very pleased.

Tonight, very faintly, you can smell the first hint of autumn drifting in the evening air.

I hope all is well with you.

Saturday, August 28, 2010

In Search of Last Minute Paper Minis

Due to various projects staring me in the face, I've grown slack in my miniature painting regiment. As such, I realize that I won't have certain pieces that I might need for upcoming sessions finished by game time. While I don't need minis, I do like using them when we play at the FLGS as they attract attention and get people wondering what we're playing.

I'm looking for some paper animal minis--horses, wolves, bears, cougars, even big game. I've taken a look on RPGNow.com and I've seen a big sheet of them for $3.00. However, I'm feeling a little stingy at the moment and if I can find them for even cheaper ($0.99 is around what I'm willing to pay) or for free, so much the better. If anyone knows where I might be able to find some animals, please let me know. Orcs, adventurers, and monsters are a snap to find, but more everyday beasties are eluding me.

Thanks!

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Looking toward the Future (and Seeing the Mushroom Clouds)

Looking back over the list of Labyrinth Lord game sessions, I suddenly realized that March 7th was our first meeting. That means we’ve got one more session before Watchfires & Thrones hits our six-month anniversary. Where ever does the time go?

I’ve mentioned it before on this blog that I find that the average shelf life of a regular campaign tends to run about 18 months. After a year and a half of playing the same character in the same setting using the same rules, a lot of players start getting a little punchy and begin fidgeting in their chairs. That’s a good time to take a break.

If this rule of thumb applies to W&T (and I’m not certain it will yet, as the majority of the players are still finding their feet with their PCs after so many early characters perished), this means we’re a third of the way through the campaign’s lifespan. Looking at where the PCs are, this sounds about right. In another twelve months, the longest surviving PCs will be fast approaching “name level” and the focus of the campaign should be shifting towards establishing strongholds in the wilderness (I readily admit that this is pure presumption on my part and the actual in-game results might vary greatly).

So what then to do when the end of next summer rolls around?

On an earlier, now-defunct blog, I once ruminated on what games I have left in me. By this I mean, what RPG titles am I willing to run as extended campaigns rather than one-shots or weekend long crazy-go-bananas marathons? That list turned out to be incredibly short. When the dust cleared, I found myself looking at D&D (in whatever flavor), Call of Cthulhu, Wraith: The Oblivion, my “Weird Game” (a modern supernatural heart breaker), and, of course, the radioactive goodness of Gamma World.

Now that I’ve gotten to know the guys I play with fairly well, it seems that the only correct answer to the above question is Gamma World. Hard core role-players this group is not, so that takes Wraith and the Weird Game out of the picture, and I’m pretty certain the guys have had enough of dying under my cruel ministrations, which means CoC is probably not the best material to shift gears with. Plus, Gamma World has been mentioned once or twice in casual conversation as a “game I’d love to play again.” There’s a lot of assumption in making this decision (Will the same group still be together in a year? Will they be willing to trade in elves, dwarves, and barbarians for blaster-toting gorillas and vampiric humanoids? Maybe I should ask everybody before I start making judgment calls like this?), but a guy’s got to have goals in life, right?

A year gives me plenty of lead-in time to get the game world in order before the first eight-toed foot touches down on it. After my efforts to whip up a pulp sword & sorcery game world in short order for W&T didn’t turn out to be what I hoped it would, I’m a little gun shy about trying to build anything sandbox-like in too little time. And it has been a while since I really dabbled in the Apocalypse so the more time I have to fine tune the setting the better.

I figure with a year to work on things, plus Rob Conley’s helpful blueprint for building a sandbox setting, I could have a pretty damn exciting post-apocalyptic campaign world for the players to run amuck in—even if I put no more than two hours into it each week. One hundred and four hours of design time is a pretty solid amount of world building.

So that’s my plan then, provided the guys don’t shoot me down outright. The fall of 2011 will be Armageddon around these parts. Looks like it’s time to start preparing for fallout.

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Capitalizing on Hysteria

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(Because if I didn't do it, somebody else would)

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

“Egads, there are a lot of you!”

The Watchfires & Thrones group has developed a glandular condition and grown to an unnatural size. Last Sunday’s game saw me staring out at a sea of faces crowded around a single kitchen table. With the return of one player who had been away for two months on personal business and the addition of a new player, our formally tiny little band is now nine people (eight players plus me behind the screen). This tread seems to be continuing, too. Next Sunday, we’re going to have a guest player (a gamer who’s up visiting and will be playing the dwarf hireling) and possibly introduce another regular player to the group. It seem like just a few weeks ago it was me and one other player meeting up at the FLGS to try and drum up interest. We we’re looking for two more players to start with because, as I said back then, if we could get three, we could get more. My oracular powers are truly astounding.

But it’s an often-repeated fact that while size does not matter, being entertaining does (case in point: the 1998 version of Godzilla). This has been my number one concern since our group first began to show signs of growing robust. This campaign has been my first true refereeing gig since my brief turn behind the screen to playtest Stonehell—a session that revealed to me exactly how out of practice I had become during my time away from the hobby—and I’ve been anxious not to screw it up. Yet, from all indications, my players are seemingly having the time of their lives. The phrase “best campaign I’ve ever been in” has been used within my earshot on at least two occasions so I must be doing something right (either that or my players have suffered through a long string of completely abominable games before meeting me).

