I’ve been tinkering around with my idea for a Gamma World hex crawl game again in an attempt to downshift my brain away from the dungeon. Gamma World is a nice place to return to when the fantasy well starts to run dry and I need to relax and go a little “crazy go bananas” to compensate. I’m fairly certain that nothing will ever come of this setting but that doesn’t keep me from retreating there when I’m in need of sanctuary.
I’m still trying to hash out what the overall atmosphere of the hex crawl would be. Gamma World tends to have a gonzo reputation – one that’s hard to deny – but, with the right direction, it could be a gritty, merciless world just as easily. The more that I think about it, the more I realize that I’m biased toward the traditional gonzo method of play, largely due to the fact that I first was exposed to Gamma World in 1981.
One of the strengths of Gamma World is that it makes no apologies for being a product of its time period. I’m not speaking merely about the fact that it was written during a time when the long shadow of the Bomb still fell across the world. I’m instead referring to Gamma World’s tendency to embrace anachronisms as part of the overall game setting. Seeing how Gamma World was set almost 500 years in the future from the time it first appeared, it would have been all too easy to make that post-apocalyptic world totally alien from the time of its birth; to fill it completely with futuristic devices and make it unrecognizable to the players. Rather than go that path, Jim Ward and Gary Jaquet kept just enough of the then modern world to serve as touchstones for the players to identify with. A look at the Treasure List is the strongest indicator of this design plan. There we find such everyday devices as a manual typewriter, an office copying machine, a ballpoint pen, and a pencil sharpener. Even in 1978, it wouldn’t be difficult to guess that the world might see some improvement over these technologies in 500 years.
Honestly, I enjoy the fact that Gamma World is littered with anachronisms. It’s a facet of the game that’s just as important to the overall game world as death machines, life leech, and Mark V blasters. One of the reasons that the d20 version of Gamma World didn’t resonate as strongly with me was because there was an attempt to update the pre-apocalyptic world to conform to our advances in technology. This is a personal bias, one born from my brain firmly entrenching Gamma World in the late 1970s and early 80s, but I’m certain I’m not the only one with the mindset.
If I was to run Gamma World now, I would make an attempt to firmly ground the game in the time of its origin and to present an even greater retro-future world to explore. Some of the technologies found by the characters would be out of date even for the players, but indicative of the time period that spawned the game. Perhaps in some alternate history timeline, the 8-track tape remained the apex of music technology, synthetic materials became the preferred medium for manufactured clothing (making yexils everywhere happy), and Betamax proved to be the greatest advancement in audio/video recording. There’s a certain appeal to the mental image of a band of mutants roaming the wasteland in a custom ’77 Chevy G-Series (complete with airbrushed painting of a topless Valkyrie riding a saber-toothed bear on the side) while listening to Earth, Wind & Fire on 8-track that’s hard to deny.
And masers. One can’t forget masers…
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Monday, April 27, 2009
Tales from the Front
One of the biggest differences that I've noted about writing game material versus general blog writing is that getting feedback on the gaming material is often hit or miss when compared to the posts on this blog. Writing a dungeon and making it available to the public is very similiar to giving birth to a child, then immediately putting that baby up for adoption. You hope they end up in a good home but you don't have any say in the matter once the child's out of your hands.
Because of that, it's always nice to hear that somebody is taking good care of your kid and raising him right. Just recently, I've learned that two of my creations are off living a good life with new parents. The Fane of St. Toad is apparently in good hands over at The Omnipotent Eye and Stonehell is helping bring families closer together over at the Tales of the Rambling Bumblers. I think Stonehell officially has had more vistors to its halls that any other dungeon I've ever written. Considering that that was my hope when I first started making it available, I'm most certainly pleased at this state of affairs. Hopefully, once the compilation is complete, tourism will be at an all time high.
