I Love Creative Players

When you’re GMing a game, what really makes you smile? What is it that your players do which makes you feel like as though the game is going perfectly? For myself, I love it when my players approach a problem from a direction I never considered. Or, even better, when they decide to tackle a problem I haven’t considered at all. I’m of the opinion that if they’re thinking that creatively, then it is because I was able to foster an environment where they felt like thinking creatively was beneficial. They recognize that the world around them has a certain kind of logic to it, and that logic is consistent enough that they’re able to think about problems diegetically.

I’d like to share three stories which I think encapsulate this idea really well.

Skeleton Feet: Different areas of my game world are keyed to different encounter tables. Everything which can be rolled on those tables has been carefully selected for that area. For unintelligent creatures, my reason for putting them there might be as simple as ‘this is where they live.’ For more intelligent beings, there will often be a small backstory, perhaps a couple sentences in length. If the players encounter 1d4 orcs, it might be because there’s a hidden orc village in the area, which was founded when a group of orcs was driven from the northern mountains by humans. Simple as it may be, it already solves a lot of problems. The orcs will react violently to humans, there is a village nearby for the players to find if they want to find out where the orcs came from, and I’ve added to the history of my world by saying orcs used to live in the mountains to the North, even if my players don’t find that out.

In my game world, 3 or 4 adjacent ‘zones’ all share a small possibility that the players will encounter a handful of goblin skeletons. The backstory on these skeletons is that many many decades ago, a necromancer passed through the area. He was still relatively inexperienced, and he experimented with his necromatic powers by raising a lot of dead goblins from a mass grave he found. The necromancer has since moved on, and is now a powerful lich in a tower in the far south. Given that you can’t really interrogate skeletons, I figured that if my players encountered them, they’d wonder why they were there, but not pursue the idea too far. To be honest, when I wrote that, I was really just looking for a way to make the encounter table more varied in those areas.

It took my players a few sessions of adventuring before they encountered the skeletons. They managed to defeat them handily. Here’s what happened, (roughly transcribed from a recording I made of the game):

Phoenix The Sorceress: Do any of our characters know about undead? What can we learn about these?
Me: Knowledge(Religion) is used for undead. Gibbous?
Gibbous The Cleric: Sweet, I’m useful! *roll* I got a 17.
Me: Alright! You’re able to notice two things about these goblin skeletons. First, they seem to have been animated for a very long time, and second, it doesn’t seem like they were being guided by any set of instructions.
Gibbous: [Sarcastic] That is super helpful.

At this point, the party very nearly moved on, figuring that there was nothing interesting about the encounter. But after a bit of chatter, some of the other players started to get curious.

Rosco the Ranger: Maybe they came from a nearby crypt?
Poker the Rogue: How old are the swords they were using? Can we tell?
Pumofe the Barbarian: I just woke up from a 200 year sleep. Do their swords look like something I would recognize from when I was around.
Me: Interesting! No, they don’t conform to any style you would have been familiar with 200 years ago. They are probably of more recent stock.
Pumofe: Can we see on the bottom of their feet how much bone is worn away?
Poker: [Joking] Check how worn their teeth are, check them for parasites…
Me: Wow. Um…well, you’re not CSI, but the feet seem to be worn down pretty thin. They’ve been walking around for maybe twenty to fifty years.
Pumofe: Do they have anything stuck to them which might tell us where they’ve been?
Me: Lots of little tree branches, leaves. A few tiny scraps of cloth, but its so deteriorated that it’s impossible to identify.
Gibbous: Is there someone we could ask about this maybe? Someone who would know the history of the area? I have Knowledge(History).
Me: Well, knowing anything about this would probably be too specific for your character to know about, since you’re not from around here. But make the check, and we’ll see if you know of anyone more familiar with the area’s history than you are.
Gibbous: I rolled a 16, so that comes up to 20!
Me: That’s plenty. Do you remember the town down South between the two rivers? The high priest of Obad-Hai is elderly and learned. He would know a great deal of the area’s history.
Pumofe: Is that on the way?
Poker: Yeah, we need to follow the rivers to get back to the Wizard’s tower anyway.
Gibbous: And we can still kill orcs along the way!

From there the players continued on to the town of Overton, spoke with the high priest, and learned of the necromancer who had passed through the area some 30 years prior on his way south. They added the Lich to their “list of things to take care of,” about 10 levels before I had planned on them doing so.

I love this story in particular because it demonstrates that my players don’t view the world as random anymore. I honestly don’t think I would have considered how worn down the skeletons feet were if I was a player.

Razorgrass: This incident occurred in my most recent game, actually. The players traveled to the Abyss to hunt for demon’s blood. Given their low level, I decided to send them to a rather innocuous corner of the Abyss. Instead of facing hordes of demons, I designed an area where the environment itself was hostile. One where divine (i.e. healing) magic would summon demons to attack them.

The players had only been there a short time when they encountered a large field of grass, which they quickly determined was razor sharp. Fortunately, most of the group is heavily armored, and those who aren’t only took a small amount of damage. None the less, the players didn’t want to squander their hit points in a place this dangerous. So Phoenix used her Gem of Fire Ray to burn a 60ft path through the field.

Shortly before this, the players had hast healing magics, and I had been tracking a band of demons as they approached the party’s location. They had only just begun walking down the path when the demons burst from the trees behind them. I described the demons as “About 5ft tall, corpulent, and naked. With a jaundiced-yellow color to them, and wicked claws on each hand.”

The barbarian wasted no time in shouting to the others: “Run into the grass!” The demons were some of the least intelligent of the Abyss, and were excited by the prospect of devouring mortal flesh on their home plane. They charged into the grass after the players, and promptly had their HP reduced by almost half as each step through the razorgrass dealt 1d4 damage to their naked bodies. The players were easily able to wipe the floor with the weakened demons.

Though they did pay a price: there was much less blood in each demon after the battle for them to harvest.

Zalekios and the Buildings: In this story, I actually wasn’t GMing. I was playing my chaotic evil Warlock/Rogue, Zalekios Gromar. None the less, this story marked a turning point for me as a GM. I felt such a sense of accomplishment and freedom after this encounter, that I decided this was the kind of feeling I wanted to enable my own players to experience.

Zalekios Gromar is, in a word, overpowered. And the GM who kindly runs games for me has often been frustrated by the difficulty of crafting encounters to challenge me. Zalekios himself is supposed to be an intelligent, but extremely overconfident character. He once leaped from the 4th floor of a tower simply because he was bored by attacking his enemy from range. And after being overpowered for so long, I the player had become pretty overconfident myself. Nothing seemed to be able to stop me. So when a Paladin appeared in a town I was resting in, and demanded I surrender myself, I charged him with eldritch blasts blazing. We battled for several rounds, each dealing a lot of damage to the other. But I quickly noticed that my HP was getting dangerously low. Zalekios was in very real danger of dying.

I was kicking myself for being so foolish as to charge a paladin head on, and frantically tried to come up with something I could do to get out of this alive. The paladin had already told me he’d tracked me for weeks, so running would only be a temporary reprieve. And since he could magically heal himself and I could not, that seemed like a bad plan. Desperate for some tactical advantage, I asked the GM what buildings were nearby. We were, after all, in a town. He said that the encounter was taking place in a largely undeveloped area of the town, but drew three houses on the map none the less. They were small, just one story high, made of cheap wood and clay.

