In Which The Warlock Blathers on Balance...

As you can imagine from my prior entry, I'm pretty high on Sentinels of the Multiverse right now.  Our Friday Night group has played it for two weekends straight, with FridayNightWill picking up the base game and both expansions!

So enthused, I decided to register on the Greater Than Games forums, where discussion between playtesters and the community at large has really sprung up.  One of the most vociferous and heated arguments thusfar has centered around three heroes:  the mechanic-themed martial artist Mister Fixer, the gunslinging vigilante Expatriette, and the icebound avenger Absolute Zero.  This argument centers on balance:  simply put, Fixer and Expatriette are viewed by many as underpowered, while opinion on Absolute Zero swings drastically between over- and underpowered, depending on who you ask.

Six of one, one of another?
Somehow, a designer has to make it all balance!

Now, there's an interesting conundrum running in the background here.  What, actually, does balance mean? Are two characters balanced if one person can sit down to play each and still have fun?  Each person's definition of fun varies drastically.  I tend to shy away from playing "cleric-type" characters in RPGs, while favoring charismatic, arcanely-powered blasters.  That doesn't mean that a cleric-type is imbalanced while in my hands, though my personal investment in the character may equate to a difference in gameplay.

Does balance imply mechanical equity?  When different mechanics are in play, the very nature of mechanical equity becomes a qualitative assessment.  Is a universal "+2 to damage for one round" buff equal to a power that deals 6 damage?  Thinking mechanically, one might figure that if at least 3 attacks are made using that buff, it would be as good as, if not better than, the single damage power.  But when chance enters the picture--perhaps through SotM's Villain and Environment decks, or through the machinations of a Wicked GameMaster--that simple equation goes out the window.

Absolute Zero, with two of his key pieces of equipment.
Does his reliance on them make him underpowered?
Or do his maxed-out combos make him king of the hill?

What about opportunity cost?  Decision-making certainly comes into play in terms of balance.  Using the aforementioned heroes, Absolute Zero hinges on having several key pieces of equipment out on the board in order to function on a basic level.  Zero's base power does not affect others--it actually damages himself though additional pieces of equipment allow this damage to be magnified and redirected to foes or even used to heal himself.  However, putting these pieces of equipment into play requires several turns of dedicated actions; actions which aren't spent dealing damage, conquering villains, or removing hazards.  This becomes particularly dangerous when many of the villains in SotM have cards that eliminate equipment or remove heroes' cards from play.  However, when fully equipped with his arsenal, Zero can throw down absurd amounts of damage, wiping the field free of minions and laying the hurt on a would-be supervillain.

Mister Fixer, on the other end of the spectrum, has little set-up time and is much less reliant on equipment and cards in play.  Fixer's base power deals damage to a foe:  very straightforward, though at slightly-lower damage than other heroes with similar powers.  Almost every card that Fixer can play adds to his base damage, though many criticize Fixer's deck for being repetitive--a large proportion of his deck consists of martial arts styles or "tools", each of which Fixer may only have one in play at a time.  In turn, this repetition limits his overall maximum damage, resulting in a lower maximum than other damage-dealing heroes, even as his damage requires less set-up and is more "consistent".

Is simplicity power or weakness?
This is getting a little Zen...

Does Fixer's lack of complexity imply that he's less powerful than Absolute Zero?  Does Fixer's speed of play mean he's more powerful than Zero?  What about his limited options?  Does Fixer's limited damage mean he's less powerful?  Does Zero's complexity and length of set up make him underpowered, or does his optimal upper-range combo push him into overpowered?

Answers to questions like these don't come easily in game development.  Savage Worlds attempted to quantify its racial abilities, putting them on a +/-2 point scale.  However, even when quantified in this way, imbalances still arrive.  Is the ability to breathe underwater equal to a free d8 in Vigor?  Is a free choice of Edge equal to a +2 bonus to get out of Shaken?  Who knows?  

This sort of question has recently arisen with a vengeance, as we've been moving ahead with Cold Steel Wardens revisions.  While metahuman powers seem to be in a good place and the base skills are solid, CSW's Masteries have been somewhat on the weak side.  Masteries are intended to allow additional uses of skills--using the Scientific skill for the purposes of computer hacking or using Athletics as an active defense, tumbling away from enemies.  However, in many cases, they fell into the ongoing issue of providing additional skill dice, given a particular situation.  That's not 'fun'.  That's not 'interesting'.  As such, we're going back to the board with them.

And that's not a bad thing!  We're still locked and loaded to hit our deadlines, with layout samples and art pieces coming in throughout the month.  I'm devoted to putting forward a great game, and I don't intend on being complacent in ensuring that the best possible Iron Age comics game hits the shelves.  We forge on, friends and neighbors!

In Which The Warlock Peruses the Perfect Party...

For those of you that were hoping for more cross-blog shenanigans, never fear:  it's just The Journeyman GM's turn to host our info.  This time around, we take a look at one of his games--his Deadlands "Heart of Darkness" conversion!

In the meanwhile, I wanted to spend a little time talking about a recent game that really blew me away, which is only more fitting considering the time of year!

I'm talking, of course, about the PlatinumChick's Call of Cthulhu game, "Welcome to Zendik Farms", which I ran for the first time this past Friday for the WittKids.  I've spent quite a while running over-the-top steampunk action in Deadlands, and it had felt like ages since I'd actually run a true 'horror' session.  Upon arriving, the PlatinumChick and I found ourselves with no less than 11 players--more than enough for two full tables.

I've got to say, though:  I think I ended up the beneficiary of that division, though.  My table was nothing short of immaculate, with a series of spectacular role-players who bought into the nihilistic, cult-driven storyline like none other.

If you haven't played the PlatinumChick's "...Zendik Farms" scenario before, you're missing out.  Based on an actual real-life cult (from which people have actually escaped!), the scenario seems simple on the surface:  characters start on what seems like a relaxing excursion to an organic arts community.  But, the plot delves into deeper secrets and horrors, the longer that the investigators stay.  No session ever truly plays the same way twice, as the farm itself provides a mini-sandbox for the investigators to play through.

So, let's talk a little about my players.  I was excited to have Lindevi (also known as DigitalKat) on board, as she was aching to play in horror game as much as I had been aching to run one.  She's well known my capacity for Wicked GMing, having played in my Deadlands "Follow the Walkin' Man" campaign as well as a Ravenloft one-shot I'd run years ago:  "An Incident at Ravencroft Asylum".  Lindevi was coupled by a familiar face from our Friday night sessions, Chris I!

I knew these guys could role-play.  I see it on a regular basis, as they delve into deep character interactions and difficult moral choices.  What I didn't know was how much the other three would get into it--two WittKids and a community member totally new to the Guild, LatinJoseph.  The three of them played their parts to the hilt, with WittDrew even converting to the Zendik cult partway through the scenario!  The stark looks of horror on the others' faces as their comrade willingly started going along with the farm's plans was priceless--you can't script emotional responses like that!