Because of that, it's always nice to hear that somebody is taking good care of your kid and raising him right. Just recently, I've learned that two of my creations are off living a good life with new parents. The Fane of St. Toad is apparently in good hands over at The Omnipotent Eye and Stonehell is helping bring families closer together over at the Tales of the Rambling Bumblers. I think Stonehell officially has had more vistors to its halls that any other dungeon I've ever written. Considering that that was my hope when I first started making it available, I'm most certainly pleased at this state of affairs. Hopefully, once the compilation is complete, tourism will be at an all time high.
Pardon the Interruption
As you no doubt noticed, today was the first time since I started writing the SoTPR that I missed an entry without prior notice of a delay or day off. For that, I apologize. With the coming of spring to the lower New York area, so has come the annual battle in which my immune system is pitted against the forces of contagion, and contagion seems to be winning. I can only take solace in the knowledge that, as far as I can ascertain, it’s not the strain of swine flu that has arrived on the shores of New York which I’m engaged in combat with. Today was spent catching up on some much needed rest, so the opportunity to remark upon my absence has only now presented itself.
Since I’m coherent enough to write a bit before I lapse into slumber yet again, I need to take to this opportunity to reveal some information of the “good news, bad news” variety. Following tradition, we will start with the bad news.
The bad news is that, until the end of May, there’s going to be a slow down on this electronic fish-wrapper. I’m not going completely dark, but the Monday, Wednesday, Friday schedule is most certainly going to be set aside for the next few weeks. There are a few reasons for this, some of which is the “good news,” but the primary one is that I’m feeling burned out about thinking of, writing about, and creating new material for the original role-playing game. Everybody needs some time off occasionally, and I’ve been running mostly without a hitch for nine months now – a time which has indeed gestated both some beautiful and horrific children of the mind. The time has come to take a step back and breathe some fresh air. I’ve even taken a sabbatical from my weekly gaming group to allow me to ponder other thoughts and dream new dreams about something other than dank dungeons for a little bit. Postings here for the next few weeks will still be role-playing related, but it’s time to explore new fields and focus less on game mechanics for a while. In addition, these posts will come when time and the creative process allows, rather than a predetermined schedule. Once we get past May, it is my hope to return to the M/W/F schedule with a refreshed mind ready for another foray back into the dungeon.
Now the good news: by suspending the regular blogging schedule, I hope to redirect some of that time into getting the Stonehell compilation moved closer to the finish line. I’m still not making any announcements as to when that might see completion but it hasn’t been neglected in the least. I’ve met and overcome a few issues with how I was going to compile the entire upper levels of the dungeon into one supplement, and those victories have removed some of the major stumbling blocks from my path. I’m going to balance my time between completing Stonehell and taking a breather from the constant design process. I think the end result will be much stronger because I’ll have avoided a crashing complete and utter burn out at the very end of it. I’ll keep folks posted as to the progress on that work as it comes along, just so you know I’m not neglecting it.
This blogging slow down is in no way effecting my participation in the One Page Dungeon Contest, which is approaching the midpoint for the deadline, by the way, and I am anticipating looking at what the contestants have to offer it. A few new prizes have been added since the original announcement, so if you haven’t checked it out recently, or you’re still on the fence about entering, go visit that link.
Finally, I see two big announcements coming over the horizon. I’m extremely excited about both of them but can’t even hint as to what they are. I’ll only state that this summer looks to be a very exciting time for both myself and fans of this blog.
Since I’m coherent enough to write a bit before I lapse into slumber yet again, I need to take to this opportunity to reveal some information of the “good news, bad news” variety. Following tradition, we will start with the bad news.
The bad news is that, until the end of May, there’s going to be a slow down on this electronic fish-wrapper. I’m not going completely dark, but the Monday, Wednesday, Friday schedule is most certainly going to be set aside for the next few weeks. There are a few reasons for this, some of which is the “good news,” but the primary one is that I’m feeling burned out about thinking of, writing about, and creating new material for the original role-playing game. Everybody needs some time off occasionally, and I’ve been running mostly without a hitch for nine months now – a time which has indeed gestated both some beautiful and horrific children of the mind. The time has come to take a step back and breathe some fresh air. I’ve even taken a sabbatical from my weekly gaming group to allow me to ponder other thoughts and dream new dreams about something other than dank dungeons for a little bit. Postings here for the next few weeks will still be role-playing related, but it’s time to explore new fields and focus less on game mechanics for a while. In addition, these posts will come when time and the creative process allows, rather than a predetermined schedule. Once we get past May, it is my hope to return to the M/W/F schedule with a refreshed mind ready for another foray back into the dungeon.
