The Ashgate Academy

I’ve been a vocal advocate for the “shared world” experience in role-playing games. Although the referee is responsible for the majority of the heavy lifting when it comes to detailing the campaign world, I don’t believe he or she should be the only one carrying the load. As a game master, I encourage player creativity to help fill in the unpainted corners of the world we’re all exploring and experiencing together. It not only jump-starts my own creative process, but allows for a greater investment in the setting on the part of the players.

The following is a result of that refereeing style. In my Kingmaker Pathfinder game, the party’s wizard often refers back to his time at the magic university he studied at prior to his adventures in the Stolen Lands. Player Rich has elaborated a wonderful backstory about how his wizard paid his way through college as a bootlegger brewer and regularly provides bits of information and lore with the preface “When I was studying magic in Strormfast…” I, for one, believe such creativity should be rewarded, and, inspired by Rich’s anecdotes, have sketched out a brief description of the hitherto unnamed university his wizard attended. Rich’s wizard is of the evoker school and, based upon his usual method of prying information from prisoners, I thought the benefit provided for studying evocation at the Ashgate Academy is fitting.

The Ashgate Academy can easily be dropped into any 3.5 or Pathfinder campaign with a name change or two. Older editions of the game can utilize the Academy with a little mechanical tweaking.

Ashgate Academy 

Founded in 1499 G.C.R., the Ashgate Academy is one of the few renowned and respected schools of the magical arts in the harsh northern kingdoms. Situated in Strormfast, the college earned its name from the site of its construction. The Academy stands at the base of Pyre Cliff, the traditional site of cremation for the city’s dead. Following the incineration of the deceased’s mortal remains, the funeral procession bearing the ashes pass through a wrought-iron gate erected at the base of the cliff. The Academy’s main building faces this “Ashgate,” thereby earning its designation. The Academy’s sigil is a crimson flame inside the archway of an argent gate on a field of deep azure.

The Ashgate Academy is best known for producing exceptional practitioners in the schools of enchantment, evocation, and necromancy. Instructed by masters of these magical arts, the graduates of these three schools enjoy a minor benefit from their education. These benefits manifest as follows: 

Graduates of Ashgate Academy’s enchantment college are well-schooled in the identification and classification of magical auras. Enchanters of the Ashgate Academy gain a +1 circumstance bonus on Spellcraft checks made to determine the school of magic involved in a magical aura or to identify the properties of a magical item when using the detect magic spell. 

Graduates of Ashgate Academy’s evocation college are famed as battle wizards and feared for their ability to rain destruction down upon enemies. Evokers of the Ashgate Academy receive Intimidate as a class skill. 

Graduates of Ashgate Academy’s necromancy college receive intense training in the funeral practices and beliefs of many diverse cultures. Necromancers of the Ashgate Academy receive a +1 circumstance bonus on Knowledge (religion) skill checks regarding funeral rites, afterlife symbolism, and the identification of deities possessing the Death domain.

In Order to Discover New Places, You Must First Throw Out the Old Maps

My Labyrinth Lord campaign recently experienced a complete party wipe, which can happen if you decide to let events unfurl naturally rather than guided by a firm yet biased hand. I look upon it with mixed emotions. It puts a damper on campaign momentum, but also allows me to introduce a few changes, ones I was lamenting over in my yearly review not so long ago.

In retrospect, I realize that I made an error in introducing material from the Advanced Edition Companion. Not because the supplement is flawed, but because it essentially undermined my whole purpose for going back to the roots of the hobby for this campaign. The campaign began to resemble AD&D in rules and style, and if that was the case, why wasn’t I just playing AD&D? It was time to chuck all the extraneous material and go back to basics and cultivate anew.

One of my primary goals in keeping to the basics and building from there was that I was hoping to create a game that was uniquely my own and not just another standard D&D world. This has been a mental hobgoblin of mine for quite awhile now, one which gets aggravated every time someone decides to expand the types of playable classes and wanders into the same old paladin, ranger, bard, druid, etc. territory. Having seen some of that appear in my own world, I had had enough and was seriously looking to break out of these same old variations on a theme.

It was a route I had taken before with both my Mule and Octopus class—solid, yet unorthodox player classes that explored what you can do with a class-based fantasy RPG—and one I plan to continue following. So, instead of adhering to the classic fantasy archetypes, I’ve become more inspired by other driving forces: “Is it something I’d like to play?” and “Is it something different?” The answers to these questions so far are indeed inspired.

As an example of where my mind had been wandering, an instance I’m most proud of, I’d like to present you with my latest class: the ghost. That is not a metaphorical name; it is a dead adventurer who continues to practice his former profession, unwilling to let a little thing like kicking the breathing habit slow him down.

I’m continuing to tinker with a trader class, one that relies more on role-playing than combat and avoids the granting of magical powers, which is a route I’ve seen before, but never quite understood. There are a few other classes (or races, rather) in the stew pot and I’ll either debut them here or submit them for publication as they come to completion.

The ghost may not be for everyone, and it is certainly not for all campaign worlds. My vision of what D&D continues to change, even more so after a year-plus of old school playing. It is unlikely that I’ll ever return to what I once considered its default settings, and I’m looking forward to what this new territory contains.

Download the ghost class here.

Cauldron Spirits

Some magic-users eschew the traditional familiars and homunculi for another form of servant: the cauldron spirit. These beings are traditionally recruited from the ranks of the recently-deceased and bound within the mage’s primary cauldron, crucible, forge, or alembic. A cauldron spirit is part-magical item, part-living creature, and can only be created by magic-users or elves of name level or higher.

The creation of a cauldron spirit begins with the mage making contact with a dead soul. Usually this is accomplished with the assistance of the clerical spell, speak with dead, but negotiations with cognitive ghosts is another possibility. The soul to be used in the creation of a cauldron spirit must be willing to serve the mage, and will likely barter for a limited duration of service or some reward that might be of use to the spirit (assistance to living relatives, providing resurrection for the spirit after service, destruction of a hated enemy, etc.). Truly desperate or evil magic-users have employed trap the soul to gain the spirit they need.