The segment of the game that struck me most, though, was the willingness for players to put themselves in vulnerable positions.  Characters continually committed that "cardinal sin" of splitting the party again and again, even isolating themselves with members of the cult.  LatinJoseph astounded me, leaving his traumatized college activist alone with Zendik scion Fawn, all the while under the effects of various psychotropic drugs.

I've posited before that the social contracts inherent to role-playing games are fundamentally a variation on the same relationships and contracts held between dominant and submissive members of a BDSM-style relationship.  I've been doing quite a bit of research into this concept, actually, in the hopes to expand my theory into an essay suitable for my upcoming Pendulum Method compilation.  LatinJoseph showed his flexibility and versatility in storytelling by allowing his character to submit to the given plot element:  the psychopathic Fawn.  His metaphorical submission allowed for fantastic role-play opportunities in that his own character slowly came out of their psychotropic haze (which he portrayed spectacularly!) but also for Lindevi, whose then-insane investigative reporter did her best to save LatinJoseph's college student!  By relinquishing a degree of control in the scene, that narrative power was magnified and spread out through my own NPCs, Lindevi's character, and even through himself!

It's okay to give up control
once in a while!  Cut loose!

Throughout the course of the game, the role of 'dominant' was passed back and forth between players and Keeper almost seamlessly.  Lindevi herself took the reins when a horrific event caused her reporter to lose a significant amount of Sanity, leading her to take WittSean's character hostage!  WittSean rolled perfectly with the scene, mentally handing over control of the scene to Lindevi.  Later on, Chris I's housewife stole the show, overturning tables in a desperate, last-gasp stand against the Zendik faithful.  However, the narrative power swiftly changed hands to WittSean's crisis of conscience:  does he betray his 'innocent' friends or does he believe the idyllic truth put forward by Wulf Zendik?

It's that sort of continued, extensive power exchange that takes an average table and makes it a good one or, in the case of this group, takes a good group of players and pushes them into an evening of phenomenal gaming.  This group's ability to build opportunities for one another through narrative power exchange allowed them to achieve some of the best table-based role-play I've ever seen.  When we staggered out of our room in Shouvlin at nearly 12:30 that morning, the group was worn, beaten down, and thoroughly smiling.  And, after a long session of dominance and submission, that's about all you ever want...

In Which The Warlock Picks Nits...

Having a "real job" does have its perks.  While I'm still up to my eyeballs, between grading, planning, writing papers for online classes, and the struggles to finish out Cold Steel Wardens, the best perk of having a real job is undoubtedly the cash...which, in gaming terms, means gaming swag!

Since graduating and entering the workforce, there's hardly a doubt that my gaming library has increased.  It's overflowing our game room shelves, to the point where we swiftly need to rearrange our collection!  That said, I do try to be judicious in my spending--after all, there's only so much that one can spend on gaming!  I check out reviews on RPG.net, and try to read sample chapters or previews before I actually make a purchase.

But, even among the best of gamebooks out there, there are certain nitpicks that just drive me up a wall:

No Index!

Oh, man!  This one's an unforgivable sin.  You see, a game manual--particularly a core-rulebook--is, in essence, a reference book.  While full of flavor text, fiction, and setting material, a well-written game manual should make it easy to find information quickly and easily.  Indexes make character creation easier, rules referencing swifter, and overall organization more...well, organized!  With this age of print-on-demand and numerous print utilities, it's easier than ever to include an index any work.

Heroes Unlimited, the old warhorse that brought me into the gaming in the first place, is the biggest offender on my shelf in this regard.  While the Palladium rules set overall is messy enough, the lack of an index makes the rules almost impossible to navigate swiftly during a game session.  Situational rules become hard to find, which slows down the pace of a game.  A simple index could easily solve the problem, but such isn't the case.

Bad Font Choices!

Cursive!  Curse you!

As I'm learning, fonts are an incredibly powerful thing.  In choosing fonts for Cold Steel Wardens, I've been trying to find ones that exude a gritty, urban feel but are still legible and easy to read.  Fonts have a tendency to inspire irrational rage in certain people--just see the crusade against Comic Sans!

In this case, All For One: Regime Diabolique was the biggest offender for me.  While fancy cursive calligraphy perfectly fits the Musketeer-milieu, the cursive font chosen for chapter sub-headings came out gritty and grainy, making those sub-headings difficult to read, and impossible to discern at a glance.  I can't imagine how these headings look in PDF format--it certainly can't be legible!



Uber-NPCs!

NPCs are important.  We all know this.  I have a massive chapter in CSW devoted solely to populating the world and giving unique hooks and elements to base campaign sessions around.  That said, NPCs are there to provide opportunities for PC interaction.  They may be major players, yes, but they should never be the most major.

As much as I love it, Deadlands is a big offender here.  While significantly toned down in the Reloaded version, the Classic Deadlands rules made major NPCs into invincible killing machines with literally every power and skill in the book.  Worst of all was the time-jumping Jackie Wells, whom The Journeyman GM railed against in his sessions of the "Heart of Darkness" trilogy.  On the plus side, though, the current rules at let you destroy those NPCs in the Plot Point campaigns!

Kitchen Sink Gaming!

Great system.  Great setting.
Can't say that I cared for them together...

I'm a big believer in mechanics supporting a specific method of play.  While generic systems are neat and viable for some things, I find that they tend to leave the flavor of the game in the hands of the GM, rather than bringing it to the table through mechanics.  For example, Savage Worlds makes for great pulp games and, with its gambling and poker elements, fits the Weird West of Deadlands.  But, after reading through both Realms of Cthulhu and the Horror Companion, I'm more and more convinced that I never want to run a true horror game with Savage Worlds--the game simply isn't built around that concept, especially when games like Dread or Call of Cthulhu are available.  You can surely hammer a nail with a wrench, but wouldn't a hammer be easier?

The d20 glut was a huge offender here, but it's Mutants and Masterminds that gets my goat the most.  While I respect the game greatly--and, for Justice League or Avengers-style adventures, it can work very well--every time I've played M&M, I find that the rules just add nothing to the experience.  That, in my eyes, is a problem, but it's one I intend to fix...


Okay, so this post was a touch negative.  Next time out, let's take a look at some of my favorite schemes in game design!

In Which The Warlock Contemplates a Class Change...

One of the neatest things about my real-life day-job is the amount of carryover between being a good GM and being a good teacher.  Believe it or not, the best practices that one carries behind the GM screen often are the same best practices advocated within a classroom setting.  Engagement, active description, differentiation, and varied methodology are all buzzwords that frequently flit about the classroom, but they similarly have a great degree of importance at the game table as well.

As such, game design and game management theory have become a fairly regular part of my curriculum, in terms of addressing macro-educational concepts.

Case in point:  my early days of teaching, at a local charter school.  Paired with an experienced social studies teacher, we often crossed over Risk and Monopoly games to demonstrate the relationship between economics and military strategy.  Students arrange into teams, which must co-ordinate their efforts between both boards, in the hopes to take over a certain set of territories.

You want a GMing challenge?
Try running this for a classroom of ADHD students!