Now the good news: by suspending the regular blogging schedule, I hope to redirect some of that time into getting the Stonehell compilation moved closer to the finish line. I’m still not making any announcements as to when that might see completion but it hasn’t been neglected in the least. I’ve met and overcome a few issues with how I was going to compile the entire upper levels of the dungeon into one supplement, and those victories have removed some of the major stumbling blocks from my path. I’m going to balance my time between completing Stonehell and taking a breather from the constant design process. I think the end result will be much stronger because I’ll have avoided a crashing complete and utter burn out at the very end of it. I’ll keep folks posted as to the progress on that work as it comes along, just so you know I’m not neglecting it.
This blogging slow down is in no way effecting my participation in the One Page Dungeon Contest, which is approaching the midpoint for the deadline, by the way, and I am anticipating looking at what the contestants have to offer it. A few new prizes have been added since the original announcement, so if you haven’t checked it out recently, or you’re still on the fence about entering, go visit that link.
Finally, I see two big announcements coming over the horizon. I’m extremely excited about both of them but can’t even hint as to what they are. I’ll only state that this summer looks to be a very exciting time for both myself and fans of this blog.
Friday, April 24, 2009
A Medieval Church Inventory
Although I’ve been known to harp on the fact that I believe reality should never stand in the way of a good gaming experience, this doesn’t mean that I won’t reference actual historical sources in order to inspire and improve the game world. One of my favorite tricks for coming up with memorable weirdness in-game is to see what sort of bizarre hi-jinks humanity gets up to in the real world. Weird reality is too much fun not to use. In addition to the real but bizarre, I keep an eye out for itemized lists and inventories that date from the medieval period. These come in handy when it’s time to flesh out a location, dungeon room, or town business.
A few weeks ago, I was reading Life in a Medieval Village by Francis and Joseph Gies. That book details life in an English “open field” farm village circa the 12th and 13th centuries. Amongst the pages of that book was the following passage, which I found to be very useful in detailing what exactly might be found inside a church or temple in a pseudo-medieval setting:
A few weeks ago, I was reading Life in a Medieval Village by Francis and Joseph Gies. That book details life in an English “open field” farm village circa the 12th and 13th centuries. Amongst the pages of that book was the following passage, which I found to be very useful in detailing what exactly might be found inside a church or temple in a pseudo-medieval setting:
In 1287 Bishop Quinel of Exeter listed the minimum furnishings of a church: a silver or silver-gilt chalice; a silver or pewter vessel (ciborium) to hold the bread used in Communion; a little box of silver or ivory (pyx) to hold the remainder of the consecrated bread, and another vessel for unconsecrated bread; a pewter chrismatory for the holy oils; a censer and an incense boat (thurible); an osculatorium (an ornament by which the kiss of peace was given); three cruets; and a holy-water vessel. The church must have at least one stone altar, with cloths, canopy, and frontal (front hanging); a stone font that could be locked to prevent the use of baptismal water for witchcraft; and images of the church’s patron saint and of the Virgin Mary. Special candlesticks were provided for Holy Week and Easter, and two great portable crosses served, one for processions and one for visitation of the sick, for which the church also kept a lantern and a hand bell. To these requirements a list dictated by Archbishop Winchelsey in 1305 added the Lenten veil, to hang before the high altar, Rogation Day banners for gang week, “the bells with their cords,” and a bier to carry the dead. Conspicuously missing were benches, chairs or pews; the congregation stood, sat on the floor, or brought stools.It’s an inventory like this that makes one of the more difficult aspects of refereeing a breeze – coming up with treasure. It’s always nice to spice up the treasure list of a dungeon with something other than yet another gold necklace or ruby the size of a fist. Taking a look at the above passage, we can see a plethora of objects that are just begging to be gilded, bejeweled, or adorned and thereby bump up their market value. This is also a good starting place for determining what exactly might be found in your name level clerics stronghold/church once it’s time to start detailing those things out. Although this inventory is for a small church of the Christian faith, it’s not too difficult to adjust it to fit any sort of religion – real or imagined – that may exist in your own campaign.