Once an arrangement with the spirit has been made, the magic-user performs a ceremony to bind the spirit with its focus object. This rite takes 1d4 hours to complete and costs 5,000 gp in materials. Any interruption before the ceremony’s completion negates both the rite and the components involved, requiring the magic-user to start from scratch.

Each cauldron spirit has a loyalty score as determined by the spell-caster’s Charisma. This score can rise or fall depending on how the magic-user treats his spirit or abides by the agreement struck with the ghost prior to its employment. Any command the magic-user gives the spirit which goes against its nature requires a successful loyalty check for the spirit to comply and assist its master. A cauldron spirit who refuses to comply with its master’s command may be forced to follow directions. In order to compel the spirit to abide by its master’s orders, the magic-user must spend two complete rounds forcing its will upon the spirit. The cauldron spirit must then make a save vs. spells or concede to the spell-caster’s wishes. Each time a magic-user successfully compels the spirit to obey reduces the ghost’s loyalty score by one point.

The physical destruction of a cauldron spirit’s focus item or a successful dispel magic cast against the same releases the spirit from its bonds and negates the item’s ability to house another such ghost. For this reason, most magic-users keep their cauldron spirits safe at home. The creator of a cauldron spirit can free its ghost at any time by conducting an hour-long rite that employs 500 gp worth of materials.

The benefits of having a cauldron spirit are threefold. Firstly, all spell-casting times (if used) are reduced by half. Secondly, the cost of creating magic items and researching spells are reduced by 25% as is the time required to create them. Thirdly, a cauldron spirit can “store” spells as if it were a magic-user equal to half its master’s level rounded down. These spells are typically utilitarian (detect magic, read magic, dispel magic, etc.), but some spellcasters trust their cauldron spirits enough to allow them to hold offensive magics in case their laboratories should come under attack. These spells are cast as if by the magic-user, himself. There are no innate restrictions keeping a cauldron spirit from turning its stored magic upon its master, however, and magic-users are advised to keep this in mind before gifting their magical servants with powerful, destructive spells.

"Elves" in the Watchfires & Thrones Campaign

So far my attempt to keep Watchfires & Thrones firmly rooted in its pulp sword & sorcery roots has been successful. I'm very pleased with my decision to limit the available classess to fighter, cleric, magic-user, dwarf, and "elf", as it has resulted in a largely human party of adventurers. We've had one dwarf and three "elves" (only one of the four demihumans still lives).

I've placed "elf" in quotes because nobody has actually played a true elf of Tolkien heritage. Instead, they've been playing Old Bloods, who are a race of beings loosely based on Moorcock's Melniboneans with veneer of Howardian slapped on for highlights. It's taken me a while to summarize the class, but I've finally done so. That summary appears below. Astute readers can play "Guess where Mike stole this bit from?" as they peruse the piece.

Although dwarves haven't been as popular, I think I'm going to give them a similar treatment in order to bring them closer to the same "human but not human" status the Arane Dhyn have.

The Arane Dhyn (The Old Blood)

For ten thousand years, the Arane Dhyn, that ancient race of men who are not men, ruled the great island nation of Bal-Sagoth, which lay at the center of the Weary Sea. In this land of white walled cities and sapphire towers arose potent sorceries and unimaginable sciences, each more impressive than the last. Compared to the wonders of Bal-Sagoth, the advances of true men were naught but the inelegant drawings of dimwitted children in the mud.

Over time, the haughtiness and pride of the Arane Dhyn grew along with their accomplishments and they began to see themselves as superior to the young nations of men, whom they deemed lesser beings. The Arane Dhyn, with their strange magics and high science, waged war upon the nations that abutted the Weary Sea. Most succumbed to the legions of Bal-Sagoth and became vassal states, owing fealty to the Supernal Empire and its Imperatrix. Each spring, the great moon galleys of the Arane Dhyn would embark to collect tribute from the lands of men, taking coin, trade goods, and slaves, as well as certain individuals who proved themselves worthy of learning at the feet of the great Arane Dhyn scholars and sorcerers, back to Bal-Sagoth.

For ten millennia, the Arane Dhyn subjugated the nations of men and grew debauched on their island of white-walled cities and sapphire towers. Then, without warning, the Arane Dhyn faced an opponent whose sorceries and science outstripped their own.

This threat came not from the sea that surrounded the Arane Dhyn’s homeland, but from the night sky above. Strange stars fell from the heavens, bringing with them the creatures known only as the Silent Daemons. With unknowable purpose, the Silent Daemons waged war upon Bal-Sagoth, toppling its sapphire towers and razing its alabaster walls. The land itself was torn asunder and the sea rushed in to fill these chasms.

The end of Bal-Sagoth came in fire, but whose hand lit the flames is unknown. Some tales say that the Silent Daemons unleashed horrific magics against the island nation. Conflicting stories claim that it was the strange sciences of the Arane Dhyn which caused the conflagration. In either case, the inferno known as the Flame Deluge shattered the great island nation of Bal-Sagoth, sinking it beneath the green waves of the Weary Sea. All that remained behind were the mangled scraps of silver filigree from brooch or breastplates that lay upon the ocean sands or the tatters of checkered silk which floated on the waves.

Some of the Arane Dhyn survived the cataclysm, fleeing their sinking land on moon galleys or taking flight on magical wings. But those survivors were few and they found no refuge was to be had in the former vassal states of Men. With their civilization in ruins and their former servants now free and bearing great grudges, the Arane Dhyn scattered, seeking sanctuary in whatever isolated places they could. In dense jungles, atop forbidding mountains, and in harsh deserts, the Arane Dhyn built colonies and citadels where they could dream of their former glory, undisturbed.