It's at that same school that I experienced the ultimate challenging in GameMastery.  You see, that charter school focused specifically in educating students with ADHD and Asperger's Syndrome, with the majority of the population having multiple diagnoses.  However, as an experiential introduction to a science-fiction unit, I decided to run a simplified session of Paranoia for those students.  And, let me tell you:  there is NO greater challenge in GMing than running game for 16 ADHD teenagers.

However, the challenge of keeping all 16 students engaged and interested, coupled with the greater conceptual goal of addressing paranoia and fear of the "other" as a literary concept, made for a great lesson plan, which students were able to expand upon through essays and a larger assessment project.  I did something similar with a homemade game I called "Grail Quest"--no relation to the actual game-book series--in which students emulated roving bands of knights hoping to find various Arthurian relics, including the eponymous Holy Grail.

An ancient gameboard...
...but one perfect for The Crusades!

This all lead to today, wherein I got to use a game that I've been aching to pull out in a classroom setting:  Risk: Godstorm.  Using the board from Godstorm, groups of my seniors attempted to retake the Holy Land, following the Crusader rhetoric of Pope Urban II.  The activity ran fast and furious, with alliances taking shape over both ideological and political lines--precisely what I was hoping for!  The game ran smoothly, even though time limited us to a 30 minute rushed version of the rules.

As I've been working on expanding The Pendulum Method--y'know, when I'm not teaching, gaming, writing on Cold Steel Wardens, or doing any number of other multitasking--I've been looking seriously at including an essay on this very topic:  the use of educational theory in gamemastery.  Should be fun, children! I'm hoping for it to be out this year or next!

Oh, and this weekend?  We wrap up "The Flood"!  Water's gonna rise, children!

In Which The Warlock Makes a Major Alteration...

So, let's talk about something that I haven't brought up in quite a while:  Dungeon Slam!

I've occasionally broken out DS! now and again in the last year or so, but I haven't exactly been doing a whole lot of substantial revision on it.  The biggest issue keeping DS! from being a "real game" is the run-time:  I can't seem to get it under two hours without making major changes to the game mechanics and the way that chance is involved with the game itself.

Risk--has anyone finished that game?

That's a major problem, because few games run longer than two hours while maintaining an element of fun.  Ask yourself, when was the last time that you played a game of Risk for more than two hours, before the novelty of Risk wore off and a clear winner was evident, and everyone else worked to stave off that winner for an extra hour or so.  Don't get me wrong:  Risk can be fun, but it often takes so long to play that few manage to ever complete that game.



A session of Dungeon Slam!
from Origins 2008.

Similarly, Dungeon Slam! also suffered from a pretty major issue that many rpgs also suffer from:  Contested Roll Syndrome.  Contested rolls--also called opposed rolls or contests--have a propensity to slow games down immensely, as they make every chanced encounter (which are fairly common, natch!) into a minimum of two dice rolls, rather than one.

Imagine, if you will, a "static" system like Savage Worlds or even d20.  Each dice roll is compared against a number, which varies based on the difficulty of a task.  Modifiers are then made based on the circumstances facing the situation and the person acting within it.  However, in a system based on contested rolls--such as Dungeon Slam! as well as Marvel Heroic Roleplaying and several other games--that static modifier is replaced by another roll, on the act-ee's part.

While you'd figure that this wouldn't slow down the game too much, once you start adding in modifiers, re-rolls, and other chance-altering mechanics common to most games, the game slows down to a crawl, which brings us back to the core problems with Dungeon Slam!.  It simply takes too freaking long.

But, with its numerous problems and several competitors on the market--Super Dungeon Explore, Munchkin Quest, and Dungeon Run come immediately to mind--I've decided to put Dungeon Slam! on the shelf indefinitely.

That said, writing Dungeon Slam! hasn't been a waste in any sense of the word.  In fact, I learned a lot from the act of writing it--particularly in how to structure a game and how to format a prototype for Publisher and Adobe.  And, there's a lot I can take from the best elements of Dungeon Slam!...

• The PvP race structure.
• The item upgrades mechanic.
• The open-board motion.
• The ability to actively screw your neighbor without specifically engaging them.
• The fundamental stats and mechanics (minus the opposed rolls).

And, friends and neighbors, that's just what I've been doing for the past two weeks.  I've been reformatting the best bits and piecees of Dungeon Slam! into a new game with a new genre and idiom...

...but to see the fruits of my labors, you'll have to tune in for the next entry!

In Which The Warlock Mulls Analysis Paralysis...

We have something of a running joke in amongst my gaming/social circle:  the "Karl-o-meter".  You see, my good friend ChaoticKarl tends to take his sweet time when we're playing board games.  Karl's a very mathematical fellow, and (despite my monniker for him) likes to use logic in his moves...which doesn't always work, once the highly unpredictable human element is factored in.  It reached a point once where we literally forced Karl to use an egg timer on his turns, automatically moving on if he hadn't moved before the timer ran out.

The thing that held Karl up so often usually was the sheer number of choices in a game.  Do I move move my piece here or there?  Do I build up this skill/tech-tree or another?  Do I hold my resources?  Do I trade?  Do I purchase now?  Do I use the power-up or save it for later? 

Opportunity cost is a funny thing.  It's so fundamentally critical to game theory and the formation of a good game, but the inclusion of additional opportunities seem to increase the complexity in an almost exponential manner.

Look at all the fiddly-bits! 
So many options!  So many choices!
So much...reading.  :(

It makes me wonder, similarly, about the amount of opportunities in role-playing games today.  The so-called "Old-School Renaissance" has been advocating a return to simpler rules-sets--no power cards, no fiddly-bits, no gimmicks or the like--as a return to "real" role-playing.  Simultaneously, though, we've seen the rise of high-complexity, high fiddly-bit games like 4e D&D and Warhammer Fantasy. 

In some ways, I can equate it to this:

When 4e just came out and your 2nd level Fighter, "The Mighty Jim-Bob," leveled up, he had approximately four options for his 3rd level encounter power.  After a few months, Martial Power came out, doubling those options.  After another month, a Dragon article raised your options to 10.  After four years of sourcebooks, articles, and fan-creations...well, you can imagine the choices!

More options can be good, but each decision--meaningful or not!--slows down gameplay and character creation on a massive scale.  The more options one has in front of them, the more likely that they'll consider each of those options, grinding the game to a halt.

Now, here's the weird thing.  The answer seems to be...less options!

You see, when you take away the power options, the feat choices, the skill points and the rest...you're left with pure imagination.  Now, that's a double-edged sword, since it relies on both player and GM to fill in the details each and every time which, needless to say, is an onerous task!

Minimalist, indeed!

Call of Cthulhu may, in fact, be a perfect example of this minimalist economy.  There are no rules for how many actions a character gets in a round, no power choices, no feats....simply a player saying "I do X" and a GM adjucating that action, occasionally using a handful of abstract stats or skills.  But, for all its wonderful storytelling capacity, a good Call of Cthulhu game hinges on its players buying into the mood and atmosphere created by the GM's narration.  Without a willingness to experiment in a "box-less environment," the game quickly becomes a matter of going through the motions or, more likely, simply falls apart.

