Critical Hits

The Journal of Gamer Culture

Dear Mom & Dad: Please Send GP

Having recently become unemployed, I found myself this week back where I went to college. I’d taken a job there after I graduated, and a position was open in my old department. Being back in that environment brought back memories of the heady days when I used to stay up far too late talking on IRC, learning how to code HTML tables, and waking up not knowing if the “7:00″ on the clock meant AM or PM. My college experience was somewhat unusual in that I switched majors twice, extending my stay three years. Not that I cared. I always favored playing multiclass characters in high school anyway.

All this academia got me thinking about all the fun I had at the beginning of the second half of a campaign I played in a few years back. We’d leveled to 20, and this was the first time any of us had played epic-level characters. As a reward for our past endeavors, our DM told us we had some land to do with as we might. Some of us built little villages. As I was playing a heavy metal bard, I did the only logical things, and created the Academy of Rock Justice. It served two functions. First, it was a school for new adventurers. There were departments for all the major character classes, but it was (unsurprisingly) renowned for its music department. It also served as my PC’s personal militia, its ranks filled with students and graduates. Yes, I pushed my poor DM far past where I should have in regards to the number and level of followers I should have been able to acquire. It didn’t matter. It was completely awesome.

The concept of a school for adventurers is hardly new. Many popular books and movies have utilized this device to great effect as a home base for their characters and a backdrop for the story. Let’s take a short delve into the reasons an academic setting is such fertile ground for storytelling (especially the roleplaying kind).

I’m Going To Major In Illithid Philosophy

One of my college professors once told me that conflict is the mother of a good story. It can be conflict between people, or conflict within oneself. Most college students are bombarded continuously with new experiences, new choices to make, and they’re going to be thrust out into Harsh Reality at the end of all this. There’s pressure to make smart choices, because the rest of their lives may be affected by the choices they make. (My seven-year bachelor’s degree agrees with this idea wholeheartedly.) Though it seems worlds away a decade later, I know from experience these pressures are very real. I’ll never forget watching one of my classmates break down right in front of me stressing over a final exam. To be honest, thinking about the words “final exam” made my stomach tighten a little bit.

What this gives a storyteller is a character with a perspective on the world unlike that of the average person. I can’t remember the last time I had to study for a test. There’s nothing quite like the trouble a person can get into when they’re  learning to spread their wings. A character could be driven to succeed at his or her particular field of study because they are the first in their family to be able to get an education. There are stories waiting to be told if that endeavor is going less than smoothly.

Heroes Make Passes At Classes With Classes

D&D (and other roleplaying games like it) are great for an academic setting because the player has to assign a class (read: job) to their PC. Having what basically amounts to a vocational school for adventurers makes life easier for players who aren’t very good at making backstories, and even easier for players who are.

There are a wide range of ways an academic setting can be used in a campaign. The first Fable game featured a Hero Academy that trained PCs in their chosen art, for good or for evil. It was pretty generic past that. It served mostly as a home base to come level PCs and get new quests, but had a few key plot points tied to it. Stories like those in the Harry Potter series and the Police Academy movies both tied their plots more closely to the academic setting as well as narrowed the scope of what is taught there.

A Lot Of Stuff Happens At School

With so many classes going on, especially those involving people learning to harness potentially dangerous forces, all kinds of interesting things can go wrong. There are lots of secrets to be discovered in an old school. Some of them are old and might unleash things the unwitting PCs aren’t expecting. Some are new, like the answers to a test to be pilfered from a filing cabinet in a teacher’s office in the dead of night. There are bullies to flee from (and later grow powerful enough to defeat.) There are field trips and class projects that our muggle-parents would never, ever let us take part in.

That’s Great, Where Do I Sign Up (And Is There Financial Aid Available)?

I think this kind of setting would lend itself best to the start of a campaign (or a point at which a character wants to change classes).