Two thousand years have passed since Bal-Sagoth sank and the Supernal Empire was cast in ruin. Most of the Arane Dhyn remain sequestered in their hidden sanctuaries, but a few seek to recapture the glory of their race once again. Although still shunned by men and considered a cursed breed, this vainglorious minority takes up sword and spells in order to carve out a place in the world befitting their people’s former greatness.

Twinborn Souls

Although the Arane Dhyn appear indistinguishable from Men, they are a separate, alien race. No aspect sets them apart from men more than their dual souls.

Each Arane Dhyn possess two souls which are engaged in a constant struggle for dominance of their physical form. Each daybreak, when the Arane Dhyn rises from slumber, his physical form might be under the control of either one of these twin souls. Although these twin souls are seldom evenly matched, each ultimately gains the upper hand in the struggle from time to time, eclipsing the skills of the other and causing various subtle (and not-so-subtle) changes to manifest. Most Arane Dhyn spend their entire lives attempting to unify their warring spirits into a single whole. This state is called Caat, and, while not an impossible goal, it is uncommon to encounter an Old Blood who was successfully reached spiritual equilibrium. Instead, most Arane Dhyn rely on meditation, sorcery, drugs, or other means to keep their internal struggle in a state they can cope with.

In game terms, this means is that each Old Blood character has essentially two classes whose abilities and progression are kept track of separately. An Old Blood PC is both a fighter and magic-user, but never at the same time. He has two character sheets: one for each of these classes.

The ability scores are the same for each class but hit points fluctuate depending on whether the Old Blood is currently adventuring as a fighter or a magic-user, and it is the subtle physiological changes that occur when each soul is in control that causes the character’s ability to survive bodily harm to change. Likewise, his ability to use spells and his acumen in battle are also dependent on which soul is currently in command.

When his martial soul is in power, the Arane Dhyn is a fighter with all that class’ abilities, saving throws, and weapon proficiencies. They do not, however, gain the ability to “Chop When They Drop” that pure fighters do.

When their mystical soul is at the forefront, the Arane Dhyn functions as a magic-user and has all that class’ saving throws, “to hit” probabilities, and spell-casting ability. They may not wear armor and cast spells, and they are limited to only two weapon proficiencies, which must be chosen from the four they possess in their fighter guise.

Legend

It is said that the Arane Dhyn race is the product of their ancient deity, Gol-goroth. Eons ago, long before history was recorded or Men walked upon the earth, Gol-goroth created twin daughters, A-ala and Dyru Ro, to delight him and to take as brides when they came of age. In almost every way, these two girls were opposites. Dyru Ro was dark and beautiful, while A-ala was pale and of fierce visage. A-ala was blessed with the gift of sorcery and Dyru Ro was a warrioress without equal. Rivals from the very first, each constantly strove to outdo the other in the eyes of Gol-goroth.

It was A-ala who brought about the tumultuous inner struggle that afflicts all Arane Dhyn. Having observed her twin’s practice of eating the hearts of slain foes to absorb their strength and prowess, A-ala set a snare of magic for Dyru Ro, then lured her into its jaws. Once imprisoned, A-ala consumed the soul of her twin with the intent of both assuming her martial prowess and permanently removing her rival.

When Gol-goroth next called his brides-to-be into his presence, he found only one answered his summons. He questioned A-ala, inquiring where her sister might be found, a query to which A-ala denied having any knowledge. But the spirit of Dyru Ro was not so easily consumed and Gol-goroth saw its fire burning behind the eyes of A-ala. The sorceress could not hide her crime from her creator and Gol-goroth banished her from his presence, sending her to live in the harsh lands to the west.

There, amongst the low creatures that would eventually become Men, A-ala found refuge and ultimately a mate. When the first of her children were born, A-ala discovered that Gol-goroth had punished her offspring for her crime. Each was born with two warring souls: one of sorcery inherited from their mother, the other martial and bearing the traits of their aunt. The Arane Dhyn race has suffered for their founder’s crime ever since.

Racial Traits

Because of their twin souls, Old Blood characters are extremely resistant to both charm and sleep magics, and avoid succumbing to these enchantments 90% of the time. They possess a keen sense of sight that allows them to detect the flame auras given off by all living creatures up to 60’ away (as infravision) and can notice the slight imperfections that indicate concealed doorways, hidden niches, secret doors, and the like 2 times out of 6.

Physical Appearance

Although the physical appearance of the Arane Dhyn is just as varied as that of Men, there does exist two general types. These two broad physical stereotypes usually indicate which of the two conflicting souls is dominant most often in a Arane Dhyn, but this is not always the case.

The following two examples are taken from Earth literature as they coincidentally resemble the two most common physical appearances of those of the Old Blood race. The first is an example of one whose martial soul is more dominant; the second, one whose sorcerous souls is most active. (Thanks to my regular player, Jack, for reminding me of the Kull description.)

“He was built much like the Vikings, at once massive and lithe—tigerish. But his features were not as theirs, and his square-cut, lion-like mane of hair was as black as Bran’s own. Under heavy brows glittered eyes gray as steel and cold as ice. His bronzed face, strong and inscrutable, was clean-shaven, and the broad forehead betokened a high intelligence, just as the firm jaw and thin lips showed will-power and courage.”
-Kings of the Night by Robert E. Howard

“They were old eyes in a fine featured, youthful face…He nodded condescendingly to the other four and walked with lithe grace towards the fire… [He] was tall, broad-shouldered and slim-hipped. He wore his long hair bunched and pinned at the nape of his neck and…affected the dress of a southern barbarian…His bizarre dress was tasteless and gaudy, and did not match his sensitive face and long-fingered, almost delicate hands, yet he flaunted it since it emphasized the fact that he did not belong in any company—that he was an outsider and an outcast.”
- The Stealer of Souls by Michael Moorcock

Demonstration Model: The Mule

Thursday’s post attracted a lot of attention and I was gratified to see that I’m not the only soul attempting to come to terms with the prosaic and the bizarre in the campaign. Many of us apparently have a Tolkien on one shoulder and a Hargrave on the other, and we waffle back and forth between these imps’ whispers while trying to find the middle path.