As with all things, balance seems to be key.  As a designer, how does one find the balance between over-designing a system, making it overly complex, and under-designing that same system, resulting in vagueness and lack of structure?! 

How does one avoid the dreaded Kotov Syndrome?!

In Which the Warlock Contemplates Game Against Story...

Okay, fellow gamers.   Bear with me for a tick, once more, as I do some rambling.

The games that I tend to enjoy stem from a fairly diverse number of systems and fundamental game theories.  But, the systems that I tend to favor most recently all have one major thing in common:  the ability to manipulate and even to defeat luck.



The Copper Pot collects some fate...

In WEGS, every Ark comes ready-equipped with a number of Spoints, which can be used on nearly any percentage roll in the game, and even on some non-percentage rolls.  It's entirely possible--and sometimes more than desirable!--to use Spoints to achieve a percentage-chance of success that exceeds 100%.  While this all but guarantees success--barring a really horrible Bad Shot or a Wicked Failure--luck has effectively been removed from the equation.  The spell goes off, the sword strikes true.

In Savage Worlds and its numerous settings, every hero comes equipped with Bennies (or, Fate Chips, if you're playing Deadlands), which can turn a seemingly lethal blow into a near miss, or allow for complete and total re-rolls on skills.  In ICONS, heroes get Determination, which allows them to create power stunts, achieve massive levels of success (regardless of dice roll), and even "retcon" details in a scene, changing the narrative.

Not all games include such a system.  Aside from a brief flirtation with them in Eberron, D&D has never used such a mechanics.  Action points in 4e rarely grant anything but an extra action.  Call of Cthulhu and other "atmospheric" games don't use such a mechanic.

So, as I continue working on Cold Steel Wardens, a major question arises.  Do I put such a mechanic into the game, or do I "let the dice fall where they may"?

Representation of GNS Theory

I believe that the rub lies in what's referred to within game design circles as GNS Theory or, later, The Big Model.  Ron Edwards--creator of the Sorcerer RPG--created this theory as an ongoing set of theory regarding social interactions through role-playing games.  It's been one of the longest running controversies within game design circles since Edwards came up with the idea, but for me at least, Edwards' ideas run true.  Edwards claimed that players (and the games that they prefer) typically would fall within a given category--Gamist, Narrativist, or Simulationist.

My main impetus in creating Cold Steel Wardens echoes a fundamentally Simulationist.  As a representation of the Iron Age of Comics, CSW is built to emulate a certain era of comics, including all of the conceits and hallmarks of that era.  As I told ChaoticFrederick--whose commentary and revisions have been invaluable as I've moved forward!--I expect there to be ninjas, I expect there to be lots of guns, and I expect there to be mafia bosses.  Those are all stereotypes that are hallmarks of the Iron Age of Comics, for better or worse, and they tend to appear quite often.

However, I have a strong desire towards specific Narrativist goals.  The system for Aspects, Motivations, and Stances--which I'm about 2/3 of the way through!--encourages players to test their Hero's assumptions about ethics and morality.  While this stems from such storylines like Miller's Daredevil: Born Again and O'Neil's run on The Question, it's a fundamentally Narrativist idea.  Further, the investigative nature of the material itself lends itself towards storytelling, on the player level, the GM level, and the table-wide level.

However, the mechanics of CSW also provide for a degree of system mastery and "optimal build", which are hallmarks of the Gamist idea.  There's a strong desire for me, as a designer and as a gamer, to try to build "The World's Greatest Detective" or "The Martial Arts Master" in this system.  And, as with nearly every system out there, I've spent more than my share of time dealing with combat at this point--the "throne room" of the Gamist player.  Plus, the ideas that I've been kicking about, regarding a system for in-depth investigation, are solidly gamist--it's a matter of how well the Heroes can access the clues, and how well the Players can put them together.

So, where does this leave us?  Well, with the Hero Pool.  This is to say, the fate-defying mechanic I'm debating building into Cold Steel Wardens.  It's a simple mechanic--a pool of d8s equal to twice the number of players, which can be used to add to any test.  They're one use only--once they're gone, they're gone, unless the GM refreshes them (usually by challenging the PCs in underhanded ways). 

One might say that it's a fundamentally Gamist mechanic--it's something built in to defeat luck, and can be exploited.  It doesn't add much to the story, says the Gamist, but it lets us hit once in a while.  The Narrativist would probably disagree, adding that it adds more creative control to the minds of the players, and allows the Heroes to add in that "last-ditch effort" on a test that really requires a success.  A Simultationist might decry such a mechanic, due to lack of "realism", but simultaneously uphold it as a fitting representation of the genre. 

So, again, where does this leave us?  I'm not really sure.  I wouldn't be so arrogant thusfar as to say that CSW is going to be the mystical Zen-center of the GNS spectrum, but it's raised quite a few questions in my mind, as to where CSW is going.  Let's see how playtest rolls out, and we'll go from there...

A few links for you, in case you're curious:

• The Forge--Articles (Some quality viewpoints on GNS/Big Model Theory)
• "System Does Matter"--Ron Edwards' view on system choice.
• More on "The Threefold Model"--GNS Theory FAQs, included.

In Which The Warlock Takes Issue with the Old School...

I've often stated that I tend to straddle the fence between the feel and conventions of old-school gaming and the streamlined, unique mechanics of more modern games.  I tend to find bits and pieces of various games that I like, then toss them into other systems if I need a mechanic to fit a unique situation.  Players around my table often end up tossing WEGSified Cold Rolls and INI rolls in the midst of my D&D games, and I use Savage Worlds style initiative when playing ICONS. 

I don't have much real affinity for the mechanics of the original versions of D&D, and have been a fan of the mechanical innovations that both 3e and 4e have brought to the table.  With a healthy dose of skepticism, I've felt that much of the "Old School Revolution" is a matter of nostalgia--it's an attempt by gamers to recapture some misperceived "glory days" of gaming, when in all actuality, they're wanting simply that feeling of novelty that comes with the first time fighting a dragon, the first time crawling through a dungeon, the first time they pick up a Sword of Sharpness.

Mythmere Press's
"Swords and Wizardry"

So, up late last night and poking around online, I stumbled across an essay that frustrated me greatly.  Two years ago, Matthew Finch of Mythmere Games put forward The Quick Primer for Old School Gaming as a "newbie primer" for old school games.  And, I've gotta say...most of what he's putting forward is biased in a manner that's damaging to all games, reflecting an aura of nostalgia that's cancerous to the idea of an 'evolving' game.

Finch attempts to put forward a veneer of civility, by putting forward a disclaimer before his 4 Zen Moments, stating that the examples he intends to use are hyperbole.  But, the fundamental ideas being put forward are still unchecked swings with no focus.


Let's take his first example:  a Pit Trap, shown in a monotonous "modern style", and then a zesty, descriptive "old style".  The peril here is that of a logical fallacy:  either you narrate your way through the trap entirely (the "good" result) or you let it come down to a series of die rolls (the "bad" way).  No middle ground is mentioned or described.  A good GM or player can describe a unique trap disarmament in 4e, just as easily as a poor GM can let that same trap become an uninteresting series of die rolls in 1e.