I’ve given several examples already of works that can be borrowed from to design your own academy. As a hub for the campaign, you can use it to present quests, introduce characters, and provide a place for the PC’s to obtain (and store) their equipment. It also provides one of the only frameworks in which it makes sense to me for a person to learn a bunch of new skills and techniques over a short period of time. I never did understand why my mage didn’t know Fireball before killing that last goblin but did afterwards.

If you’re looking for a pre-made solution, I was surprised to find there wasn’t much out there (although I’m sure our readers will inform me otherwise!). There was, however, a d20 supplement awhile back called The Redhurst Academy Of Magic which was presented as a student handbook for the academy (and is, therefore, rules-light enough to be adapted to any system).

And sure, you can get financial aid. Just not from me.

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Chatty DM, Freelancer, Part 1: Lessons from Academia

Warning: This post turned out more of an autobiographic piece rather than writing advice. Still, my key writing lessons of that period are outlined in there.

Right before sitting down to write these lines, I  sent a pair of outlines for Dungeon magazine that, baring no major revisions, will lead to writing my first official D&D articles.  My first in nearly 30 years of playing the game.

Looking back at one of the busiest springs I’ve had in a long time, I’ve come to terms with the reality that I’ve become a recurring freelance writer and game designer. My prior experiences from 2008-2010 were not just statistical flukes; it seems I really made it.

The plan that I set out for myself 2 years ago (get better, get projects, go part time, go freelance) as I took the reigns of my life back from depression and bipolar disorder is unfolding beyond my initial expectations. I’m now fully self-employed as a writer and my wife tells me I’ve never been happier.

The upcoming months are shaping up to be as busy as the ones before. Back in 2010, I put aside my gaming so I could keep up with writing for the  blog and prepare my training seminars. This year, I wanted to keep gaming, so I set aside blogging. I argued that I usually blogged about what I did and could’t blog about what I was writing… what with being  under so many Non-Disclosure Agreements (NDAs).

The thing is, blogging is cathartic for me, I write what I want, when I want, with no clear deadlines, no imposed subjects and no specific word count except the ones that I impose on myself. Hell this post’s not even going where I initially intended!

I LOVE blogging, I miss blogging… hell, aren’t I blogging about blogging right now?

So that’s why, as I laid to rest my last “rushing to deadlines” bits of work, I decided to take back control of my writing schedule to  include a weekly blog post. I know, it’s a fraction of what I use to do, but now that writing is actually what I feed my kids and pay my house with, the era of blogging 5 nights a week has long passed…

…and asking you for dough is OUT of the question. At least, until I publish a book and kindly ask you all to buy it or help my kickstart it.

So that’s why I thought I’d start this new weekly habit by starting a new series (god knows when I’ll finish it) on my personal experience with writing and freelance work. Many of my Critical-Hits colleagues have already done so, chiefly among them my friends Chris (here and here) and Shawn who both had great things to say about freelancing.

I think I have a few, interesting insights to bring as I might have been one of the first RPG enthusiasts to have successfully managed the “Blog to networking to freelance” path.

So here goes.

The Early Years: French.

First off, while I only realized it late in my life, I’ve always been a writer. I became a voracious reader of novels during late grade school. I only slowed when I stopped taking public transport when I hit 19 and bought my 1st car.

When we started writing essays and stories in high school, I loved it! I was allowed to use verb tenses that we hadn’t yet covered because I convinced my teacher that “the story would sound better like that”. In later years, I would learn from younger students that some of my stories were being used in reading comprehension tests.  I was pleased but I never thought about it as a career.

The Early Years: English

Being a Montrealer, I was raised in a French family (although my parents spoke fluent English) and went to French schools until my early 20s. I learned English watching Sesame Street, MASH reruns with my dad and deciphering Gary Gygax’s prose while in Junior High; I bought the 1e Dungeon Master Guide when I was 12, my first RPG book ever.

I started writing English essays in high school (as our academic curriculum dictated) and set out to devour English novels by the hundreds. My first authors, proposed by my mother, were Dean Koontz, David Eddings and Margaret Weis/Tracy Hickman. None were pinnacle of literature, but all made for great, accessible reading for a 13-16 year old teenager.