That was all Zalekios needed.

He cast a special type of Dimensional Door which left a silent image behind, and ported up to the roof of the nearest house–just barely within his range. I attacked from range while the Paladin was distracted, and then again while he charged the house. Instead of climbing it as I suspected he would, the Paladin simply bowled himself into the supporting frames for the house, causing it to collapse just as I ported away. I tried to point out that the paladin should lose his powers for destroying someone’s home, but my GM replied that all three houses were abandoned, and that this part of town was sparse because all the buildings here were being taken down so nicer ones could be built. The pally did, however, take damage from a building falling on him.

I bounced between the remaining two houses that were within range of my Dimensional Door, trying to keep the paladin at range. He inexorably began to limit my escape options until he had me completely cornered. I was at 3 hit points, and had to make a choice. Either I could attack and be killed immediately afterwords, or I could run and be killed immediately afterwords. I decided that if this was Zalekios’ time, I’d rather see him go out with some fight left in him. I charged up an Eldritch Blast–

–and never, in all my years of gaming, have I been so ecstatic to see a natural twenty. The paladin was blasted, and Zalekios strapped the body to his horse just so he could resurrect and torture it.

The GM later admitted to me that the paladin had been specifically designed to beat me. He was a gestalt Paladin/Barbarian (which I pointed out should have been impossible) who was a good four levels higher than Zalekios himself was. The GMs plan had been to capture me and take me to trial or something. But my tactics had defied his expectations, and allowed a little bit of luck to make the difference between life and death.

That’s one of the best feelings I’ve ever had while playing a tabletop game. I was supposed to lose, the game was stacked against me. But because I made superior use of my environment and the choices available to me, I won the game.

I want my players to feel like that as often as possible.

Updated Forest Battlefield Generator

A long while ago, shortly after I started taking this blog seriously, I wrote a post about making your forest environments more exciting during battles. It was the first of my Spicing Up the Battlemat series of posts, which is a series I’ve always found both fun and useful. Along with that post, I made a pdf file to help generate forest battlefields. I don’t know if anyone else has ever downloaded it, but I’ve certainly gotten a lot of use out of it myself. However, having now used it for several months, I’ve noticed more than a few problems. Not only are there several typos, but some options (most notably insects) came up far too often.

I recently took the time to revisit that chart, and I’ve updated a number of things. The layout is more clear, I’ve removed some useless information, added some cool new options, and altered some of the probabilities. I’ve also changed the rules about undergrowth, which I had taken directly from page 427 of the Pathfinder Core Rulebook. As it turns out, however, people who design tabletop role playing games might not be nature experts. I happen to have one such expert in my group, and they recently pointed out that when there’s high tree density, sunlight doesn’t penetrate to the forest floor, and thus there is less undergrowth, not more.

For my own purposes, I use this chart in almost every game, and I fully believe it has enriched our group’s experience. So, if you’re interested, here’s the PDF. An image of the file is also available below.

Random Forest Battlefield Generator v2

Negune: The Nation of Stekett

This is the third in a series of posts about the continent of Negune. Negune is the setting for my Ascendant Crusade campaign, as well as The Girl and the Granite Throne series of short stories. Previous posts in this series have provided an overview of the continent as a whole, and a detailed account of the nation of Regalia.

Stekett traces its roots back to a paladin named Grephar Siveren. More than eight hundred years ago, during Grephar’s adventures with his six legendary companions, the group pursued a clan of violent stone giants into the mountains of present-day Stekett. There, the giants regrouped, and called upon other clans to help them in their fight. The adventurers nearly met their end in that battle, but they managed to scatter; Horatiana’s limp form slung over Grephar’s shoulder. What had been an attempt to stop a single giant raid turned into a two year guerrilla war against all the stone giants of that region. During that time, Grephar frequently remarked to his companions that if the giants were clever enough to utilize their natural surroundings properly, the adventuring party wouldn’t stand a chance.

Years later, when the party went their separate ways, Grephar decided to return to Stekett. At heart, he was a solider and a tactician. If he was to found a kingdom, he decided, it would be one that could defend itself from any attack. Even long after he was dead and gone.

Stekett is the second largest autonomous nation on the continent, after Regalia. It is also the most geographically separated from the other nations. Anyone who wishes to travel to or from Stekett must choose either a long and dangerous journey through the wildlands, a long and dangerous journey through the unpredictable island of Argania, or a voyage by sea. Most opt for the latter, and Stekett maintains a thriving trade relationship with the two Regalian provinces of Shield Haven and Centralia by utilizing the small sea that connects the three.

Military life is a major part of Steketian culture. While the law does not require enlistment, nearly every citizen spends at least a few years in military service, and it is regarded as a high honor to defend one’s homeland. Only about 5% of Steketians never serve in the nation’s armed forces, and many of those are simply unable to do so based on physical frailty, or chronic illness. Those who do not spend time in military service are not actively discriminated against, but find themselves cut off from Steketian culture, since they lack an experience which is considered to be fundamental. This causes them to miss out on opportunities available to the majority of their countryfolk.

Due to the relative peace on the continent, the Steketian military focuses its attention on preventing the monstrous races from organizing. There is usually at least one flotilla of ships active on the sea, and two legions of ground soldiers active in the wildlands–though they obey the ancient dictate to never establish permanent bases in that area. Stekett is also the only nation which sends regular expeditions into Argania. These missions are dangerous, and consist entirely of volunteers. It is hoped that in time, a safe method of passing through Argania can be devised.

Given the importance of the military in Stekett, it is perhaps not surprising that military leaders are powerful figures in politics as well. Since the death of Grephar, the nation has been ruled by a triad, the members of which share power equally: the Commander General, the High Admiral, and the Prime Minister. The three represent the Steketian army, navy, and civilian government, respectively. Most decisions require only a majority vote between the three. However, any decision to go to war with another nation requires a unanimous vote, and any single member of the triad may choose to call an end to war.

As Grephar noted, the geography of Stekett is uniquely defensible. Treacherous mountain ranges limit any invading army to a very few avenues of attack. Aside from attempting to cross the dangerous Arganian island, invaders must choose between two paths into Stekett. First, they can travel across the wildlands and attempt to breech the northern boarder, but to do so they must cross the Iron Lake which is defended by numerous barriers, traps, land based weaponry, and an elite flotilla of freshwater ships. The only other option would be attempting to land on the southern Steketian coastline. However, most of the southern coast is formed by high cliffs and rocky waters. There are only four safe places to land ships, and each one is home to either a port city, or a shipyard. Each is defended by the peerless Steketian navy.

Furthermore, nearly a third of Stekett’s total landmass is within a natural encirclement of mountain ranges. The only passage through the ring of mountains is a gorge, roughly 300 feet wide, called Stone Giant Pass. One of Grophar’s first edicts upon founding Stekett was that a great barrier should be built to seal that opening: The Obsidian Gate. It took three generations of Stekett’s most gifted stonemasons, wizards, and iron smiths to fully construct and reinforce the gate. The outward swinging double doors are 20ft thick, and their movement is supported by massive railings built into the ground along their swinging arc. With a full compliment of men and beasts operating them, the doors can be opened or closed in 20 minutes time. While not being used to defend against an oncoming enemy, however, the gates are left open.