Holy logical fallacy, Batman!

Further, the insinuation is misleading--more modern incarnations of D&D  and other games have included the same fundamental determination charts, but the mechanics of that determination are the elements currently evolving.  Earlier editions didn't change because there was or was not a trap-disarming chart; rather, they just changed the mechanics of doing so.  Instead of consulting Sub-Table 43d (which wasn't fun for anyone), Trapfinding was streamlined to a "Thievery" check.  That doesn't preclude or eliminate narration; it simply puts a different structure to it.

Finch continues, extolling the virtue of player skill over character abilities.  He decries skills such as Bluff and Spot as cop-outs, provided in-lieu of asking questions and providing a narrative between GM and Player.  That's a wonderful ideal, but it's just that...an ideal.  If you locked me in a dungeon room and told me that there was a secret door somewhere, I'm sure I could spend hours on end looking for it and never find it.  However, when that room is only being described to me, we're already in the realm of abstraction.  Expecting a player to search through rooms like that, time after time, not only borders on un-fun, but teeters towards GM-narcissism and unnecessary bookkeeping.  We end up sacrificing story and action for a focus on minutiae, when a balance of description and abstraction would serve better.

If what matters is the story, why are we putting additional obstacles towards telling it?

Finch further encourages the GM to throw balance out the window, and focus on the heroes as humanized figures.  Again, I find fault with this:  the fundamental idea behind a storytelling game is just that:  tell a story and be fun.  As I've ranted about earlier, sitting behind the fighter while you're out of spells is un-fun.  Playing the second-fiddle bodyguard to a powerful mage is un-fun.  Dragging 15 wild dogs through the dungeon with you, just so you can manage to survive a kobold skirmish is un-fun.  Yes, challenge is necessary, even vital--conflict is at the heart of any story.  But this?  This is excess.

Finch offers some quality GM advice at the end of his essay, particularly in his encouragement to add description to combat.  But, what he fails to take into account is that games like 4e already work to build this in.  A simple at-will power like Tide of Iron comes with pre-built descriptors, waiting for the GM or player to take advantage of them: 

How about this:  "You slam your shield into your foe's chest, driving him backwards." 
No shield?  No problem:  "You slash at your enemy's legs, then kick upwards, pushing him back a step."

Just because there are minis on the battlemat or power-cards in hand does not mean that narration becomes impossible or unlikely.  In fact, those are the hallmarks of good GMing.  But the fact that Finch ascribes these features only to old-school games is troubling, particularly when so many new games encourage this sort of behavior.

Since I've been on a Deadlands kick, it behooves me to bring up Savage Worlds.  The powers in Savage Worlds are specifically made to be generic and multi-purpose, with the player and GM coming to consensus on what exactly a "Bolt" looks like, and what effect it has. 

Even within the scope of the setting, I just yesterday put together a Deadlands Huckster specifically meant to defy traditional perceptions:  rather than visualize his Dealing with the Devil as a card game, he visualizes it as a fencing match.  Rather than cards appearing in his hand, he uses a Relic saber as an arcane focus, enhancing his spellcasting abilities.  Rather than a gambler, he's a student of the Destreza school of fencing, which was based around Greek philosophy and geometry.  All this, from just a simple series of generically-labeled powers:  Bolt, Quickness, Deflection, Smite, and Boost/Lower Trait.

Simply by adding description, even a decidedly modern and generic game like Savage Worlds brings forth creative, new ideas.  While Finch offers some good advice in his primer, his targeting is woefully off.  The problem doesn't lie with old-school vs. new-school gaming.  The problem lies with lazy GMs and players, unwilling to add in their own creative touches.  And those additions, my lovelies, are what takes a game from good to great.

In Which The Warlock Continues to Muse on Skills...

I wanted to continue the discussion on skills/powers use into this week's entry, as I find myself looking at something very old, to come up with something very new.

Play this game!  Why aren't you playing it yet?!

You see, friends and neighbors, I've been playing Chrono Trigger again.  Now that it's out on the Wii Virtual Console, and the school year's been winding down, I've actually found some time to sit down and enjoy one of the true classics of console RPGs.  What?  You haven't played this yet?  Seriously, if that's the case, shut down the browser, go buy a PS1/DS/Wii and play this game--you owe that much to yourself.



One of the neatest things about Chrono Trigger was its Tech/Combo system.  While each character had a list of 9 or 10 skills they could access--ranging from magic or physical attacks, to healing and buff skills, to more situational skills--these skills could be combined for greater, more powerful effect.

Case in point:  Crono, the main character, gets a basic sword attack called SpinCut.  By itself, it typically deals twice as much as a normal attack, with a better chance of landing.  However, when combined with Lucca's Fire attack, you could access FireSword:  Lucca lights Crono's sword aflame before he strikes, dealing a signficantly larger amount of damage than either SpinCut or Fire alone.  In order to do so, you needed only have Crono and Lucca act together, rather than separately, and ensure that you had enough magic points to fuel both Techs.

These Double and even Triple Techs ran through all 7 major characters, ranging from the lowly, yet effective X-Strike (Crono and Frog, available at level 7 or so), all the way up to the mighty Triple Raid (Crono, Frog, and Robo, available around level 25ish).  The more powerful the individual techs, the more impressive the overall result. 

In all of my years of gaming, I've never managed to come across a single system that allowed for the combining of abilities like Chrono Trigger.  Admittedly, the bounds of player imagination are difficult to balance, but a good GM can self-balance by apply continual threat.  After all, how can Marle manage to pull off IceSword 2 with Crono, if she's busy casting Haste and Cure 2?  A Double or Triple Tech is meant to be a spectacular attack, unleashed at pivotal points.  Perhaps limit it through Action Point usage, or though a Power Point system similar to the psionics rules?

While this would take a ton of work, in some regards, allowing players to come up with their own Techs and Combos between Encounter and Daily powers would allow for some really neat buy-in from players and some intreguing creative results.  After all, who wouldn't want to perform the classic "Fastball Special" made famous by Wolverine and Colossus?

The "Fastball Special"

Okay, truth in blogging:  I did have some players try this once.  In a near-epic level mini-campaign I ran, the players fought an evil druid creature in the roots of Yggdrasil.  The infamous Nick, playing a necromancer, raised one of the druid's henchmen--a dire wolverine--from the dead, while EEE's artificer instructed his contruct minion to pick it up and throw it at the druid.  Who knew, friends and neighbors, that an undead dire wolverine weighed as much as a VW bug?!

Again, it's not likely to see this sort of thing come into play any time soon, but a gamer can dream, can't he?

In Which The Warlock Needs Larzuk to Socket his Weapon...

One of the biggest attractions for me in terms of 4e D&D is the varied and unique nature of the power system.  When nearly every class gets new Encounter and Daily powers at various levels, one would think it would become hard to itemize all of the different bonuses, cookies, and wound dice that get tossed around between powers. 