As I mention previously, I’m uncertain if I’ll ever be completely comfortable giving in to the wahoo attitude, but that doesn’t prevent me from trying to escape the classes' rut. Even if none of them ever see the light of day in game play, they keep the mental waters roiling. Creativity, after all, is a pond that grows stagnant if you don’t throw in the occasional rock or two.

These various attempts have yielded strange fruit, as some of you commented on regarding my Octopus class. But that class, although serious, was intended for use in a “dreamlands” setting: a place where the logical and the outré are intertwined. In a standard campaign, however, I don’t have quite as free of a run to create. This if fine though. I’ve discovered that the limitations imposed by the average fantasy campaign can lead to much more interesting results.

One such result is my Mule class. While it’d be unlikely that anyone would spend a year or so of gaming to raise their humble beast of burden to the lofty ranks of 8th level, it might be the thing for a jaded role-player looking for a challenge. On the other hand, gamers are an interesting bunch and there’s possibly someone out there who’d love to level up the first mule of renown in their campaign world.

In either case, while I can’t claim the class is without a little humor, it was my intention to make it as serious and playable as any of the traditional class choices, thus chipping away at the shackles of class complacency. After all, what else fits in to a standard dungeon expedition better than the always-welcome pack mule?

Would I let someone run a mule in actual play? Without hesitation, if that’s what they wanted and were aware of the challenges such a class has to overcome. The stories, laughter, and fond memories that might result from a PC mule in the party would be worth the risk. And those things are the reasons we chose this pastime in the first place.

New B/X Class: Freebooter

The idea for a freebooter class came to me while I was writing Stonehell Dungeon Supplement One: The Brigand Caves. I wanted a highwayman-type class that was more Fafhrd than Gray Mouser, more Conan than Cugel. Although I solved my dilemma by updating the old bandit “monster type,” the idea of a tougher rogue remained. It’s bound to not be to everyone’s liking, but I’ll offer it up for possible inclusion in your own campaign. The experience point costs are closer to Moldvay/Cook than Labyrinth Lord. Those running Labyrinth Lord may wish to raise the cost of 2nd level by 100-250 experience points and recalculate the level costs from there.

Freebooter
Requirements: None
Prime Requisite: STR
Hit Dice: d6
Maximum Level: None
Attack as: Thief
Save as: Cleric

More rough and rowdy than their city-dwelling counterparts, freebooters are outlaws who ply their trade in the unsettled wilds. Preying on trade caravans, merchant ships, and innocent travelers alike, freebooters run the gamut from base villains to bandits with hearts of gold. Freebooters tend to be more hale and hearty than thieves due to their outdoor living, receiving slightly better hit dice and saving throws. Freebooters are also not restricted to leather armor and may wear up to chainmail and use shields without restriction. They may use any weapon in battle except for pole-arms.

Although not as adept as true thieves, freebooters do possess a handful of thief abilities. They may move silently, hide in shadows, climb sheer surfaces, and backstab as if a thief of equal level. They freely use the magic items they plunder and are able to utilize magical weapons and armor, rings and potions, miscellaneous magic, and protective scrolls. Unlike regular thieves, freebooters do no gain the ability to read languages and use magic scrolls at any level.

Reaching 9th level:Freebooters may not build castles and strongholds like other characters. However, upon reaching 9th level, a freebooter may assemble a band of outlaws. In order to do so, the freebooter must establish a base of operations (a cave hideout, a sailing ship, a desert oasis, etc.) Once established, he attracts 2-12 1st level freebooters who flock to character for a share of plunder. These thugs will be (mostly) loyal and will not be replaced if they should leave or die.

Table A: Freebooter Level Progression

Freebooter Level Progression
Level	Title	Experience	Hit Dice (d6)
1	Thug	0	1
2	Brute	1225	2
3	Outlaw	2500	3
4	Bandit	5000	4
5	Brigand	10,000	5
6	Scoundrel	21,000	6
7	Highwayman	42,000	7
8	Freebooter	94,000	8
9	Freebooter King (Queen)	188,000	9
10	10th level Freebooter King (Queen)	301,000	+2 hp only *
11	11th level Freebooter King (Queen)	414,000	+4 hp only *
12	12th level Freebooter King (Queen)	527,000	+6 hp only *
* Constitution bonus no longer applies. 113,000 experience points per level for each additional level beyond the 12th.

It’s a Mouse-Eat-Rat World

“I am reminded,” said the Mouser, “of what a witch told me about adepts. She said that, if an adept chances to die, his soul is reincarnated in a mouse. If, as a mouse, he managed to kill a rat, his soul passes over to a rat. As a rat, he must kill a cat; as a cat, a wolf; as a wolf, a panther; and, as a panther, a man. There he can recommence his adeptry. Of course, it seldom happens that anyone gets all the way through the sequence and in any case it takes a very long time. Trying to kill a rat is enough to satisfy a mouse with mousedom.”

- “Adept’s Gambit,” by Fritz Leiber

It’s throwaway bits of prose such as this that kick my creative gears into motion. In” Adept’s Gambit,” Leiber inserts this bit of fictional folklore to give the tale a “to be continued?” coda, but the Mouser and Fafhrd soon return to Nehwon, leaving this dangling thread unwoven. That doesn’t mean I have to.

I’ve already established a precedent for weirdness occurring after a wizard’s demise and, after reading this tale again, this paragraph begged to be stolen as a house rule to further elaborate on that topic. After all, what’s the sense of having magic in the game if you can't trick it out to make it as mysterious and unpredictable as possible? Leiber’s tales suggests a way to not only do so, but to also give the oh-so-fragile magic-user a slim chance of survival after death. Let’s drop it down the well and see if it makes a splash, shall we?