Economically, Stekett produces the finest meats, fruits, and armaments anywhere on Negune. A military force in the Wildlands will commonly return bearing its weight in meats from the beasts there, and Steketian methods for preserving and preparing that meat are as advanced as their military forces. Most of the land within Stekett’s boarders is used to cultivate various types of fruit. A few farms even use minor magics to cultivate fruits which would not normally grow in the area–though these farms are generally quite small, and the fruits they produce are considered delicacies.

In the West most region of Stekett, nestled against the mountains, is the city of Anvilholm, known across the continent as the “City of Swords.” This multi-tiered metropolis was built by humans, but incorporates many designs most commonly found in dwarven citadels. The entire township is designed to function as a colossal smithy for masters of arms crafting. The ring of hammers is constant within the city walls, lasting all day and through the night. So single minded is the populace that even food and other basic items must be brought several times a day from nearby settlements, which are sustained entirely by providing support to Anvilholm. The settlement first began as a mining colony, but when a vein of Mithril was discovered, craftspeople flocked to the town in droves. Over the centuries the mine has continued to be a source of materials for Anvilholm. Not only of Mithril, but many other metals as well. It has been speculated that the Anvilholm mine is the richest on the entire continent. A claim which makes the dwarves of Shornholm none too happy.

Stekett’s legal system sometimes appears draconian to outsiders–or at least overly security conscious. The most noted example of this is Stekett’s treatment of arcane spellcasters. While the casting of arcane magics is not prohibited, it is strictly regulated. All such spellcasters are required to register with the ministry of artillery, and are subject to four random inspections each year. These inspections are generally conducted in a friendly and respectful manner, but some wizards understandably object to having their entire spell repertoire, as well as all of their research, tracked by the government. Some spells–including most of the enchantment and divination schools–are strictly regulated, and require a dictate from a military officer of general’s rank or higher. Additionally, while Stekett has never instituted a draft among its general population and allows members of the military to retire at their leisure, arcane spellcasters are always considered to be in reserve. Spellcasters visiting Stekett will need to submit their spellbooks for inspection, and based on their contents, may be required to leave their spellbook in a government office during their stay within the nation’s boarders.

Colorful Characters 17: Limenent Geary, Duchess of Greyholm

Limenent Geary was the same as lot of kids who grew up on the streets of Darton; she had a tough exterior, no idea where she came from, and no respect for a legal system which would rather see her die of starvation than live through theft. She was just a lot better at that last part than the other kids were. By the time she was in her teens, Limenent had been accepted into the Darton Thieves’ Guild. Before she was twenty she had made a reputation for herself as a thief with a knack for daring heists, and never getting caught. Her specialty was the manor houses of the rich, and she made a comfortable living for herself.

During one such heist, Limenent broke in at ground level and made her way cautiously into the basement. In her experience, many of her ‘patrons’ (as she sometimes called them) kept pieces of artwork and other valuables in storage. By fencing these, rather than the more visible wealth in the living areas, the theft might not be discovered for weeks, or even months. But this house was strange. The building’s sublevels were as finely furnished as the living areas normally were, with carpets covering the stone floors, and pieces of artwork hanging on the walls or resting on tables, rather than stored in crates or covered by tarps. She didn’t understand what was going on, and she didn’t like not knowing what was going on. Thinking she could just hit up a different house the next evening, she turned to leave–and slammed face first into what felt like a stone wall.

What it turned out to be was a man’s chest. A man of no great height or girth, but a man as cold, hard, and sturdy as stone. Limenent was no fool. The man was clearly more than he appeared to be, most likely a a spellcaster of some sort. She immediately tried to dart past him, hoping she moved quick enough to prevent him from getting a good look at her. Her face was covered, but there was no point in taking undue risks. It didn’t matter, though, because the man was twice as fast. His hand darted out like lightning, taking hold of Limenent’s neck and lifting her effortlessly to slam against the wall. In desperation, a dagger appeared in Limenent’s hand, and she stabbed into the man’s arm, but it only tore his clothes and glanced harmlessly aside.

The two stared at each other for a long moment. Limenent struggled to breathe, but she refused to betray any weakness in her gaze. Blackness started to appear at the edges of her vision, and she felt herself about to lose consciousness. Then the grip on her neck weakened, and she felt her back sliding down the wall until her feet were safely on the ground. She looked up, unaware of when she had broken her captor’s gaze. He bared his teeth at her, and for the first time she saw that they were unnaturally sharp. She had only begun to wonder why that was when he forced her head back, and drove his razor teeth into her jugular vein.

Limenent Geary died.

When she awoke some time later, lying in a bed in a dark room, she knew exactly what had happened. Something about her transformation had granted her understanding–not that it was difficult to figure out. The man had been a vampire, and now she was one too. A fledgling undead bound to serve the one who created her until he was destroyed. She immediately set about planning that destruction, but each time she tried her mind would wander elsewhere. She would later learn that the same magics which compelled her to obey her new master also prevented her from plotting against him.

As it turned out, Baron Telmalane–that’s what he called himself–had been impressed by Limenent’s resourcefulness. While she had been easy prey for him, he recognized that she had not been prepared to encounter a vampire. He even complimented her by noting that if she had been, she might have stood a chance against him. With the vampiric might he had bestowed upon her, she would make an impressive agent of his will. And though she was unable to disobey him, he promised that the rewards for her service could be great.

For decades the younger vampire did as she was told. She dutifully carried out her master’s will, be it delivering a message to a fellow, or assassinating a rival. And, as he had promised, she was well rewarded for her work. She had personal wealth, status among her master’s servants, and freedom to feed upon whomever she pleased. But she chaffed beneath the yolk of servitude. She strained against the mental bonds which diverted her each time she tried to plot against her master, but even a century after her enslavement she found her focus constantly diverted.

Circumstance intervened on her behalf one night when Baron Telmalane was again staying in his Darton manor. While gazing out the top story windows, Limanent saw a party of heavily armed men and women approach the house. There were ten of them, and based on their equipment there was only one thing they could be: hunters. They had discovered that the lord of the manor was a vampire masquerading as a reclusive noble, and come to destroy him. Seeing a ray of hope for herself, Limanent recalled that her master had expressed a desire for more exercise a few months back. Surely he would enjoy fighting these weaklings himself. She found a candle, and climbed out the window onto the rooftop so she could have a better view of the stars. Once she was there, she poured the candle’s wax into her ears, because the warm sensation might feel nice on her cold skin.

She gazed up at the moon, and sought to hold on to the fragile illusion she had created for herself. She did not know her master was in danger, could not hear his cries for her aide. She sat in still silence for a quarter hour, then a wave of pain slammed into her. Her temples throbbed, and her back arched as a scream escaped her lungs. And as soon as it began it was over. She lay panting on the roof, weak from pain. But she knew, instinctively, that she was no longer controlled by anyone. She picked the wax from her ears and listened as the hunters searched the house for any more creatures. They never thought to search the roof, which was good because Limanent could not have stood against them. She waited until they left, then cautiously climbed back into the manor just in time to avoid the morning sun.