When I turned 18, in what we call CEGEP (pre-university), I took my first English writing class. That’s where I  made two horrifying discoveries:

1) English has a grammar. Up to that point I had been surfing with good grades by basically aping the sentence structures I had gleaned from books, unaware of the existing rules.

2) The torture that is multiple drafts. Each week we’d spend 3 hours (plus about the same at home) doing the following: Write and hand in a new text based on an  imposed subject, correct the edited 1st draft we handed in the last week and correct the 2nd draft we had handed 2 weeks before.

While I “forgot” about that draft business, and consistently failed to apply it during my early blogging days, I now realize that writing is so much more than an easy game. The core of quality writing is editing and re-writing… no matter how much I still hate doing it sometimes.

I’m 38. I’ve known about the importance of re-writes and editing for a long time. Yet, I’m finally learning to respect it as a necessary step that separates good from great writing.

I passed that class with flying colours; the teacher told me I was one of the most creative writers he’d taught in years. Yet, once again, I failed to acknowledge I was a writer because I was too focused on studying science.

Mother: You have too keep all options open son.

Me: Hey that new AIDS thing looks like a cool thing to cure!

The second fundamental lesson I got from my pre-college years, I owe to my Modern History of the World teacher. In the first class, he (tried to) teach us the importance of building an outline when writing essays and, more importantly for the class, reverse engineer a complex text into its bare bones concepts by distilling it back into an outline.

Teacher: Each paragraph is a concept, an opinion. Each sentence an idea that supports that concept. You should be able to distill each paragraph in a single sentence and each sentence in one key word.

Like Neo, I got my first glimpse at the Matrix… I really did.

Adulthood, English Undergraduate College

I studied in Montreal’s most prestigious English university. Not so much out of pretension, but mostly because microbiology was taught directly as a major instead of a third year minor like in the other university I was considering.

Lab reports, academic papers, essays on the difference between men and women, the Scandinavian model of retail economics, the state of Multiple Sclerosis research and so on… I wrote a ton of stuff, stuff that would make me cringe if I had to re-read it.

By that time I was also writing my own GURPS RPG  adventures as scene-based narratives; each containing way too much details but I relished doing it! If you see me at a con one day, ask me to tell you about the Monstrous Brotherhood, an adventure with all monster PCs tackling a Dark Tower that seemingly builds itself at night.

During my last year as an undergrad, I took an English class called “Fundamentals of Academic Writing for English Speakers”, yeah, don’t ask. This class taught me, among other things, how to do proper research, quotes and paraphrasing of research papers and academic journals.

At the end of the class, as I was focused on graduating and starting my master’s in environmental microbiology, the English teacher called me to his office and asked me if I would be willing to allow one of my essays to feature in an academic writing textbook his department was working on.

I said yes… Suffice it to say that I still refused to consider myself a writer. I was a scientist damn it!

Adulthood, Graduate Studies, French

I spent the next 2 years in a French applied microbiology lab, reading tons of scientific papers about bacteria and fungi that could degrade diesel, gas and oil spills. I worked with some crazy bugs that could eat stuff less soluble than your average rock!

My research director drilled a few very good writing  lessons in my college-hardened brain: write simply, don’t fear reusing the same words and verb tenses all the time and consider your reader to be a complete neophyte in regards to the subject I was writing about. That’s where I learned that overuse of jargon was a common pitfall of writing.

Director: Assume I’m four years old…

Phil: That would mean you can’t read.

Director: Nobody likes a smart-ass Phil.

By the end of my second year, I moved 800 km north of Montreal, following my wife for her first post-graduation job. We spent 2 years there, I wrote my Master’s report while working as a high school science teacher; I generated 175 pages of ill-written, dubiously researched, greatly illustrated prose.

My research report was accepted with minor corrections. In my director’s comments, he wrote  ”Phil has had a relative ease in writing the report”.