The Adept's Second Chance

Upon their death, a magic-user or elf has a cumulative 5% chance per level of experience of being spontaneously reincarnated as a house mouse (Mus musculus). The mouse-mage assumes his new rodent form 3d100’ away in a random direction from the location of his death. In this guise, the mage retains his personality and intellect, but otherwise has the attributes of a common mouse including strength, armor class, hit points, saving throws, attacks, and damage. He loses both the ability to cast spells and any spells memorized at the time of his death. He cannot speak or write.

Mouse (MV: 150’ (50’) burrow 6’ (2’), AC 7, HD 1 hit point, #AT 1, DG 1, Attacks as NM, SV NM)

If, in this guise, the mage manages to slay a rat (normal or giant), he assumes that form with all its normal attributes and abilities. Should the mage die while in mouse form, he is permanently slain and nothing short of a wish spell can return him to life. The mouse-mage must defeat his rat opponent in single combat, although non-physical assistance from another is allowed (a part member casting a hold spell on the rat, placing an animal growth spell on the mouse-mage, granting the mouse magical strength, etc.). No damage or physical harm can be done to the rat by a third party; doing so negates any chance of the mouse-mage advancing in incarnation from that particular opponent. A mouse-mage unable to ever slay a rat in single combat will live out his life as a mouse, perishing from natural causes in two to three years. At anytime during the mage’s quest for humanity, a wish spell (and only a wish spell) can return him to his normal form.

This same process is repeated for each animal along the path back to human form. As above, the mage must slay his opponent in single combat and, if successful, assumes that form with all its natural attributes and powers, but retaining his own personality and intelligence. If the mage manages to slay his way up the food chain (rat, cat, wolf, panther, then man), he returns to life in his own body with all the experience, attributes, and power he possessed at the time of his death. Material objects such as equipment, magical items, and spell books are not regained and he must replace these items normally. A magic-user or elf will only spontaneous reincarnate as a mouse once; subsequent deaths after regaining human form are permanent unless revived by standard clerical means.

He Wants to Hold Your Hand, Hand, Hand, Hand…

One of the many reasons that the concept of using a dreamlands-like setting for a D&D campaign is attractive to me is that it allows both the referee and the players complete freedom to indulge in flights of fancy not normally allowed in a “straight” D&D game. As much as D&D (and all role-playing games) is a “game of the imagination,” the need to acquiesce to certain logical constraints is ever-present. The only time we can usually get away with doing something completely off-the-wall is in a comedic or silly game, which are usually of short-term durations.

Dreams are free from such logical constraints. From what I’ve been reading, when we sleep, the parts of our brain that normally control logical and rational thought are effectively shut down, which is why it seems perfectly reasonable in a dream to be taking a trip to Antarctica with the Oakland Raiders on a bus driven by your fourth-grade teacher. I’m looking to explore some similar terrain with Insomnity.

In theory, I’m just as free to present the illogical as fact and not think twice about the whys and wherefores of it all. In practice, getting potential players to indulge in the same sense of disbelief without turning the game into a farce is one of the biggest hurdles this idea faces. I’m not certain what best way to avoid this might be, but I suspect loose limits as to what is too bizarre might be better than none at all. Playing the NPCs as everyday citizens, no matter how strange, is probably another good idea.

Even with using these thoughts as a flexible governor as to what I can get away with, the possibilities are still much more than in your average fantasy world. If you add “race as class” and the Crabaugh Method to the mix, there’s a lot of mileage to be gotten from a world of dreams.

The other night, with “Customized Classes” from the May 1986 issue of Dragon in hand and a thought I mentioned in a previous post in mind, I came up with the following new class. This is the rough version, provided just to give you an idea of where my flights of fancy have been taking me as of late.

Octopus

Hit Dice: 1d6
Requirements: DEX 9
Combat Progression: as Cleric
Save As: Cleric
Level Limit: 11th
Weapons allowed: Any
Armor allowed: Leather and shield

You are an octopus, but whether you’ve always been one or this is a recent development is incidental. The fact that you are of unusual size for an octopus (your head rises 4’ off of the ground and your tentacles, when splayed out, stretch to 10’ in diameter) and that you seem well-adapted to life outside of the ocean also fails to keep you up at night. Although you are perfectly at home in the water, you don’t require regular immersion to stay alive – but there is something to be said for a nice cool bath or the occaisonal spritz on a hot day.

Special Abilities

Multiple Attacks – Starting at 1st level, an octopus is allowed two attacks per round. These attacks must be of the same type (melee or missile) and be directed at a single target. If an octopus’ target is slain and it has one or more attacks remaining in that round, he may switch to the next available target and continue combat with them without penalty. At 5th level, an octopus gains a 3rd attack each round, and at 9th level, he may strike up to four times per combat round.

Camouflage – An octopus can naturally alter its coloration to blend in with its surrounding environment. When using the ability outdoors or in other natural surrounds, the octopus is 90% likely to be overlooked by observers. Underground or in artificially constructed surrounding, this ability is not as effective and the octopus is only unseen one-third (2 in 6 chance) of the time.

Climb Walls – Thanks to the suction pads that cover its tentacles, an octopus can Climb Walls as if it were a Thief of equal level.

Aquatic Affinity – Octopi have the ability to breathe underwater and can swim at a rate of 90’ (30’).

Restrictions

Mollusk – Although land-dwelling octopi are able to maintain more rigidity than their aquatic brethren, they lack an internal skeleton. Thus, octopi are limited to wearing specially-fitted leather armor at best, although they may employ shields. Octopi may also only carry half the normal weight capacity allowed for other races.

Magical Item Use – Octopi cannot use wearable magical items intended for humanoid-shaped races. This includes rings, bracers, gauntlets, girdles, boots, and cloaks. Helms and eyes are allowed, however. An octopus can use variant forms of these magical devices if they were crafted specifically for its species.