Once she recovered, Limanent immediately set to work. While she’d never been able to plot against Baron Telmalane, she’d spent decades planning what she would do if she were ever free of him. She knew his manor was no longer safe, so she immediately took flight to find a safe haven where she would–at least temporarily–be safe from vampire hunters. Through the following months she returned to her her roots as a thief. In life, it had afforded her a comfortable living, but in death she was capable of so much more. By transforming herself into a cloud of mist, she could enter a building through a crack in the wall, rather than fumbling at a locked door. With her great strength, she could heavy sacks of riches effortlessly. And a century of vampirism had left her with little regard for human life, allowing her to easily dispose of anyone who discovered her pilfering. When she ran out of public buildings to rob, she began using her vampiric charms to coax an invitation from unwitting residence.

Within a year, Limanent was fabulously wealthy by mortal standards, but the people of Darton were well aware that they had a master thief among them. So she hired a battalion of porters, and moved away. She boarded a ship, and crossed the southern sea. When she reached the continent of Edargeln, she purchased a manor house of her own in the capitol city of Abingarde. She filled it with riches, and introduced herself to high society as the Duchess of Greyholm. A place which did not actually exist, but was very far away so it was understandable no one has heard of it.

Limenent continues to live there, though by now she is known as Duchess Geary the Third.

Limenent Geary, Duchess of Greyholm (CR 11)

XP: 12,800
Female Human Vampire, Rogue 10
NE Undaed
Init +10; Senses Perception +23 (+28 to locate traps), Darkvision (60ft)

Defenses

AC 26, Flat Footed 19, Touch 17 [10 + Dex(6) + Armor(3) + Natural(6) + Dodge(1)] (AC 29 v. traps) (Cannot be caught flat footed, nor flanked, nor sneak attacked by a rogue of less than 14th level)
hp 78 (10d8 + 20)
Fast Healing 5
Fort +3 (Immune unless effect can target objects, or is harmless) Ref +15 (+16 v. Traps)(On 1/2 damage, takes no damage) Will +5
DR 10/Magic & Silver
Resist Fire 20, Channel 4, Cold 10, Electricity 10
Immunities Mind affecting effects, Bleed, Death effects, Disease, Paralysis, Poison, Sleep effects, Stunning, Nonlethal Damage, Ability Drain, Energy Drain, Physical Ability Score Damage, Exhaustion, Fatigue effects, Death from massive damage, effects which require a fortitude save

Offense

Speed 40ft
Melee Shortsword of Subtlety +15/10 (1d6 +6/19-20 x2)[Sneak Attack +17/12 (1d6 +9/19-20 x2)]
Melee Slam +12/7 (1d4 + 5/20 x2)(Magic Weapon)(Energy Drain)
Ranged Shortbow +16/11 (1d6 + 2/20 x3) [Range Increment: 70ft]
Sneak Attack 5d6 against flat footed or flanked opponents.

Stats

Str 20 (+5) Dex 22 (+6) Con — (–) Int 17 (+3) Wis 10 (+0) Cha 20 (+5)
Base Atk +7/2; CMB +12; CMD 28
Feats Quick Draw, Point Blank Shot, Far Shot, Iron Will, Run, Weapon Focus(Shortbow), Alertness, Combat Reflexes, Dodge, Improved Initiative, Lightning Reflexes, Toughness
Rogue Talents Fast Stealth, Stand Up, Surprise Attack, Weapon training(Shortsword), Opportunist
Skills Acrobatics (+19), Bluff(+26), Craft(Trapmaking)(+16), Diplomacy(+20), Disable Device(+24), Knowledge(Dungeoneering)(+16), Knowledge(Undead)(+13), Perception(+23)(+28 to locate traps), Sleight of Hand(+19), Stealth(+33), Use Magic Device(+18)
Languages Common, Thieve’s Cant, The Gravespeech
SQ
–Quick Draw: May draw weapons as a free action.
–Point Blank Shot: Ranged weapons gain +1 to attack and damage within 30ft.
–Far Shot: Each range increment imposes only a -1 penalty, rather than a -2.
–Run: May move 5 times normal movement rate when running, and maintains full Dex bonus to AC while doing so.
–Fast Stealth: May move at full speed while moving stealthily at no penalty.
–Stand Up: May stand up from the prone position as a free action. Still provokes attacks of opportunity.
–Surprise Attack: During a surprise round, foes are always considered flat footed. Even if they have already taken an action.
–Opportunist: 1/round, may make an attack of opportunity against a foe who has been struck for damage in melee by another character.
–Blood Drain: If an opponent is pinned, may deal 1d4 Con damage per round. Gains +5 HP (or +5 temporary HP) for each round blood is drained.
—Children of the Night: 1/day, summon 1d6+1 rat swarms, 1d4+1 bat swarms, or 2d6 wolves as a standard action. Creatures arrive in 2d6 rounds, and remain for 1 hour.
–Create Spawn: Creatures slain by blood drain or energy drain rise as subservient vampires within 1d4 days.
–Dominate: Target must succeed on a will save (DC 20) or fall under the effects of a Dominate spell.
–Energy Drain: Creatures hit by slam attacks gain two negative levels.
–Change Shape: May assume the form of a dire bat or wolf, as Beast Shape II
–Gaseous Form: As a standard action, or upon reaching 0 HP, the vampire can assume Gaseous Form indefinitely. Has a fly speed of 20ft with perfect maneuverability.
–Shadowless: Casts no shadows, nor is he reflected in a mirror
–Spider Climb: May climb surfaces as though under the effects of the Spider Climb spell.
–Combat Reflexes: May make up to 5 attacks of opportunity per round. Even while flat footed.

Weaknesses
–Aversion: Cannot tolerate the strong odor of garlic, mirrors, nor strongly presented holy symbols. Must succeed on a DC 25 will save each round, or stay at least 5ft away from these objects.
—Entrance: Cannot enter any private home or dwelling unless invited by someone with the authority to do so.
–Sunlight: Exposure to direct sunlight causes the staggered condition in the first round, and utter destruction in the second round.
–Running Water: Being submerged in running water deals damage equal to 1/3rd of max hit points per round. Upon reaching 0HP, the character could not escape using gaseous form as normal.
–Wooden Stake: If a wooden stake is driven through the heart while Limenent is helpless, she is instantly slain. However, if the stake is ever removed, she returns to life unless her head is also severed and burned.

Gear +2/+4 Shortsword of Subtlety, +2 Shortbow, 24 Arrows, 6 Sleep Arrows, 8 Arrows of Ice (+2d8 cold damage), Masterwork Studded Leather Improved Fire Resistance Armor, Ring of Water Walking, Ring of Speed +10, Softfoot Boots (stealth +6), 350 gp

The Wide-Swing Dilemma

My party’s cleric wields a large, two-handed warhammer. It’s not a weapon which appears in any of the Pathfinder books I’ve read, but I include it in my games as a piece of standard equipment because they are awesome. In our last game session, the party was ambushed by a number of animated goblin skeletons while they were exploring the base of a giant statue. As monsters go, skeletons are not particularly deadly. But they were numerous, and none of the players had ever encountered a creature with damage reduction before. The party’s ranger was none too pleased when his arrow simply clattered through the undead’s ribcage without dealing damage.