Yeah, I have a hard time getting a hint sometimes… but the light was starting to flicker on.

And so I graduated (1999) and started looking for “real work”.

I’ll tell you more next time.

What about you, what early writing lessons stuck with you?

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Critical Bits for the week ending 2011-05-29

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What Can GenCon Do for You?

In a previous column about working in the RPG industry as a game designer, one of my suggestions was to run as many different kinds of games as you can, as often as you can, for a variety of people and in a variety of settings. In my own freelance career, one of the most valuable experiences I can point to as putting me and keeping me on the right track is running games at large conventions like GenCon, Origins, and DDXP/Winter Fantasy—as well as at countless smaller conventions and game days.

Think Locally, DM Globally

For the first 20 years of my gaming life, across a variety of RPGs and campaigns, I ran games for many people. These were usually heavily house-ruled home campaigns where I knew the players well, or the players were invited by friends who were already playing. Rarely was I running a game for a true stranger. It is a comfortable feeling running a game for friends and acquaintances, whose quirks and biases and preferences you know very well. And more importantly, running a game for familiar people puts you more at ease—because you know they know you well, and they know what to expect from your games. They are accustomed to your strengths and weaknesses, and there is a natural rhythm that gets established. [Read the rest of this article]

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Review: D&D Daggerdale

Those of you out there that said 4e would make a great video game? Well, turns out, not so much…

D&D Daggerdale is the newest D&D video game release from Atari, available for download on PC, Playstation Network, and Xbox Live. We played the Xbox version, using review copies provided from the publisher. A “hack and slash” style game (in the same genre as Diablo, World of Warcraft, and to a lesser extent older D&D games like Neverwinter Nights and Baldur’s Gate), the game is touted as the first game to use the D&D 4e ruleset (though the connection is loose, as we’ll discuss) and set in the Forgotten Realms. The game features single-player, local 2 player, and online up to 4 player modes. Both Bartoneus and I played a bit of single player before joining up  later on for a 2 player online game. Collectively, we played probably about an hour and a half of actual game play, leveling up to 2nd level before calling it quits for the night, covering the same ground multiple times for reasons I’ll discuss. [Read the rest of this article]

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Splitting Shadows

This past week, I decided to pretend I was J.J. Abrams in the final season of Lost and concocted a reason for all the mysterious events and shadowy nether-business in my campaign. Since the PCs were trapped in some horrifyingly evil prison demiplane, I decided an appropriately evil thing should be trying to make everything worse. But I was still stuck.

Splitting The Party (Sort Of)

The previous session found me trying something new: I’d invented a strange device that let the PCs go to sleep and project a shadowy version of themselves into the “real world”, in which they discovered the baddies were using a similar method to spread evil, death corruption, and other shadowriffic things. I’d decided that one of the PC’s, whose player entered the game several sessions in, wouldn’t be able to project due to not having been exposed to the same black goop the cement zombies were made of. This, of course, would effectively split the party once everybody went to sleep. I had what I believed to be a cool reason for doing this. While the party was off trying to thwart the plan of some shadowy evil, their bodies would come under attack, and the guy left behind would have to defend. As the others were hit, they would wake up, and could help defend but it would make the main mission harder to complete. It seemed totally cool and also like something I was pretty damned sure I didn’t have the chops to pull off yet. I decided to try it anyway.

This had a couple adverse effects I wasn’t anticipating. One, the party had no idea why there was someone missing, and mistrust of him ran rampant through the party for the whole session. Two, the party on the “main mission” got sidetracked and I completely forgot about the poor bastard left sitting there in the shadow world. About a half hour later I happened to glance at him looking bored and “HOLY CRAP BRIAN I AM SO SORRY” flew out of my mouth.  I then figured out a way to get everybody awake again and had them run off to fight a particularly nasty white dragon from a story lead they hadn’t taken in the previous session. A good time was then had by all. Except for the dragon, who was played by a My Little Pony toy from a Happy Meal and consequently welcomed death.