Experience Point Cost
1st Level: 0-1,899
2nd Level: 1,900-3,799
3rd Level: 3,800-7,599
4th Level: 7,600-15,199
5th Level: 15,200-33,299
6th Level: 33,300-66,599
7th Level: 66,600-129,999
8th Level: 130,000-259,999
9th Level: 260,000-427,499
10th Level: 427,500-569,999
11th Level: 570,000+

They Burn Wizards, Don’t They?

A little time ago, I was reading the Necronomicon (not the actual Necronomicon mind you, just the Chaosium anthology of the same name) when I ran across this quote:

“Wisely did Ibn Schacabo say, that happy is the tomb where no wizard hath lain, and happy the town at night whose wizards are all ashes.” – The Necronomicon (Olaus Wormius translation), Fragment 8, Verse 3.

It is little things like this that goads my mind into packing its bags for another trip out to Bat Country. Just give me a little hint – a mere taste – of some seriously macabre possibilities and I’m hooked. The less I have to work with at the beginning, the better.

With this passage percolating away in my head, I began casting my thoughts back to one of the old standards of the sword and sorcery genre: the idea that wizards have, at best, a tentative control over the power they claim to command. The variations on this tune are numerous. Sometimes a wizard has engaged in demonic pacts to attain power normally beyond the reach of humanity. Other times, a wizard’s magic threatens to escape his control when he lets his attentions lapse in the slightest. Many of swords & sorcery tale has ended with a fiery explosion, a collapsing tower, or some other explosive event that coincides with the death of an evil magus.

Fertile ground from which to harvest, no? Let’s see what we can do with this idea.

Let’s start with the premise that magic-users do tap into powerful magical forces above and beyond the regular spells they cast on a daily basis. Perhaps this is a learned talent or maybe it’s a genetic quirk. In either case, it is this connection with the supernatural that allows them to cast their spells and do their assorted voodoo. In game terms, this is connection has no affect on game mechanics or regular play. Magic-users are clinging to their d4 Hit Die hard enough without gimping them some more. However, what if we brought this premise into action at a time when it would have little or no effect on the magic-user. Say, after his death? As the Necronomicon quote above seems to indicate, wizards can be most troublesome after they’ve sauntered off the mortal coil.

When a Magic-user (or Elf) dies, there is a chance that his now-uncontrolled attachment to the supernatural forces of the multiverse goes a little off-kilter, producing some unforeseen occurrence or event. Occasionally, this may even result in deadly ramifications to those around him. Not wanting to have every Magic-user in the game going off like a roman candle once he hits zero hit points, we’ll set this possibility at a reasonably low chance of occurring to start.

With this in mind, I’ve decided that for every level of experience the Magic-user or Elf possesses, there’s a 3% chance of some spectacular event to occur upon his death. With a nod to the old cliché that evil wizards tend to have more spectacular deaths, let’s modify this chance for Chaotic Magic-users and elves to 5% per level. Therefore, a Neutral 6th level Elf has an 18% chance of going out with a memorable effect and a Chaotic Magic-user of the same level would pop off spectacularly 30% of the time. If a percentile roll made upon the Magic-user’s death indicates a supernatural event, the referee then rolls on the table below:

The “When Dead Wizards Go Bad” Table

1 – Mage’s body turns to ash. A ghostly wind appears from nowhere and scatters the mage’s body to the winds. No resurrection is possible.

2 – As above but the mage’s body becomes 1d100+100 butterflies, wasps, ants, worms, maggots, or some other small insect or vermin. If these creatures are all somehow collected, the mage can be raised from the dead. However, these vermin will all die in 1d3 days, after which resurrection becomes impossible.

3 – The Lawful Church was right about the origins of magic. Knowingly or unknowingly, the mage made a pact with infernal forces in order to wield spells. A random demon or devil appears to collect his soul. At the referee’s discretion, this infernal being may collect his payment and leave, attempt to slay anyone else on the scene or offer nearby creatures a deal for their own souls. The dead mage’s companions may attempt to bargain with this being on the magic-user’s behalf. Chess, anyone?

4 – The mage’s remaining spells explode in a conflagration of eldritch energy. Treat as if a fireball spell has detonated with the mage at the center. The damage caused by this spell is in dice equal to the number of spells the mage had remaining in his memory. Particularly fiendish referees may instead rule that the blast does damage equal to the total number of spell levels in the dead magic-user’s memory.

5 – A curse affects the area in which the mage died. The exact effects of this curse are left to the referee. The area affected by this death curse is in proportion to the magic-user’s experience level. A low level mage’s death may curse a room or corridor. A name level mage’s death might curse an entire dungeon or village. The death of an arch-mage might lay a curse upon an entire kingdom.

6 – On the third night following the magic-user’s death, his body – if not destroyed – rises as a wight which seeks revenge (justified or not) on his friends and loved ones.

7 – As above, but the magic-user rises as a spectre.

8 – The mage’s body and all things (living or non-living) within 10’ of it become petrified. Sentient creatures may save to avoid this effect.

9 – The magic-user’s body dissolves into a puddle of water, phlegm, bile, venom, blood, or some other liquid. If the entire volume of liquid (50 liters) is collected, the mage may be raised.

10 – The mage’s death is accompanied by a foreboding omen. The moon turns to blood, an unforeseen solar eclipse occurs, cows give sour milk, chickens lay red eggs, a baby is born with two heads, a comet appears in the sky, etc. Whether these omens herald some misfortune to come is left the referee.

You can of course add to this list your own fiendish ideas. The possibilities are endless.

So the next time you stick a sword through some skinny guy or gal in robes, you’d better not let your guard down. Something interesting might just be about to occur.