Once I explained how damage reduction worked to my party, they figured out that the cleric’s warhammer, as a bludgeoning weapon, was able to overcome this defense. The barbarian cleverly responded by finding the largest rock she could, hefting it, and waddling around the battlefield smashing skeletons to pieces. The rogue and ranger did the best they could, but found that their piecing and slashing weapons weren’t up to the task. They encouraged the cleric to take the forefront in the battle, since her weapon was ideally suited to the fight. She did, and eventually ended up in this position:

I know, my battlemat is out of scale with the miniature base. I need to do something about that eventually.

Anyway, when the player found herself in this position, she told me she wanted to try and attack all three of the skeletal goblins in a single horizontal swing. I couldn’t think of a single diegetic reason why she wouldn’t be able to attempt this. I made a quick ruling at the table, and told her that she would be able to attempt it as a full action, but that each attack would be made at a cumulative -2 penalty. So her attack on the first goblin in her arc would be at a -2 penalty, the center goblin would be at a -4 penalty, and the final goblin would be attacked at a -6 penalty. This seemed like a reasonable penalty to me, and I had the player roll her attack dice.

As it turned out, none of her attacks landed, nor did any of her attacks land on her next turn when she tried the same tactic again. The penalties didn’t even come into play, she never rolled above a 10. Bad luck, but the party prevailed, and continued on with their adventure. But the encounter stuck with me throughout the rest of the evening, and I’ve continued to ponder it ever since. My ruling ‘steps on the toes’ of two mechanics built into the Pathfinder game: multiple attacks from a high base attack bonus, and Cleave/Great Cleave feats.

If you’ve played Pathfinder, or D&D 3.x, you’re familiar with these rules. Each class has a base attack bonus which rises as the character goes up in level, and this bonus is added to most types of physical attack that the character will make. Once the creature’s BAB gets high enough, they gain secondary, tertiary, and even quaternary bonuses which are lower (-5, -10, and -15 lower) than their full BAB. As a full action, the character can make multiple attacks per round using progressively lower bonuses. But while a character must be at least level 11 to gain three attacks with their BAB, my table ruling allowed a 2nd level character to attempt three attacks. And she did it at a -2, -4, -6 penalty, rather than a -0, -5, -10 penalty. A net bonus over the official way of doing things.

Gaining iterative attacks from base attack bonus does have a few benefits which I would not have allowed the cleric, had she asked. For example, a character attempting multiple attacks using their BAB is allowed to choose the order in which they attack their foes, can take a 5ft step in between attacks, and can even decide whether or not they want to continue attacking, or take a move action instead, after the first of their attacks. None of these should be possible if all of the attacks are made in a single fluid motion. But nor would they seem to make up for the fact that my cleric was able to access an ability which (according to the rules) was far beyond her ability.

The second rule I stepped on the toes of, the cleave and greater cleave feats, serve a similar function. If a character with the cleave feat successfully deals damage to one foe, then that character may make a second attack (at their full BAB) against another adjacent enemy. The greater cleave feat works the same way, it simply allows the player to continue making new attacks against adjacent enemies so long as the chain of successful attacks remains unbroken. Both feats subject the player to a -2 AC penalty for a round after use.

My player did not have the benefit of being able to use her full BAB on each attack, as the cleave feat allows players to do. But she also did not suffer a -2 penalty to AC, nor did she need to successfully deal damage to the first enemy in order to attack the second, or the third. And, on top of that, she didn’t need to take 3 feats (Power Attack > Cleave > Great Cleave) to make the attempt in the first place. Once again, it seems that my table ruling gave the player more a net bonus over the official rules.

Despite my ruling interfering with two official rules, I can’t help but feel that I acted correctly. I still cannot see a single diegetic reason why Gibbous the cleric would not be able to attack all three of the closing skeletons with a single horizontal swing. And while I’m sure the rules could be debated forever, I don’t particularly care. Combat balance is not sacrosanct. Player Agency is.

None the less, I am left with a few thoughts on how to improve my game in the future.

If a player attempts this tactic again, I think they should take a -2 penalty to AC for being off balance. I think it makes a lot of sense that a player who attempts a really wild attack wouldn’t be able to block attacks as effectively.
If a player attempts this tactic again, a slightly more harsh penalty might be appropriate. A -3 cumulative penalty, instead of a -2, should be sufficient.
Players with high base attack bonuses can make iterative attacks as a standard action, rather than a full action. This is a house rule that my twitter friend Rilgon first pointed out to me, and I’ve thought it sounded like a good idea for awhile now.
I long ago abolished the Power Attack feat from my games, because it falls prey to my problem with feats. I now think I’ll remove the Cleave feat for the same reason. Great Cleave can remain, as a means of allowing players to overcome the cumulative attack penalty, but only if they hit each time. After that the penalty stacks for each attack they miss.

I’m curious how other GMs would have handled this situation. Personally, it’s just edged me closer to the day when I build my own tabletop role playing system, with blackjack and hookers.

Abyssal Rambling

Note: Members of my ToKiJaTiMo gaming group should not read this post.

I don’t remember precisely when I first obtained my copy of D&D 3rd edition’s Manual of the Planes. It was probably among the first supplements I ever owned. It’s almost certainly the first RPG book I read cover-to-cover. I spent much of my early life exploring fantastical worlds through books and video games, so I was no stranger to the idea of otherworldly dimensions where the laws of reality work differently. What was completely new to me was to see those worlds explained and quantified. In a narrative, it’s important to maintain an aura of mystique about such locals. But this book had diagrams, explanations of different types of gravity, even pseudoscience about how the planes interacted with one another. The volume of concepts the book presented set my imagination aflame. The possibilities of running a planar adventure are always wafting about in my mind, but in all this time, I’ve never got around to actually doing it.

In our most recent session I presented my players with four different hooks. The elves needed help in their war against the orcs to the south, and there were three different adventures the players would need to undertake to obtain the three different materials they would need to transform their sorceress into an Arachnohominid. So what happens?

Gibbous The Cleric “What about all those gnomes that were turned to stone in the dungeon?”

GM “Well, Pumofe [The party’s new gnome barbarian] was one of them. The rest are still in there.”

Gibbous “We can’t just leave them down there. We should help them first.”

Poker the Rogue “I see no profit in that.”

Rosco The Ranger “Well, we could at least tell the gnomes that they’re in there.”

Pumofe “But they can’t get them out, can they? There’s the magical barrier thing that keeps gnomes out.”

Poker “Oh! Since we’re the only ones who can go in there, we can charge the village per statue we carry out!”

Gibbous “Guys, we have gotta help these gnomes! I wasn’t here last session, how did we rescue Pumofe?”

Rosco “We used Demon’s blood.”

Gibbous “I have some of that!”

GM “No you don’t, that’s the blood they used.”

Gibbous “Cuthbert damn it! We need to find some demons then. Come on guys!”

A few hours of gameplay later, the party had tracked down their wizard friend Mahudar Kosopske, and convinced him to make them a Gem of Plane Shift with 2 charges. One to get them to the Abyss, and one to bring them home. (a scene which I recently posted an illustration of, in fact). Assuming they stick to their present adventure path, it looks like I’ll be running my first Planar adventure pretty soon. I’m excited, and brimming with ideas.