A delightful confluence of procrastination followed by the late-night vomit of small children found me at the day of our next session wishing I had planned more. I considered trying to run the same split encounter as before but to nudge the players in the right direction and start the “defending the sleepers” action immediately so as not to get distracted and leave anyone sitting there bored again. Given how the last session went, I was pretty worried about it Going Terribly, but I ran the idea past my old DM and he gave a few suggestions and propped my self-confidence up so I decided to give it a go. I made a few tweaks, such as giving the awake team 3-4 combat rounds for every one the sleepers took (to equalize the play time).

Things actually went pretty well, to my surprise. I decided to throw wave after wave of little shadowy rat-minions at the sleeping people, and the difficulty level of the encounter stayed relatively constant until the end since sleeping people who were bitten and damaged woke up and could then fight the rats. Nobody on Team Awake was getting damaged too terribly, but they were having trouble keeping enough people on Team Asleep. By the end of the mission, there were only two sleepers fighting off three baddies to stop an assassination. They wound up just a few hp above bloodied before it was all over, and were harried enough throughout to be invested in the encounter. I wound up just sort of figuring out how many combat rounds to go to keep things exciting instead of a static rule. I was really pleased with how it went.

I would imagine this could be used for other things too, like Inception-style dream-delves. But I haven’t tested it past the first level. If you get stuck in there for 50 years, it’s not my fault.

Let’s Boogey

The dream-encounter was what eventually inspired me to name the Big Bad of this campaign and figure out his intentions. I remembered watching an episode of the Real Ghostbusters as a kid featuring the Boogeyman, and I decided it would be cool if he was behind everything. I did, however, decide to change his appearance. (I haven’t decided yet whether it’s because the way he looked in the cartoon freaked me out.) The pocket dimension I’d trapped the PC’s in was literally the place nightmares came from, and the Boogeyman had figured a way to break out and unleash widespread terror and corruption in the real world.

I wanted a way to incorporate his ability to draw on the PCs’ nightmares into the story (especially the ones they had as children), but the backstories the characters had made didn’t talk about anything like that. So I decided to do something different twice in the same week. I emailed all my players, and asked them to write me a few words about their character’s fears, and to describe a nightmare their PC had as a child. I even told them what it was for, and said I thought it’d be a cool way to let everyone contribute to the story. I’ll admit it takes a little of the “what’s going to happen next” anticipation out of the game if they know the Boogeyman is going to eventually mess with them using the things they sent me, but it seems fun enough to be worth it. I also told them to send me their responses privately, so they’ll only be expecting their own fears and nightmares. That should spice things up a little I fully expect to hear something to the effect of “you’re afraid of bunnies?” come out of one of my players before the end of the session.

We’ll have to see how it all winds up, but at the end of the day I fail to see how a little collaborative storytelling ever hurt anyone. If I wind up in DM Hospital, I’ll make sure to report in to spare you the same fate.

One Last Piece Of Advice

If you want to get anything done during a game session, don’t let the players find out they’re fighting Fell Taint Rippers. Just take my word for it.

 

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Critical Hits Podcast #29: Randall Walker and Mike Shea on Terrain

Mike Shea of Sly Flourish interviewed Randall Walker of Initiative or What? (Deadorcs on Twitter) about the use of terrain in your 4e D&D game. Learn how to effectively use terrain to mix up your encounters and hear plenty of ideas on how to take an ordinary monster fight and give it a whole new dimension by shaping the battlefield. Also learn tips about using and making physical terrain in order to give your encounters another dimension.

Additional Reading:

Terrain in 4e (70 minutes, 66 MB)

[Download MP3 versionPodcast FeediTunes Link]

 

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Critical Bits for the week ending 2011-05-22

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The Old School Job, Part 2: The Lich-Sorceress’ Release

In Part 1, I gave a short description of the Old School Fantasy Hack I was doing using the Leverage RPG as it’s basis. I also set the scene for a an adventure I recently played. Now let’s dive back in.