Quick and Dirty Snowflakes

I’m not a completely heartless curmudgeon. Despite having little personal use for concrete skill systems, non-weapon proficiencies, extensive histories, feats, powers, or anything else that causes character generation to go past the fifteen minute mark, I’m aware that there are others who feel differently. Some folks just like having mechanics by which to make their characters unique.

In order to acquiesce to those individuals’ desires, I resorted to the old D&D standby of the random table to address such issues without overwhelming the simple rule set I have in mind. As with the skill-less skill system, nothing here is particularly groundbreaking or unique. Such tables have a long history in role-playing games and this is just another one for that pile. My goal here, as with the skill-less skill system, was to use the mechanics already in play rather than adding new ones. Thus, most of the quirks below either have no mechanical effect or simply modify those already in the game.

At character creation, just before buying equipment, everyone who wishes to can toss a pair of percentiles to determine whether or not they have some special quirk or quality. Everyone uses the same table and the dice roll is unmodified. Everyone has the same chances of having something “special” to bring to the table for the first time. This can also help round out a character’s back story if he wants one and is currently stuck for ideas. The simple nature of the table also means that it can add a little spice to that replacement character you’re forced to roll up after losing yet another character to the dungeon without stretching character creation into an hour long process and thereby get you back in the game.

D% Roll	Character Quirk or Quality
01-05	Eye for Horseflesh
06-07	Eye for Irregularity
08-09	Free Retainer
10-12	Hard to Kill
13-14	Heirloom
15-20	I Know Something
21-23	Inspires Loyalty
24-26	Keen-eared
27-28	Natural Climber
29-32	Natural Linguist
33-35	Oh Captain, my Captain
36-38	Orienteering
39-42	Outdoorsman
42-45	Owed a Favor
46-47	Resistance to Venoms
48-49	Situational Awareness
50-52	Swift Healing
53-56	Swims like a Fish
57-58	Weapon Adept
59-61	Well Read/Mind for Miscellany
62-67	Windfall
68-90	No Special Quality
91-00	Roll Twice (Ignoring This Result Hereafter) or Choose One

Eye for Horseflesh: Character always purchases the best mounts & pack animals from the available stock. Horses bought by this character never possess negative traits and pack animals have a +10% bonus to their carrying capacities.

Eye for Irregularity: The character receives a +1 bonus to notice secret doors or traps. This benefit is in addition to whatever racial bonuses the character might already receive. Thus a dwarf with this quirk would notice traps on a 3 in 6 and an elf would notice secret doors on a 3 in 6.

Free Retainer: Character begins play with a (mostly) loyal retainer.

Hard to Kill: Character is treated as being two levels higher when reduced to less than zero hit points (I’m using Gary’s house rule that characters are dead when they reach negative hit points equal to their level or -10, whichever is lower).

Heirloom: The character begins play with a small trinket of some special worth. Roll on the table below to determine what item the character begins play with.

D6 Roll	Heirloom
1	Potion of healing
2	An arrow or bolt +1
3	Treasure Map (leads to cache of randomly determined treasure)
4	Silver dagger
5	Magic scroll (1 appropriate spell for clerics & magic users; protection scroll for other classes)
6	Silver holy symbol

I Know Something: The character begins play with the knowledge of one absolutely true rumor, legend, or other bit of information about a local adventuring site. This piece of information should be determined by the referee and, while the information is true, it may lack certain other facts that obfuscate the actual legend in some manner.

Inspires Loyalty: Character possesses a certain je ne sais quoi that makes his followers and employees more prone to follow his commands. All the character’s followers, henchmen, and hirelings gain a +1 bonus to their morale. This bonus is in addition to any benefits provided by a high Charisma and can counteract the detrimental effects of a low Charisma score.

Keen-eared: Gains a +1 bonus to Hear Noise

Natural Climber: Has the ability to climb walls as a 1^st level thief. This ability never improves. If the character is a thief, he gains a one-time +5% bonus to climb walls.

Natural Linguist: The character begins play with one additional language known.

Oh Captain, my Captain: The character has some prior experience in managing large vehicles of one particular type based on the circumstances of his or her upbringing, allowing him to serve in such a capacity without the need to hire professional help. Examples of such vehicles include ships, wagons, and trade caravans.

Orienteering: The character has a keen sense of direction when traveling outdoors. As a result, the chances of the character and his party becoming lost while moving overland is reduced by -10%. If more than one character in the party has this quirk, the benefits are cumulative, but may never reduce the chance of becoming lost to less than 1%.

Outdoorsman – +1 bonus to outdoorsman checks (foraging, hunting, tracking, etc.).

Owed a Favor: Somebody, somewhere, owes the character for some boon or service he or she provided in the past. At the start of the game, this boon should be left undefined as to what was done and who benefited from the character’s assistance. At any time during the character’s career, he or she may decide to call in that favor with the referee’s permission.

Resistance to Venoms: Due to a hearty Constitution or previous exposure to toxins, the character receives a +1 bonus on all saving throws vs. poison.

Situational Awareness: Character is only surprised on a 1 in 6 under most normal conditions. If alone or using the optional Individual Initiative rule, the character gains a +1 bonus to all initiative rolls.

Swift Healing: The character gains a +1 bonus on all rolls to determine how many hit points are recovered from natural – and natural only – healing (regaining 1d3+1 hp for each full day of rest). As always, any interruption of this full day of rest results in no hit points being recovered.

Swims like a Fish: Character is at home in the water. The character may swim while wearing leather armor without the need for a Constitution check each round. Swims at ¾ normal movement rate.

Weapon Adept: Character gains a +1 bonus on either to hit rolls or damage rolls (determined randomly) with one specific type of weapon (daggers, long swords, spears, short bows, etc.).

Well Read/Mind for Miscellany: Character has a 3% chance per level of experience of knowing some minor fact or legend about a person, place or thing he/she has never personally seen.

Windfall: Character begins play with x2 normal starting money.