The gem the wizard is making for them will teleport them to a relatively unpopulated area, ostensibly for safety’s sake, since they are still low level adventurers. But since the purpose of their trip is to harvest blood from demons, a remote location serves the double purpose of making their task more difficult. I’ve been trying to come up with challenges they’ll need to face which will test their mettle without giving them what they need too easily. So far I’ve com up with the following:

Field of Chains an area of ground covered in barbed chains and dead bodies. At first these chains will appear to be set dressing, but once all players are standing on the chains, they will begin to make grapple attempts against the players. Once grappled by at least two chains, they will attempt to pull the player apart. Each chain is AC: 12, Hardness: 4, HP: 6, with a CMB of +6. Each round a character is successfully grappled, they will take 1 damage from the barbs on each chain, as they shift and twist. Once there are two chains on a player, they will make a combat maneuver check at a -4 penalty to pin the character. This penalty is reduced by 1 for each chain on the player. Once a player is pinned, the chains deal 1d6 damage per round as they attempt to pull the player apart.
Suicide Forest An extremely dense forest of dead trees, with a body hanging by a noose from each tree. The branches of these trees are extremely brittle, and whenever one breaks, the tree screams in agony from an unseen mouth. It is impossible to move through this forest without breaking branches every few feet. And every scream has a chance to attract a hellhound–or worse. (Thank you, Dante Alighieri!)
Acid Lake A titanic creature died here–violently. Only its top half is anywhere to be seen, and it towers above the players like a castle. It appears to have died some time ago, because it has rotted away enough that many bones are visible. Its stomach is completely gone, and from the rotted cavity a wash of green, bubbling acid flowed out to form a lake which deals 1d8+2 damage per round.
The Gods are Not Welcome Anytime a player attempts to cast any good aligned clerical magic (such as Gibbous’ healing spells) demons nearby will sense the intrusion into their realm, and a random encounter will be rolled to appear 1d6 rounds later.
Field of Razorgrass Field of waist-high grass. Any character not wearing armor takes 1d4 damage per square they move through. Characters wearing armor on their legs still take 1d4 damage, but only once per movement.

If anyone has any more environment ideas, I’m eager to hear them.

I think the best way to run this little planar excursion will be to style it like an outdoor dungeon. Instead of using 6 mile hexes, I’ll use 5ft hexes, and the players will need to solve problems in 10 minute turns. I’ll also need to figure out just how much blood they can get from each demon–and how big and bad the demons will get. If they’re not careful, they will probably encounter something severely out of their league, such as a Marileth.

Magical Marvels 7: The Son's Service

At long last, a return to my ongoing series of weapons which appeared in my Ascendant Crusade campaign. When this series left off in February, I posted about The Glare of Vecna. Prior to that I posted Gravewhisper’s Claw, Wallcraft’s Offerings and Kofek’s Tongue. All of those weapons, and now this one as well, were illustrated by my ladyfriend. You should check out more of her art on her DeviantArt page.

WARNING: This post covers material which is significantly darker than what normally appears on this blog. I’m not kidding, this gets very grim.

The Son’s Service
Artifact Kukri

PHYSICAL ATTACKS

(Kukri)(Attack) +5
(Kukri)(Damage) 1d4 + 5 (Slashing)(18-20/x3)

SPELLS GRANTED

4/Day – As a standard action, the wielder can ‘cut’ a door in the air with the blade, creating a Dimensional Door which allows the wielder to instantly travel up to 30ft.

1/Day – The caster can spend 1 minute scratching a door into a stone surface. When the door is completed, stepping through it will cause the effects of a Plane Shift spell for 1 minute. The plane the wielder wishes to travel to must be whispered to the blade before the creation of the door is begun. Anyone can step through the door, even enemies of the caster, so long as they do so within 1 minute of the door’s completion.

1/Week – If the hilt of the blade is held so the eyes of the skull meet the eyes of a helpless opponent, then the wielder may speak the trigger phrase “Love is weakness.” When this is done, a brief light will flash in the skull’s eyes. The victim’s dearest loved one must then succeed on a DC: 14 fortitude save against death. On a successful save, they still take 3d6 pain-based damage. When this happens, the victim will hear their loved one’s cries of pain, and suffers a -6 morale penalty to all rolls for the rest of the day. (This is based off of the Love’s Pain corrupt spell in the D&D 3.0 Book of Vile Darkness)

1/Week – If the hilt of the blade is held so that the skull is pressed against the heart of a victim, then the jaws of the skull will bite into the victim’s breast, tearing away a small bit of flesh. The victim will then immediately drop to -8 HP, and stabilize. No saving throw is allowed against this attack, however if the victim is wearing any kind of armor it is impossible. Making this attack in combat is extremely difficult, and works as a melee attack roll made with a -4 penalty. (No weapon bonuses are included in this attack roll, as the attack is not made with the weapon’s blade.) (This is based off of the Stop Heart spell in the D&D 3.0 Book of Vile Darkness)

SPECIAL ABILITIES

Anarchic Physical attacks against lawful creatures are made at a +2 bonus, and deal an additional 2d6 damage. (Cumulative effect with Goodbane)
Goodbane Physical attacks against good creatures are made at a +2 bonus, and deal an additional 2d6 damage. (Cumulative effect with Anarchic)
Ghost Touch Physical attacks deal normal damage against incorporeal creatures.
Stolen Youth The wielder’s aging is slowed to 1/3rd the normal rate. Any effects which would magically drain the user’s age are only 1/3rd as effective.
Gift of Agony The Intelligence of The Son’s Service suffers constant anguish over the tragedy of its creation. Once per day, it can transfer this pain to a victim through a touch attack, dealing 4d6 damage. If it has been lying dormant for awhile, it may choose to inflict this attack on the first person to pick it up.
Bodysnatcher If the blade is buried into the brain of a corpse, then The Son’s Service gains full control of that body, and any abilities it had in life. The blade’s first impulse will be to escape from its owner, and an ego check must be made to command the weapon to obey. Another ego check must be made if any attempt to remove the blade is made.

INTELLIGENT ITEM ABILITIES

EGO 32; INT 19 (+4) WIS 10 (+4) CHA 19 (+4)
Senses Darkvision 120ft, Blindsense, Hearing; Communication Speech, Telepathy
Languages Common, Abyssal, Vasharan
Alignment Chaotic Evil
Purpose The Son’s Service is a psychopath. It is constantly driven to perform vile, and harmful deeds. Most often directed towards lawful, or good characters. It loves nothing more than to be used as an implement of torture and slaughter.

APPEARANCE

The Son’s Service is a Kukri about 4 and 1/2 feet long from the end of the pommel to the tip of the blade. The entire thing appears to be made of bleached white bones. The hilt is made of a series of vertebrae, which end in a pointed pommel. The hilt of the weapon is a very small skull, and the blade protrudes from the crest of that skull. Upon close inspection, someone familiar with anatomy might recognize the blade as a warped rib-bone, which has been flattened and sharpened. Though normally dark, the eye sockets of the blade occasionally take on a faint glow when the weapon is focusing its attention.

HISTORY

The origins of the blade known as The Son’s Service are as dark and depraved as the master it was crafted to serve: Zalekios Gromar.

After the murder of his father, Zalekios was raised by the succubus, Setya. The demon knew how to feed young Zalekios’ psychopathy, and gleefully encouraged him in his childish pursuits of murder and mayhem. As he grew, Setya artfully crafted her Vasharan son into a weapon. A mortal man with all the rage and power of a demon. When he reached maturity, Setya bore for him twin children. One, a girl, she named Reizalla; destined to succeed Zalekios’ as Setya’s agent of chaos. The other, a boy, was sacrificed in a ritual so vile that it tainted the very air around it. Even centuries later, those who unwittingly stumble into the location where the ritual was performed find themselves choking and coughing as though breathing smoke.