To be honest, for all of the flak that they take (from yours truly, even), the guys at Wizards of the Coast have done a pretty solid job of both keeping things balanced and in maintaining the flavor of each class.  A fighter gets powers that mark and punish enemies for moving away.  A paladin, while in the same role, gets more healing and buff cookies, and deals a lot more radiant damage--fitting, for a holy warrior.

But, there are other good ideas out there, too...what say we come up with some creative plagiarism, shall we?

A game that I've been slowly, agonizingly anticipating is Blizzard's upcoming Diablo III.  Yes, friends, I was a DII junkie--I still have a level 70-something Holy Shock paladin around here somewhere, decked out in uniques and rares.  Last night, though, Blizzard debuted some new videos demonstrating a new mechanic to Diablo III:  that of skill-based runestones.  You can check out the full series of videos here (Diablo III--Runestones)  to get an idea of how this works.

Diablo III's Witch Doctor casts an Acid Cloud

Essentially, each type of runestone changes trappings and effects of the skill.  While remaining mechanically similar--in each case, the Acid Cloud deals ongoing damage acid damage, followed by an additional, smaller effect--the change in the cookies makes all the difference.  One rune changes the skill to a puked-out cone of acid, while another turns it into an immediate burst, stemming from an exploding corpse!  While in all cases, those cookies are still a tasty delicious treat, it's like replacing your chocolate chip with white chocolate and cranberries!

Imagine, my lovelies, if D&D could manage to work this way!  Rather than taking a set Encounter power at each level, you could instead assemble your own from a table.  The runestones in Diablo III are separated into seven tiers of quality...much like D&D has Encounter powers at levels 1-3-7-13-17-23-27.  Let's say that, for example, you're building a level 1 Wizard.  You might start with a base level 1 Encounter power that deals 1d8 damage of a specific type...call it lightning, for the time being.

Then, you'd get to pick a an option or two from a table of choices, based on what you'd like that power to do.  Among other things, perhaps you could:

• Push X squares.
• Daze the enemy
• Deal an extra d8 damage.
• Make the attack into an Area Burst 1 or a Close Blast 3.
• Slow the enemy.
• Attack two creatures, rather than one.

In each case, no two powers would look alike!  You could easily start off with a "Chain Lightning" type spell that attacks two creatures, dazing them, or turn the spell into a more druidic "Call Lightning", calling down a column of lightning from the heavens in a burst, knocking enemies backwards.  Two spells, relatively equivalent in power, that come from the same pool...and the options are left in the hands of the player.

At higher levels, you'd get more "sockets" that you could use for customizing your powers, as well as be able to pick from "better" tables.  You'd still be able to pick from lower tables, but would be able to name, customize and prioritize your powers based on what you want!  Naturally, the table should be customized for each "archetype"--a rogue-type would probably have to make a much more significant investment to be able to teleport than a mage-type would, simply because it's out of their purview. 

While I really love this idea for its customizability and its flexibility, I can't imagine ever seeing something like this take effect.  It's simply too flexible, too individualized to fit into tournament-style or "sanctioned" play.  Unless there were a way to standardize the selection process--which a good solid Character Builder could do, but I don't think that's going to happen anytime soon--it'd be too difficult to implement.

But, maybe...someday...

In Which The Warlock Continues a Tirade...

Quite a few posts ago, I found myself more than a little outraged at the words of one of the admired grognards of D&D--Mr. Mike Mearls.  Okay, outraged is a little much, but his "Legends and Lore" column, on the Wizards of the Coast site got me a little bit riled.  And, of course, here we are, several weeks later, and I'm still more than a little peeved.

Mearls! *shakes fist*



The last two of Mearls' columns have dealt with game balance (found here: Balance of Power, and here: Fighters vs. Wizards), which is a pretty massive issue, all around.  Most games want to be considered 'balanced', and I have yet to come across a gamer who doesn't want a degree of balance in their game.  Balance, in this sense, doesn't necessarily mean that things should be on the same exact level, but rather that things are relatively equal in comparison to one another, in this case, the various classes.  Considering that, by and large, we're dealing with qualitative analysis here--I'll let the Munchkins out there argue over feat choices for max DPR--this is obviously subjective material.

Mearls' presentation is fallacious from the very start.  He references 1st edition D&D as a paragon of a sliding scale, in which a Fighter (Fighting Man?  Warrior?  Call it whatever you want...he's still a guy with a sword) is essentially like playing on "easy mode" for the entry levels.  "You had more hit points, better AC, access to weapons," Mearls says, "...when it came time to use the rules to determine if you lived or died, the fighter had a leg up at low levels.  He continues this assertion with the progressive rise of the magic-user (mage/wizard/etc.) in power, as they begin to be able to cast world-breaking spells like Wish, Shapechange, and *gasp* Fireball. 

Illogical penguin is illogical.

But, in doing so, Mearls sets up nothing more than an "either/or" fallacy, also known as the False Dilemma.  Based on his statements, either you become a fighter, thriving at 3rd level before becoming irrelevant around 10th, or you become a magic-user, suffering through the first 6 levels before you get a few area-effect spells and dominate the game.  Either you get to enjoy the start of the game, mashing kobolds and orcs into the ground with your mighty +2 Flail, or you get to enjoy the late-game, blasting devils and abominations from existence with Mordenkainen's Magnificent Malconvocation. 

I outright reject this dichotomy.  The fundamental premise of a game is fun.  Remember that?  Fun!  It's not fun to have 3 hit points and to get taken out by a housecat, as Mearls fondly jokes about.  Similarly, it's not fun to sit on the sidelines while your mage friend nukes everything between here and Waterdeep with Fizban's Fabulous Flamethrower.  There's a sweet spot in between--around 7th level in 2nd edition, raised to 9th or 10th in 3rd/3.5e--that everyone gets to feel important at some point, but even then, the magic users outstrip the fighting classes at upper levels, in terms of both options and in terms of ability, while fighter-types dominate the low levels, due to relative survivability. 

The idea that you can only have fun at certain levels, the idea that you can only have fun together at even fewer levels, and that your character can and should only be effective at certain points, is contrary to the very premise of playing a co-operative game.  Instead of "we have fun", it devolves into "I have fun, then you have fun...if the campaign lasts that long." 

Truth be told, 4e's done a fairly admirable job of finding the elusive sweet spot--wizards don't feel as frail, and can occasionally even take a punch, while fighters and other warriors have abilities that keep them on par with their mythic and literary counterparts.  But, Mearls' argument seems to fly in the face of this logic, as he compares this inversely-proportional relationship favorably to deck-building in collectable card games:  where some decks are built to win now, others favor a slow build-up and a powerful endgame.