I’m continuing to fine tune the game as we go, allowing it to develop organically through play and by where the PCs’ interests take them. Some house rules continue to be modified (we had a change in critical hit protocol last session) and others wait in the wings to be unleashed (counterspelling is going in the first time the adventurers meet up with spell-throwing enemies). I’ve planted the very first seeds to get people thinking about the D&D endgame now and to start casting their eye towards the frontier.

The biggest issue I’m wrestling with is when and if to say, “No more.” There is part of me (a very big part) that says, “Keep ‘em coming. I can take on all challenges,” and see if Watchfires & Thrones ever reaches the mythic numbers of Eld that required a Caller to keep things running smooth. I can’t lie: having a huge group of people playing old school D&D would be amazingly cool, especially since there’s plans underway to greatly increase our FLGS’s available gaming space so that it could accommodate a large group playing a single RPG. However, I’m not so self-deluded that I fail to see that my own ego is largely behind this desire.

Another option would be to investigate the feasibility of splitting the group into two separate parties that meet at different times and/or days. I’m not certain everyone would agree to this because the camaraderie of the players is one of the reasons to attend each week. Having to divide the players would impact the social aspect of the game now that we’ve gotten comfortable with one another over the last eighteen sessions.

The last course is to firmly set our limit and to turn away any newcomers. That number should be one lower than the amount of players I feel I can't comfortably handle. Unfortunately, I won’t know that number until I reach it. Back in college, I ran a very short-lived World of Cockamamie Darkness game that had either ten or eleven players running all types of critters from WoD titles. I’ve organized LARP games with thirty-plus players, but that sort of controlled chaos doesn’t really compare to sitting everyone around a table and keeping things flowing. The number of players I can handle in a Labyrinth Lord game remains an unknown. However, the fact that I spent all of last Sunday’s game literally on my toes (refereeing standing up) suggests that we might be getting close to that magic number.

All this brings me to the Number One Lesson I have learned since February of this year. It’s a pretty harsh-sounding one and some people might misinterpret my tough love for simply being a dick, but here it goes:

With very few exceptions, if you’re not playing the game you want to play, it because you’ve made the choice not to.

That’s a solid truth, people. If you want to play a certain title, go out there and make it happen. Don’t stop trying until you find the absolute minimum number of people you need and then start playing. If that group falls apart, find another one. Just keep at it. You might have to make some compromises (play online rather than face-to-face, letting the complete stranger who hangs out at the game store sit in on a game, coming out of the gamer closet and asking some non-gamer acquaintances if they want to try, or meeting once a month rather than once a week), but you will be playing the game you want to. To give up before you reach your goal is a choice on your part and you only have yourself to blame for it.

Jim Raggi’s got some excellent advice on how to go about drumming up a group. I’ll admit that I thought he was being abrasive in his presentation when I read the piece a long time back, but, after being out there and playing the game I want to play, I’m now in complete agreement with him. You’re the reason for your predicament, pal. Take this as your wake-up call and do something about it.

I no longer expect to ever be not playing the game I want. Should I find myself in a position where I’m not playing the game I wish I was, I’ll take steps to rectify that situation, and should I fail to do so, I’ll know that that is because I either consciously or unconsciously made the decision to. In some cases, that decision might be the correct one (like in the case of having a newborn baby or having to meet financial necessities), but it is still a choice I made.

Monday, August 16, 2010

Obscure Octavo: River Queens

From an undated letter signed by Praxel Nevarran:

I am not certain what to make of this latest, Grodari. Even to my ears, well-tuned as they are to the unbelievable stories that sprout in secluded villages, the most recent tale I’ve collected seems likely born from the fumes of strong spirits, yet I admit that there is something to it that strikes a faint but undeniable chord of truth. Perhaps your encyclopedic knowledge of folklore might pour more light on this story.

While staying at a drafty roadhouse located in the Stremenfold Valley, I overheard three of the local goodmen loudly discussing a recent death in the village. It seemed that three days prior to my arrival in the hamlet, the body of a young man was found in the reeds along the local riverbank. Although from the facts it seemed as if the lad was simply a victim of accidental drowning, certain wise folks—you know the sort—insist that his death was much more insidious. It was from the lips of these codgers that I first heard tell of the “river queens.”

At first, these local boogities seem to be of the same vein as the nixies and the rusalka, both of which we’re well acquainted with. But as I pried more of the tale from these men, the particulars diverge from ones associated with those entities, leaving me to believe that there is either nothing more to these tales than pastoral imaginations run amuck around a winter’s night fire or that this creature is something scholars have yet to document. Here is what I could get the men to divulge:

A river queen seems to be a hitherto unknown type of vampiric elemental, one tied to a local body of water as the name suggests. Yet, despite this connection, the creature is encountered away from her sodden den and is most commonly found in the midst of the local community—candidly, of course, for if her true identity was known, she would be unable to feed and be driven off. (I use the feminine pronoun when referring to this creature, but this is simple convenience. If truly elemental in nature as the tales suggest, gender is likely neuter or simply not applicable.)