The church was supposed to have a set of vestments for festivals and another for regular use. Bishop Quinel recommended a number of books to help the priest: a manual for baptism, marriage, and burial; an ordinal listing the offices to be recited throughout the church year; a missal with the words and the order of the Mass; a collect book container prayers; a “legend” with lessons from the Scriptures and passages from the lives of the saints; and music books, including a gradual for Mass, a troper for special services, a venitary for the psalms at matins, an antiphoner for the canonical hours, a psalter, and a hymnal. Books and vestments were stored in a church chest.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
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:
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.
“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.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
An Addition to Dungeon Design Philosophy
Long-time readers of this blog will know that I have a personal design philosophy when it comes to building dungeons. Inspired by the wild and woolly days of this hobby's beginnings, I've learned to let the need for realism and rationality to go on holiday if I think it's going to stand between me and a memorable dungeon experience. I summed up this philosophy some time back with the phrase, "Stop worrying and love the dungeon." That mantra still influences my efforts.
Today was one of those days where the universe syncs in a series of bizarre coincidences that causes one to revisit old ground. After commenting on how I wouldn't want a need for sensibility and rationality to stand in the way of the players assisting in adding levels of detail to the shared game world, I wandered over to Rob Conley's blog, Bat in the Attic. There, he was continuing his review of Dave Arnesen's First Fantasy Campaign. In a comment to that post, Jeff Rients mentioned that one of the cockamamie swords from FFC is floating around in his Cinder campaign. His rationale for this: "You know, just 'cause I can." This brought to mind the poem, "Some People" by Charles Bukowski, in which he writes, "some people never go crazy. what truly horrible lives they must lead."
I'm adding a sub-clause to the Society of Torch, Pole and Rope design philosophy of "Stop worrying and love the dungeon," which states, "Go crazy, just 'cause you can."
Today was one of those days where the universe syncs in a series of bizarre coincidences that causes one to revisit old ground. After commenting on how I wouldn't want a need for sensibility and rationality to stand in the way of the players assisting in adding levels of detail to the shared game world, I wandered over to Rob Conley's blog, Bat in the Attic. There, he was continuing his review of Dave Arnesen's First Fantasy Campaign. In a comment to that post, Jeff Rients mentioned that one of the cockamamie swords from FFC is floating around in his Cinder campaign. His rationale for this: "You know, just 'cause I can." This brought to mind the poem, "Some People" by Charles Bukowski, in which he writes, "some people never go crazy. what truly horrible lives they must lead."
I'm adding a sub-clause to the Society of Torch, Pole and Rope design philosophy of "Stop worrying and love the dungeon," which states, "Go crazy, just 'cause you can."
An Addendum to Spell Research
A new way to spice up the spell research process came to my mind last night and I think it’s a potentially cool one that allows the players to both contribute to the shared setting and rewards their creativity.
While I was researching the rules for spell creation in the various editions of D&D, one facet of it was repeated in both 1st and 2nd edition AD&D. In both those rules, the cost of spell research was based on the assumption that the character had access to a library (or shrine in the case of clerics). If they didn’t, the cost of research was either increased or they had to spend funds to first acquire a library.
While this is a little more convoluted than the spell research methods I intend to use, the idea of a personal research spell library is an alluring one – especially considering my profession as a librarian and archivist. I love adding new books complete with titles and authors to the game world for players to find and ponder over. It stands to reason that part of the monies spent during spell research goes to cover the purchase of arcane grimoires and obscure religious tomes to reference during the creation process, and this is covered within the abstract method presented in the game’s mechanics.