The succubus then used powerful magics to twist and reshape the dead child’s fragile bones into a blade. One so strong it could crack steel. She dubbed the blade “The Son’s Service,” and gave it to Zalekios as a parting gift when he went forth into the world to spread chaos and death. Immediately upon accepting the blade, Zalekios could hear it cursing him in his mind. The weapon hated him with a pure malevolence, the like of which has never existed before or since. If it could, the weapon would destroy the father who cavalierly accepted the corpse of his own son as a gift. But it could not. In fact, the weapon could never take any action, or inaction, which would harm Zalekios. Nor could it even attempt to disobey him–such was the curse of the vile rituals Setya had performed.

Zalekios’ created a path of destruction throughout the world for decades. He murdered children or parents, he schemed to topple kingdoms, he did whatever would cause suffering. And always, The Son’s Service was by his side, opening the wounds which fed Zalekios’ blood soaked path. Were it not for the rancour the blade felt for its master, these would have been the happiest times of its psychopathic existence. Eventually, when Zalekios allied himself with The Whispered Queen, there was much less killing to do. She demanded a greater amount of subtlety from her companions than The Son’s Service would have liked.

Many years passed in the Whispered Queen’s service, and Zalekios grew restless. He chafed at taking orders from a woman he knew he could kill, and viewed her goals of bringing order to the world as perverse. But he could not stand against her. Powerful as he was, he knew how fiercely loyal the Queen’s other companions were. Even he would fall before their combined might. He brought to her a compromise: turn her forces on the Abyss. Let him lead her armies against the demon lord, Graz’zt. Zalekios would usurp the Demon Prince, and claim his throne for himself. Once he was a demon lord, Zalekios could spread chaos throughout the multiverse, and would have no desire to meddle in the affairs of the material plane. Besides–he argued–it couldn’t hurt to have a demon lord as a friend.

The Whispered Queen agreed, and began preparing her forces for a march into the abyss itself. The titanic army overran Graz’zt’s outer defenses, and penetrated deep into the demon lord’s Argent Palace. They reached the center of Graz’zt’s power, and with victory within his grasp, Zalekios charged the demon prince. But The Whispered Queen advanced no further. She and her forces stood in silence as Zalekios and those loyal to him were torn to pieces and devoured by demons.

The Queen had taken Zalekios’ advice to heart. It couldn’t hurt to have a demon lord as a friend.

After Zalekios’ demise, The Son’s Service was given to Reizalla for her part in the betrayal. But she found that the blade hated her for being the surviving twin almost as much as it hated Zalekios for being responsible for its existence. And the weapon was not magically compelled to obey her as it had been for their father. Reizalla traded the weapon to a balor, and ever since it has traded hands from one demon to another. Likely it now resides in the treasure vault of one mighty demon or another, yearning to draw blood once more.

Campaign Art: Gifts of a Wizard, and a Battle against Ogres!

Only a short post today. As I’ve mentioned in the past, two of the members of my current gaming group are artists. This works out pretty great for me, because I regularly get to see my games come to life in cool ways. Such as the above picture.

Currently, my ToKiJaTiMo gaming group has a lot on their minds. They need to kill a dire spider for its eyes, find an entrance to the underdark so they can steal some hair from a drow, track down a spider which is more than a thousand years old so they can nab one of its eggs, investigate a nearby forest where gnolls are mysteriously being transformed into half-ogre monstrosities, hunt down a lich, and make a trip to the Abyss to harvest some demon blood. And some of them haven’t even reached level 2 yet!

In order to facilitate their rather ambitious goals, they traveled across the continent to meet up with their old friend Mahudar Kosopske. The wizard gave the original party members (now level 3) some of their first adventures, and they’ve remained on friendly terms. So when they came to him requesting information and supplies, he was happy to aid them. Even if he did require almost all of their treasure in exchange!

This piece, by the way, is from my rather talented ladyfriend. She’s done a lot of art for Papers & Pencils in the past, and you can see more of her work on her DeviantArt page.

Edit: My ladyfriend is on a roll! This post has not even gone online yet, but she’s already completed another piece based on the same game. Here she depicts a battle earlier in the adventure where the party fought some of those mysterious half-ogre monstrosities. I really love the coloring here, with each of the characters being highlighted in a color which thematically represents their class. Red for the barbarian, green for the ranger, blue for the rogue, yellow for the cleric, and purple for the sorceress.

Introducing New Characters to Your Campaign Milieu

Introducing a new character to an ongoing campaign is always a challenge for me. Maybe it’s because I place too much emphasis on making the game world coherent. I suppose if I wanted, there would be no real problem with introducing new players the same way videos games do when you plug in a new controller. “Player 2 has joined the game.” I don’t actually know if it would bother my players to have new characters suddenly appear as if placed there by the gods. For me it would be jarring; I like the world to feel consistent. I’m curious to know how other GMs handle this.

There are two situations when a GM is typically faced with integrating a new character into the game. Either a new player has joined the game, or a regular player’s character has died and a new one must be introduced.

On the one hand, I don’t think characters should simply appear. Adventurers wandering through a desert should not suddenly find themselves with a new companion by their side. There should be some “in-game” explanation for the character’s appearance, and for the character deciding to join the adventurers. Players wandering through a desert might find their new companion unconscious and dehydrated. Once the party saved the new arrival’s life, the new character could join the party out of gratitude. One of my time honored methods of introducing new characters is to have them enter the game as henchpeople of NPC quest givers. The NPC sends their trusted servant along to ensure success, and once the adventure is over, the character can choose to stay with the party if they please.

On the other hand, players should not be left sitting on their hands while they wait for the rest of the party to find them. They’ve come to your game table to play a game, not watch helplessly as others do so. This is particularly true for new players. Most players will approach a new group with justified trepidation. We’ve all heard horror stories about terrible GMs. Making a new player sit around for fifteen or twenty minutes doing nothing is a good way to end up as one of the subjects of those horror stories yourself.

So, introducing a new character is a balancing act between maintaining a logical world, and keeping players engaged in the game.

Within my last three gaming sessions, I’ve had to introduce two new players into my established gaming group. The first player entered the game just as the party was starting a new adventure. The party had ended the previous session by returning to a lone wizard’s tower with the magical reagent he had asked them to find. They accepted his offer to rest and resupply there, and in the morning as our next session began, he offered them a new quest. He needed a relic retrieved from the depths of a far off dungeon. In travelling there, the party would pass through a small human settlement, and I thought that would be the best place for them to encounter the new half elven rogue who had joined the group. I could even have the wizard tell them that they’d need to hire somebody who could to pick locks when they passed through the town.

Unfortunately, it would take about an hour of gameplay to reach the town, so that was right out. Lacking any better ideas, I simply had the wizard introduce the rogue as “an associate who also recently returned from performing a task for me.” He said the rogue would be helpful, and poof. The party was formed.

I only now find myself thinking that perhaps the game might have been improved by running two concurrent adventures. One where the party was journeying to that town, and another where the rogue player was going through a brief solo adventure in the town. I could switch back and forth between the two parties each ‘day’ of game time. That may be something I need to try in the future.