The problem with Mearls' ideas stems from the fact that no player plays D&D in a vacuum.  If I were playing a video game--let's use Blizzard's seminal Diablo II as an example--it would be fine for me to place myself on that continuum.  If I wanted, I could build a character in DII that would do very well in the act that I'm currently in:  given a Barbarian, for example, I could put points in the level 1 skill "Bash" and pump up the Mastery skill for whatever weapon I wanted to wield.  It wouldn't necessarily be very good for the end-game, but for the start of the game, I'd be a powerhouse.  Inversely, if I wanted to build a character to succeed in "Hell" difficulty, I would reserve my skill points for some of the later, more powerful skills like "Whirlwind" or "Berzerk".  Yes, I'd be crippled for the time being, but I'd be able to take on Diablo and Baal with better high-level skills.

That's great for playing solo, because it's my choice, but D&D doesn't work like that.  It's a social activity.  It's not fair or even remotely reasonable to implicitly ask one, two, or more players to essentially step aside, because "your class isn't important yet/anymore".  True, the role-playing aspects of D&D and other games place a limit on this, but the idea that this sort of thought-process is still pervasive, even celebrated, at the world's largest rpg-publisher is baffling.

Pitiful 3rd level cult sorcerers are
no match for Conan'smighty Cleave feat! 

It strikes me as particularly odd that, in a game that epitomizes the idea of the "triumphant hero"--the typical D&D character ascends from meager beginnings, graining power and prestige until they are giving noogies to demon lords and hanging out in not-Valhalla with not-Thor--that a traceable curve cannot be reached that runs concurrent, regardless of class.  The "tier" system in 4e is a start, as is Savage Worlds's various tiers (Novice/Veteran/Expert/Heroic/Legendary), but they do little to address the perception that a high level fighter can't hold a candle to a high level mage, or that apprentice mages should have to run in terror from their own familiars. 

Mearls' argument also runs on the assumption that most campaigns start at 1st level and run through the gamut of the game.  This strikes me as particularly confusing, as Mearls and others at WotC have cited in the past numerous times, that this is not the case.  In fact, it's an exceptional rarity.  As it turns out, most home games take place between 6th and 15th level, in that aforementioned "sweet spot", and only run in a given campaign for about a year to a year and a half.  If that's the case, and the marketing department knows this....why support a paradigm that intentionally deviates from what the market is telling you that it wants?!

All the data in the world doesn't do any good, if you don't actually do anything with it.  If the people want game balance, then that's what your design aim should be.  If people are going to play as a group, then you need to accomodate that as a goal.  And, if you're going to shoot for a "sweet spot", don't build mechanics that inherantly defy that aim!

In Which The Warlock Sheds a Tear...

Bat Masterson--
The object of Roxanne's affection

Emotion is a funny thing.  No doubt, we get attached to our own characters in role-playing games, but I'm often shocked at how much emotion gets attached to the NPCs in various campaigns, particularly romantic interests!

Way back when I was running Saltmarsh--almost 5 years ago now!--two NPCs ended up in romantic relationships with PCs.  Jathalain, an elven merchant and ranger, fell for Sarah's archer-bard, Brighid, while Chris 0's monk, Daishar, fell for the NPC Paladin Ashlyn.  It absolutely blew me away that the two players, fully rounded individuals themselves, were so eager to start a ficticious relationship...essentially with me, as I narrated the NPCs' actions, but just as much with a fictional idea of a person!

The Walkin' Dude waits in Denver...

What's more, I just watched it happen once more in this week's Deadlands game.  The PlatinumChick's saloon-girl/huckster, Roxanne, has all but fallen for the notorious Bat Masterson.  They've gone on three 'dates' in game...four, if you count their "liasons" in the Dodge City North Church.  But, with the posse having eliminated the threat of the Tick-Tock Man and driving Randall Flagg out of Dodge--especially after he tried to repossess the mystic weirding stone known as Maerlyn's Grapefruit--they're on their way out of town as well, heading west towards Denver.

 Masterson, as history shows us, joins the notable Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday in the gunfight at the O.K. Corral, in Tombstone.  And, at the time, we were all under the impression that Masterson did not, in fact, survive. 

The PlatinumChick looked at me with all but tears in her eyes.  "I feel bad," she said, "because I know what's going to happen to him, even though I shouldn't know what's going to happen..."  I replied succinctly that the Weird West is a history that's not our own...maybe there was a chance to save him?

"But, I have to find my dad!  He's heading towards Seattle!"

Therein lies the choice, no doubt.  As The Dark Tower beckons and the Great Rail Wars rage around the posse, in the background is going to lie a terrible choice.  Will Roxanne manage to make her way to meet her father in Seattle, or will she turn south to save Masterson from a horrible fate?  For that matter, will she ever free her arcane powers from Maerlyn's Grapefruit? 

Time will tell, my lovelies...

(Note:  As we found out after getting home, Bat Masterson did not die at the O.K. Corral.  In fact, he later moved to Denver, where he married an actress...sound familiar yet?)

In Which The Warlock Has a Bone to Pick...

What else can history teach us? Only the vanity of believing we can impose our theories on history. Any philosophy which asserts that human experience repeats itself is ineffectual.

--Jacques Ellul

I remember my first gaming session.  I remember piling around my friend Nathaniel's grandparents' house with three other guys, eager to roll dice for the first time.  I remember the first character I ever played:  Miron Blademonger, an elven rogue named for luminary Pittsburgh sports announcer Myron Cope.  I remember the first D&D game I ever ran, back in 8th grade:  a mashup of Dragonlance and Ravenloft that, looking back, was the absolute worst in fanboy-ism. 

I remember the first Wittenberg RP-Guild meeting--over 30 gamers crammed in the Li Room, all eager to hear what plans were on the horizon for the Wittenberg gaming scene.  I remember my the first WittCon, our first trip to Origins.  I remember my first game of WEGS (and the first incarnation of Nordling!).  Gaming permeates my memories like smoky cumin through a rich curry sauce.  Hell, in my wedding vows, I spoke of how I live in realms of fantasy, yet managed to find a real one in the PlatinumChick.

All of these are memories, obviously, and they're all important to me.  But to anyone else, they're just vicarious experience.  I can speak as fondly as I like of my own experiences, but at the end of the day, they're mine and no one else's.  Even those who were there bring their own perspective, experience, and opinion to each scene.

Myself and Mike Mearls, at Origins 2008

The above, undoubtedly, is why I took so much issue with the article I read recently.  Mike Mearls, current Group Manager on the D&D R&D Development team (and all around 4e guru and creator) began a new column on the Wizards of the Coast site, entitled Legends and Lore, which is devoted to the history of D&D.  Mearls' opinions, show the desperation of a D&D design team that is either unable or outright refuses to continue to evolve the brand, in favor of wallowing in the successes of prior editions and creations.

Speaking as someone who owns products stretching back to 1st Edition, speaking as someone who bought the D&D 30th Anniversary Book...when are we going to get on with something new?!

My biggest problem with Mearls' ideas stems from the hypocrasy of ideas that he seems to convey.  I agree with him in the sense that D&D is less about the rules, less about the 'numbers', and more about "your experience as a group, the stories that you and your friends share to this day. No specific rule, no random opinion, no game concept from an R&D designer, no change to the game’s mechanics can alter that."  However, rather than forging unique experiences and fostering the idea of The Individual as a gamer, the D&D brand has become rooted in providing a manufactured experience, with its creations (and their creators) more fixated on doing homage to their predecessors than actually providing new and unique takes on material.