Rather than gloss this over, I thought that I’d integrate it with actual play a bit. My thought is this: for each 2,000 gp spent on the creation of a new spell, the player must give me the name and author of one book which was used in the spell creation process. The name must be indicative of a very specialized work that would pertain to the spell his character was attempting to create. So if Mack the MU was creating his magnificent mauler, Mack’s player might say that one of the tomes Mack bought to assist this process was Inquires into the Application of Conjured Downward Forces by Schumpti Rock-Dropper. That sounds specialized enough to me. It’s certainly more of a dedicated-sounding title than The Codex Supreme: Treatises on All Known Magicks.
Having deemed the book acceptable, both Mack’s player and I make a note of the fact that Mack now owns this book. At some future time, Mack’s player decides that there really needs to be a spell that would fill the gap that feather fall usually does (check the rule books, feather fall doesn’t show up until 1st edition AD&D). Deciding to fill that gap with a new spell called Mack’s delicate descent, our exemplary MU heads back to the spell lab. Now the cost to research such a spell would usually be a minimum of 2,000 gp. However, since Mack already owns a book dealing with conjured downward forces and thus being a reasonable reference source for his proposed new spell, I decide to give him a break on costs – say 500 gp. Mack only needs to spend 1,500 gp, Mack’s player has added a bit of flavor to the campaign world, and I have a springboard to use for new set dressing on future adventures. Maybe Schumpti Rock-Dropper has written other books and there’s an Inquires into the Application of Conjured Upward Forces to be found in the next arch-mage’s tower. Simple, imaginative, and conducive to the shared world experience - it’s a win-win for everyone.
While I was researching the rules for spell creation in the various editions of D&D, one facet of it was repeated in both 1st and 2nd edition AD&D. In both those rules, the cost of spell research was based on the assumption that the character had access to a library (or shrine in the case of clerics). If they didn’t, the cost of research was either increased or they had to spend funds to first acquire a library.
While this is a little more convoluted than the spell research methods I intend to use, the idea of a personal research spell library is an alluring one – especially considering my profession as a librarian and archivist. I love adding new books complete with titles and authors to the game world for players to find and ponder over. It stands to reason that part of the monies spent during spell research goes to cover the purchase of arcane grimoires and obscure religious tomes to reference during the creation process, and this is covered within the abstract method presented in the game’s mechanics.
Rather than gloss this over, I thought that I’d integrate it with actual play a bit. My thought is this: for each 2,000 gp spent on the creation of a new spell, the player must give me the name and author of one book which was used in the spell creation process. The name must be indicative of a very specialized work that would pertain to the spell his character was attempting to create. So if Mack the MU was creating his magnificent mauler, Mack’s player might say that one of the tomes Mack bought to assist this process was Inquires into the Application of Conjured Downward Forces by Schumpti Rock-Dropper. That sounds specialized enough to me. It’s certainly more of a dedicated-sounding title than The Codex Supreme: Treatises on All Known Magicks.
Having deemed the book acceptable, both Mack’s player and I make a note of the fact that Mack now owns this book. At some future time, Mack’s player decides that there really needs to be a spell that would fill the gap that feather fall usually does (check the rule books, feather fall doesn’t show up until 1st edition AD&D). Deciding to fill that gap with a new spell called Mack’s delicate descent, our exemplary MU heads back to the spell lab. Now the cost to research such a spell would usually be a minimum of 2,000 gp. However, since Mack already owns a book dealing with conjured downward forces and thus being a reasonable reference source for his proposed new spell, I decide to give him a break on costs – say 500 gp. Mack only needs to spend 1,500 gp, Mack’s player has added a bit of flavor to the campaign world, and I have a springboard to use for new set dressing on future adventures. Maybe Schumpti Rock-Dropper has written other books and there’s an Inquires into the Application of Conjured Upward Forces to be found in the next arch-mage’s tower. Simple, imaginative, and conducive to the shared world experience - it’s a win-win for everyone.
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