A river queen appears as a human woman, one of slight, almost boyish frame, and frequently with short, dark hair. She is unremarkable of form, being neither too comely nor too plain to attract the notice of anyone other than her victim, and she bears the physical traits most common to the region—again so as to attract no attention to herself. Although elemental in nature and aquatic as well, there are no telltale signs to alert observers to this fact. Amongst those who have survived the attentions of a river queen, a few report that her body bears marking similar to those worn by Etrani sailors or northern savages. In these cases, the marking were all located in places upon the body covered by clothing and only became visible when the river queen disrobed.

A river queen’s prime purpose to walk amongst civilization is to feed, and it is in this aspect of her diet that she resembles the wampyr or succubus, for she draws sustenance from mortal energy. However, unlike the wampyr who drinks the blood of its victim, or the succubus who sustains herself on sex and the fluids associated with that act, the river queen feeds on the creative energies of her victim. She is a negative Muse, drawing power on the very act of creation, much to the detriment of the creator.

She does this by attracting the attentions of one with an abundance of creative power, typically an artist, musician, writer, or performer, but in times of severe hunger, an over-imaginative farm hand or dreamy eyed dairy maid will suffice. Such creative individuals are often shunned by less imaginative peers or have removed themselves from society to pursue their chosen art form, making them easy prey for a river queen who comes with attentiveness and flattery. She works herself into her chosen victim’s confidence, often striking up a friendship or even more intimate relationship with the subject. In many cases, this newfound attention is enough to cause the victim to embark on a sudden binge of creativity with the river queen serving as his or her Muse. This obviously is to the elemental’s boon as she feeds on this torrent of imaginative energy.

Over time, the river queen’s feeding outstrips her victim’s ability to produce, leaving the artist uninspired and desperately grasping for the touch of inspiration. It is during this period that the river queen’s attentions become most obvious, for the victim begins suffering from insomnia and the physical traits of that affliction begin to manifest themselves on the subject. The subject may begin to abuse alcohol or other intoxicants at this time, leaving them with the physical signs of that decline as well. All too often, the artist, sensitive soul that he is, will ultimately take his own life in depression over the loss of his creativity. The river queen, her food source exhausted, now moves on to her next meal.

Although both the wampyr and succubus are nocturnal entities, the river queen seems unaffected by such restrictions and has been encountered both day and night by her victim and his or her associates. It is known that a river queen often removes herself from the presence of her victim, often for days at a time, but the purpose of these absences is unknown. It is possible that she must return to her watery lair to reinvigorate herself in her natural element, but it is also just as likely that she only engaging in a form of conservation, allowing her prey to recharge their own creative energies in order to prolong the duration of her feeding.

These absences are often the sole indicator that a subject is being victimized by a river queen. According to folklore, some friends of a river queen’s victim will seek out the creature during a time when she is away from her prey. Believing that the river queen is nothing more than an over-controlling paramour, these good intentioned acquaintances hope to beg the creature to leave the subject alone, but their efforts to locate her home or find anyone else who knows her always comes to naught. Her inaccessibility applies to her victim as well. Many victims of a river queen become enraptured with their victimizer and miss her destructive attentions when she’s away. These poor souls wander about in search of their poisonous Muse to no avail. If they were of sound mind, this vanishing might alert them to the identity of their quarry, but alas the victim’s judgment has been compromised at this stage.

(There is an exception to the above in a singular tale. In this one case, the victim of a river queen attempted to contact his fiendish lover during one of her absences. While his attempts to locate her were unsuccessful, he did encounter a fellow of crude appearance and rough manners who claimed to be acquainted with the river queen—in her mortal identity. He agreed to pass along a message to her and vanished himself soon after. The river queen reappeared the next day but whether this was a result of her victim’s message is inconclusive. This exception to the normal behavior of a river queen remains suspect, but, if it is true, it could suggest that some river queens are served by human or human-seeming servants much in the way that some wampyr are.)

Unfortunately, there seems to be no known way to destroy a river queen. Some old folks swear that salt will burn a river queen like lye and that the blessing of the river queen’s watery den by a faithful soul will cause it to flee the area, but, as far as the tales go, there is no known case of a river queen’s death being witnessed. In most tales, she simply disappears when sated and returns after a long period has elapsed to hunt again.

As one last point of interest, some of the oldest tales imply that the river queen’s unassuming human form is not her real one but merely a glamour that hides a more hideous appearance. Unfortunately, those tales imply rather than describe this horrid guise, giving no clues as to what a river queen might actually look like when its true shape is assumed.

I am most anxious to hear your thoughts, Grodari. I have posted this missive through the local lord of Aldwater, the master of this valley hamlet where the lad’s death occurred and I am currently residing. I hope to pry deeper into this matter and see what more there might be to learn. The identification and proper classification of such a creature would be quite a feather in my unadorned bonnet, old friend. If you can find nothing on this creature or one like it in the Grand Archive of Tvar v Tvarax, it confirms my thought that this could be an unclassified entity. Send word to the lord of Aldwater whatever your results might be.