The very next session, we had another new player join the game. This one was a gnome barbarian, which was a particular challenge. The previous session had ended in a dungeon which, for unrelated reasons, had been magically warded to prevent gnomes from entering it. I wassn’t quite sure how I wanted to handle the issue, because I had gone to great lengths in the previous session to establish that even gnomes of great wealth and power had been unable to find a way to enter. It seemed ridiculous that a level 1 barbarian should be able to make it.

Fortunately, the players had already discovered a room filled with gnomish statues, and confirmed that those statues were actually real gnomes who had been turned to stone. Before the game started, I gave the new player a little background: she was a warrior who had fought beside the gnomish King Teleron against an army of Giants, Ogres, and Orcs. In the battle of Stonefist Peak, she had been magically turned to stone, and she’d spent the last 200 years as a statue.

I thought this was a really elegant solution, but again I was faced with the problem of potentially forcing her to sit the game out while the rest of the party tried to figure out how to break her curse. My original plan had been to make freeing those gnomes a potential long-term goal for the characters, but now I needed a way to do it immediately. So, when the game started, I had the players find a scrap of paper at the bottom of a treasure chest (which they had looted just before we ended the last game) which came from the diary of one of the dungeon’s prisoners. The prisoner’s diary explained that Demon’s Blood (which the players already had on hand) could be used to reverse the spell. They poured the blood on one of the statues, and the new player’s gnome did a happy little flip and shouted “ta da!”

The way I introduced that second character was somewhat more elegant than the way I introduced the first. None the less I had to fudge some stuff around to make it work: finding the diary which wasn’t there before, whichever statue they had poured the blood on would have been the correct character, etc.

How do you handle introducing new characters to your game?

How Saying 'Yes' to your Players Makes GMing Easier

I’ve been working on my time tracking in recent sessions, and as an experiment I included a boss which underwent a transformation as time went on. She was a sorceress named Anyetta the Many Eyed, and she had a peculiar fascination with spiders. That fascination led her to the decision to create a powerful ritual to give herself certain arachnid attributes. If the party encountered her within two hours of entering the dungeon, they would have caught her while she was casting the transformation ritual. Had they fought her, she would have likely been a moderate challenge as a level 3 sorceress against a party of level 1 characters. After the casting of the ritual, there was a 20 minute window of vulnerability while the transformation took place. She would have been immobilized, and easy prey (assuming the party recognized her as a villain). Following the transformation, the sorceress gained a number of powerful abilities that made her into a pretty dangerous encounter for 1st level players.

As it so happened, it took the party about 5 hours of game time to find her. They attempted diplomacy first, but after giving her some information they probably should not have, she attacked. Fortunately for them, the boss turned out to be a glass cannon She managed to nearly one-shot one of the characters, but the rest of them made better reflex saves. Since she was a sorceress it only took a few hits to leave her dead on the floor. There wasn’t even enough time for any giant spiders to come to her aid. The party looted her corpse, which had some of the best treasure I had placed in the dungeon, then began to search the room. They found a lot of strange alchemical stuff they didn’t understand, and a lot of books with notes about how the ritual was performed, but nothing of great value.

Or so their foolish GM thought.

“Hey Phoenix,” the ranger said to the party’s own sorceress. “Do you want to give this ritual a try?”

“Sure, that sounds fun!” the sorceress replied.

From behind the GM screen, I mumbled a quiet “oops!”

There was a time when I would have said no. I would have come up with some reason why it wasn’t possible for the player to make that kind of unconventional leap in power. Maybe I’d indicate that in studying the books the player would learn that Anyetta’s formula was flawed, and that she would have died of natural causes after a week or two. But that’s not how I GM anymore, and I’m not sure why it ever was. Usurping the villain’s plan is exactly the type of thing I would do as a player. It’s honestly thrilling to have players who are as madcap in their approach to the game as I am. So I told the sorceress yes. She would be able to repeat the ritual, but that it would require a great deal of time and preparation to complete.

We ended our session shortly thereafter, with most of the party returning to town to sell their loot (and, incidentally, establish a museum) while the sorceress remained behind to study. A few hours later when I was putting away my folding tables, I began to ponder the next gaming session. For a few days I’d been half-assedly working on an idea for the next adventure. Something to do with dwarves and giants, in which the party would end up in a large dwarven citadel where they could take care of city-things. For a moment I turned my attention to my sorceress’ desire to become a spider-woman. I was just as intrigued by the idea as my players were, but I wasn’t sure how I wanted to handle it. It would be a significant jump in power for the player, once which could unbalance the game in her favor. It also didn’t seem right to simply let her gain the powers after spending a couple weeks casting spells.

That’s when I realized that by allowing my player to pursue an unconventional goal, I was no longer in a position of needing to provide them with an adventure to pursue. They had chosen their adventure: turn the sorceress into a spider woman. Now all I had to do was set the parameters of that adventure. I won’t go into too much detail here, since my players do occasionally read this site, but suffice to say that the task will require the players to go on a number of small side adventure. By the time they’re finally ready to start casting the spell, they’ll have spent somewhere between 3 and 6 sessions on the task, if they’ve remained focused. And while they pursue this goal, they’ll be far more engaged in the game than they ever would be if I was the one trying to create their motivation.

My players are the ones guiding my game now, and I couldn’t be happier that they’ve taken the reigns.

For the record, by the way, this is the template the sorceress is pursuing:

Arachnohominid Template

When a humanoid creature gains the arachnohominid template, six additional eyes grow at even distances from each other around the base creature’s head, and eight large spider legs grow from their back. These legs are large enough that when the creature is standing on them, their humanoid legs will be half of their height off of the ground (about 2.5-3ft for a human). An arachnohominid creature is also able to spin webs through nodules on their fingertips, and control other arachnids to a limited degree.

Unfortunately for the arachnohominid, these alterations are extremely difficult to hide, and are likely to cause fear and mistrust in most of the civilized world.

Type Type changes to Monstrous Humanoid (Do not recalculate Hit Dice, BAB, or saves.)
Senses Darkvision 60ft, +4 to perception checks, considered to be looking in all directions at once. (cannot be “back attacked.”)
Armor Class Natural armor improves by +2
Abilities Strength and Dexterity each improve by +2
Feats The base creature gains Toughness as a bonus feat.
Speed When on the spider legs, the creature’s speed increases to 60ft. The creature can move at this speed even when climbing along walls or ceilings.
Special Abilities

Able to climb on walls or ceilings as though affected by a permanent Spider Climb spell.
Can spin webs to entrap foes. Webs can be placed and hidden, or spun around opponents within 30ft during combat. In the latter case, a reflex save of DC [10 + 1/2 character level + Dex Modifier] allows the creature to avoid the attack. In either case, a DC 20 strength check can break the webs, or any attack which deals 5 damage to the webs (AC: 5, Hardness: 0).
A small, fast moving tendril of web can also be used to deliver touch spells up to 30 ft. The arachnohominid must succeed on a ranged touch attack [1d20 + BAB + Dex Modifier against Touch AC] or the spell fails.
Spiders obey the mental commands of an Arachnohomnid. Larger spiders are entitled to a will save DC [10 + 1/2 Arachnohominid HD + Cha]