Case in point:  WotC's current release schedule.  The current gaming community--particularly on ENWorld and RPG.net, but that's beside the point--has clamored for more information on the so-called PoLand setting:  the Nentir Vale and its environs.  Little fluff has been written about the Empire of Nerath, aside from the blurbs now and again referencing its past in various splatbooks.  A full campaign setting, detailing the history of the Dawn War and the Fall of Nerath would break new ground for gamers--allow these designers to put their mark on the D&D world like Ed Greenwood did with Forgotten Realms, like Weis and Hickman did with Dragonlance. 

Been there, gamed that...

But, such is not the case.  Scheduled material on the release calendar shows nothing of the sort.  Rumor has it that such a book was once on the docket, but was cancelled along with several other products.  Instead, we get the Neverwinter Campaign Setting...which was already covered in the Forgotten Realms Campaign Setting.  No doubt this was done as a package marketing deal with the upcoming Neverwinter MMO, but still...there's nothing new on the horizon. 

Hell's bells, there's only 6 total products for D&D this year on their own product catalog!  And two of the four aren't even books--one's a board game and another's a set of Dungeon Tiles!  Don't believe me?  Go look for yourself.

And the past few products?  Well, we got Gamma World...a throwback to the tongue-in-cheek post-apocalyptic game from 2e era.  We got Tomb of Horrors, a re-write of the classic 1e module.  We got a Castle Ravenloft board game, which while mechanically fast and fun, revels in its indulgence of the revered Hickman module.  And, we got the Dark Sun Campaign Setting.  Don't get me wrong--I love Dark Sun as much as the next guy, but why not something new?!

Mearls has the best of intentions when he says views D&D as cyclical.  He states that "A cycle emerges, as each version of the game represents a shift from one gaming generation to the next. What I’d like to do in this column is inspect that cycle, take it apart, and use it to look to the future."  But, the problem with cycles is that they lead nowhere.  In any business, as with in biology, the old adage strikes true:  Evolve or die.

It becomes clearer and clearer to me that D&D, as a game, has ceased its evolution after the advent of 4e.  Obviously, 4e itself was revolutionary in terms of its mechanics, its cosmology, and its game balance.   However, the creative team in the past 2-3 years has nearly become apologist for these drastic changes, eager to "return to their roots" and win back gamers from other systems, most notably Paizo's hit Pathfinder.  WotC's biggest effort in this is obviously the Essentials line, but the product releases listed above speaks for itself.   Mearls addresses this fracturing of the community at the end of his essay, working an emotional appeal for gamer unity, pleading "Don’t let that (sic) details drive us apart when the big picture says we should be joined together."

No.  Fundamentally, no.  You don't play in my games, you don't share my experiences.  Further, you (and everyone else in the gaming business, myself included) don't share the experiences of Gygax, Arneson, Hickman, Monte Cook or anyone else.  Trying to emulate their creations only makes for pale, unsatisfying imitations, and limits your own creativity.  Instead of trying to replicate what came before, why not work on something that comes organically?  Or, if there's such a dearth of new ideas, channel the works of someone who is being creative?

Indulging in "...Inverness"

Further, the continual attempts to "standardize" the D&D experience through RPGA gaming and events like D&D Encounters doesn't provide the ability to "share our imaginations" as Mearls eloquently puts it, but rather homogenizes and sterilizes the experience.  If the concept of D&D Encounters is to be a short, new-gamer-friendly experience that shows off the uniqueness of the game, why run players through a pre-destined, linear track that wallows in its own nostalgia, making obscure references to the Ghost Tower of Inverness?  Why not put out a new setting, or a wholly new product and show it off?

A few months ago, I lauded John, over at World Vs. Hero for "making it new".  His game provides a fresh, unique method of storytelling in a format that's rarely seen--one-on-one gaming.  I joined the WEGSHogz because El Willy brought a fresh take to old-school gaming--the casino elements and unique adverserial GMing of WEGS are almost unseen, throughout all of the games I've played. 

D&D is, and will most likely always be, the king of the hill in terms of roleplaying games.  But, if the most beloved roleplaying game is to survive, it cannot stagnate.  As the saying goes, those who do not learn from the past are doomed to repeat it...and, in this case, if you can't learn from what's gone before, you're going to be stuck back in 1973 forever.

In Which The Warlock Contemplates Sleep...

With nearly a full week off last week due to the ice storm, then a weekend away at a local bed & breakfast, I have well and truly screwed up my sleep schedule, my friends and neighbors.  Having slept in comfortably for almost a week, waking up at 6:00am to do the teaching thing has been brutal.  I've been averaging about 4 hours of sleep a night, since Sunday, which has left me pretty bleary in the mornings.

However, it's occured to me:  adventurers have got to have the worst sleep routines of anyone else out there in fantasy-land. 

Bear with me here:

Wake up, Crono!  2 hours aren't enough?

A wizard has it easy at first, studying under another mage or the like, or attending a mage academy.  One would figure that if a mage academy is anything like a modern college, said wizard probably spent three nights of the week at the local tavern, followed by a harried Sunday of writing theses and practicing cantrips that will never see use in the field anyway.  Is it any wonder that warlocks and sorcerers skip all of this mess?

After graduating, that wizard must spend at least 8 hours asleep each night, followed by another hour studying their spellbook to attain their spells for the day.  Afterwards, follows an absurd amount of travel--usually to some far-off adventure site--during which there are typically three encounters, each taking approximately a minute and a half of dodging, spellcasting, getting stabbed, and trying to stay conscious. 

Following said encounters, the wizard has to make dinner for his comrades, get patched up (especially if the party's warrior-type didn't do his job well), then settle down for a night of camping in dangerous, foreign territory.  If he's lucky, he won't have to take a 3 hour watch, interrupting his sleep even further.  And then?  After all this?  He has to do it again tomorrow!  Madness!



The "ideal" version of the D&D campsite...


Imagine for a moment, if your day was like this.  You wake up after a night of sleep only to find out that your work will take longer, if you didn't get enough sleep.  You then go on a road trip, deliberately out in the middle of nowhere, during which you'll be mugged not once, but three separate times!  Then, instead of sleeping in a motel or the like, you have to camp out in the wilderness--regardless of weather--and do it all again the next day.  And just hope that you don't get woken up in the middle of the night by some more muggers!

I might complain about my sleep schedule, but if I was Magey McWizardson, I'd be passing out constantly!  It's almost a necessity that GMs hand-wave the exhaustion of travel and the like, or every adventurer would be dying of sleep deprivation and other related diseases.

All this actually reminds me just a touch of my "Tear of Ioun" game.  At the start, as the PCs explored the Forlorn Tower, their resources--and sanity!--dwindled away, they actually feared sleeping!  After all, who would want to sleep in a corrupted, dripping tower that shifted into and out of the Far Realm over and over again? 

Do your friendly neighborhood adventurer a favor--get them some rest!  That "extended rest" might not seem like much to us, but they need their beauty rest!