The Final Word on Simple

In the Good Old Days, the days of the original three books of the Dungeons & Dragons game, the number of variants on the rules was roughly equal to X,where X was the number of players in the game.

Alas, we all get older and more conservative, and with the publication of the more detailed, more structured D&D Basic Set, variant rules tended to become one with
history.

There’s no reason why that has to be so. The D&D game, by virtue of its inherent simplicity, is an excellent platform for experimental rules…

- Paul Montgomery Crabaugh, author of “Customized Classes” from Dragon #109

The above quote sums up one of the reasons that people still find the earlier versions of this game so damn attractive, especially in light of the rule bloat that accompanied 3.5. While that edition did a lot to provide rules to solve just about any situation, it came at a cost of brevity and the room to tinker. With a structure as rigid as the d20 System, alterations to one part of it often causes stress fractures throughout the rest of the system.

One of the things that I’ve learned over the last year is that, when it comes to house rules and home-brewing, it’s often better to strip things down to the skeleton and begin regrowing bits from there, rather than attempting to graft parts directing onto the thick carcass of the established rules. For years, I’d been slowly building my own D&D Rule Golem in my mental lab. The result was functional, but extremely clunky and subject to complete collapse if too much strain was applied. If I’ve learned anything from the old-school movement, it’s that you need to start with the basics and work up from there if you want to home-brew.

This lesson has been put to good use over the past few months. I’ve got a lot less sacred cows than I once had, and my willingness to cull the herd has opened me to new ways of thinking about things. Most recently, it’s allowed me to overcome my final personal hobgoblin of the mind that had held me back from complete acceptance of the earliest editions of the game: race as class.

As I discussed last week, the idea of race as class had been a sticking point for me ever since I was first exposed to AD&D. As it turns out, it wasn’t so much the idea of race being a class; it was the limitations that accompanied its treatment in that manner. Basically, every dwarf or halfling being a fighter (or fighting man if you go back far enough) and every elf being a fighter/magic user was just too narrow for my own personal taste. I’m past that now, simply because I’ve found a way that allows for more choices in this matter, while still remaining true to the original intent of the game.

After much tinkering and experimentation, I’ve discovered that the method first laid out in “Customized Class” – which I’ll refer to as the Crabaugh Method after its author – provides an easy solution to this problem with a few minor alterations. Quite elegantly, the Crabaugh Method allows for the creation of racial variants to the standard human classes without the need to divorce race from class, which was the solution that the Supplements and AD&D presented. Furthermore, this method also provides a consistent system for home-brewing new classes. Since new character classes, sometimes in the gonzo, wahoo, crazy-go-bananas vein, were a staple of the original game, I find that the Crabaugh Method is very much in the spirit of the wild and woolly days. Armed with this method as a guideline, I could easily take on the challenge of letting a player run whatever he or she felt like throwing at the dungeon.

One of my recent decisions in regards to design and game prep has been to do only as much work as is necessary to get the game off the ground and running. To depend more on decisions made at the table, rather than at the desk, and let the game grow from there. Despite this, I needed to run my modified Crabaugh Method through its paces a bit to see if the alterations I made to it would stand up to the strain. In the end, I generated a few racial variants and two new classes suitable for the earlier additions of the game. While I used Labyrinth Lord as my reference rules during this process, those rules, by their retro-clone nature, provide easy inclusion into the Holmes/Moldvay & Cook/Mentzer rules, as well as OD&D with little or no modification.

I’ve collected those classes under one title, New Classes and Racial Variants for Basic Dungeons & Dragons and made them available to you fine folks. In addition, you’ll find the modified tables to the Crabaugh Method included therein, but for legal reasons I’ve left out a crucial table and detailed instructions. You’ll have to own a copy of Dragon #109 if you want to test drive the process or check my math.

Here’s a summary, along with a few notes, of the classes contained therein:

Barbarian: A new class for humans, just because you know someone’s going to want to play one sooner or later. The Barbarian benefits from a larger Hit Die, but suffers restrictions on usable armor and magical items.

Dwarf Cleric: Appeared last week as the Deeppriest, but I decided to strip the fancy name as it begins to smack to much of the prestige class syndrome I so dislike. KISS and call it what it is.

Elf Cleric: Elves get a lot of treatment as you’ll see. This is largely due to the fact that so many people seem to love to play them; they’ve traditionally had the most access to various classes, and were the first multi-class. I wasn’t going to bother with Elf Clerics at all until it came up in the comments about my race as class mental block.

Elf Druid: Originally I was going to create two types of Elf Clerics: one with the ability to turn undead and one without, as I thought that an Elf Cleric without that ability fit in quite nicely with the whole “connected to nature” elf thing. But ultimately, I decided to make that type of cleric into more of a nature priest. Although the name is the same, and there certain similarities, people expecting a class more in line with the Druid of AD&D will be disappointed.

Elf Fighter: I wanted to see how the Crabaugh Method would work when I stripped the multi-classed Elf down to but a single class. Not too bad as it turns out.

Elf Jack-Of-All-Trades: While I intended to stay away from multi-class characters during testing, seeing as they are outside of the scope of what I wanted to do with the system, I needed something to stress the system to see how it would handle really outlandish class ideas. What better way to do that than recreate the fighter/magic-user/thief? While I’d still never play this, and certainly discourage someone running one in my game, the Crabaugh Method managed to produce a pretty balanced result.

Elf Wizard: Like the Elf Fighter, but stripped of the combat benefits of playing a regular Elf.

Halfling Thief: What else would I chose for a Halfling?

Hireling: This is strictly an NPC class. Inspired by one of the sample customized class in the original article, it makes a nice catch-all class for any semi-skilled assistant a dungeon-delving party might hire. A brave farm boy or local militia man could easily be run as this class. The Hireling has low experience point costs for progression, but a 8th level cap and the fact that most NPC don’t get full shares of experience make this a NPC class that won’t outshine his employers.

Grab the download for yourself here.