Dramatis Persona Prise Deux

Var: Beastmaster Ranger-acrobat.

Legodrtz Lolthklorian: Lofty Neutral greyish elf Arcane Sniper-Archer

Elvis the Swift: Chaotic Goo revivalist of the Church of the Holy Tentacle

Tue: Chill Neutral monk of the Boot to the Head Dojo

Valoooovia: Chaotic Horny Amazon psychic sex-mage

The Pre-Crawl: Research

Things started out with the adventurers splitting up to gather info on the temple, its background and its newest occupants. I was curious to see how well this would go.

Valoooovia went to look at various records and found out that the temple had had a great many different denominations over the last century, many Good, most Evil. Her presence didn’t go unnoticed as she attracted the attention of a lovelorn spirit that attached itself to her, incessantly flirting with her.

Elvis and Var went to track the temple’s current “landlord”, a minor burocrat who was more than happy to discuss opportunities with the young, charismatic Lovecraftian revivalist.

Real Estate ‘crat: Did you know there are extensive catacombs below the temple? Perfect for dark ceremonies and having “guests” over for extended stays.

Elvis: What about pools? Do you have a pool down there that could house, oh I don’t know, a few cubits of tentacles?

Real Estate ‘cra: Why yes, we do! In fact, if you could help us with the troublesome, late paying scum exploiting such prime space, we’d be happy to rent it to you at a premium rate!

By that time I was completely off script… not that I had much to begin with. I was enjoying this growing story with the bumbling Priest-Bard so I grabbed at the idea and went to town with it.

Real Estate ‘cra: Here’s a map indicating a secret access to the catacombs and the pool in question. Good luck.

Tue and Legodrzt prowled around the temple when night fell, following up on rumours that some hunting “mommies” were out at night. Turned out that there was a group of 6 or so mummified hunters prowling around the temple, coming out from its main entrance.

Tue went out and tried to kick a few to pieces (catching a bad case of “A Mummy’s Touch”, a rotting disease with creepy maternal overtones, in the process). He took down most of them but missed one.

Legodrtz followed the last one from rooftop to rooftop and invoked a magical tracking arrow-head to embed in his quarry. While he succeeded, he got struck by some sort of psycho-necrotic whiplash, opening his mind to some tenebrous consciousness.

Chatty: Just know that “The Dark Heart Suspects”…

Legodrtz’s player: Hum, okay?

He also witnessed the mummy jump on a hapless bystander, rip its heart out and carry it back to the temple…

The Crawl – Short and Tentacle-y

I was now certain that this could be a “split-the-party”-friendly game, as long as I didn’t go into fully fledged combat scenes with a subset of players. This fits with what I recall from my experiences with AD&D 1e, the core inspiration for my hack (sans all the subsystems).

Using the newly found map and tracking the tagged mummy, our characters explored the catacombs, heading deeper toward what they assumed was “the Dark Heart”. I had them roll one simple orientation challenge before reaching their destination. They succeeded so I set up a confrontation (using the newly minted combat rules my friend Yan and I developed ).

The heroes arrived on a U shaped ledge connected to a lower level through a slide-like stone outcropping. The place was crawling with  spineless/headless zombies as were two animated snakes-like creatures, each made of a freshly discorporated human spine and skull.  There was also a pair of those Tomb Stalker mummies.

At the extreme end of the ground floor rose a ghastly wall of putrid, pulsating flesh: The Dark Heart. This was an undead construct made of the hearts of all the slain souls in and around the temple these last few days which in turn controlled all the mindless undead of the complex (the Bone Snakes and Zombies).

The fight lasted a good 60-80 minutes. Among it’s highlights were:

  • Var, going all dual-sword crazy, took down a bunch of zombies in one go
  • Legodrtz made his embedded arrow explode just to have the mummy take it out and throw it among the zombies near it… splattering them all over the Dark Heart, earning him “The Dark Heart Beckons” complication.
  • Elvis summoning a tentacle pod that embedded itself in his flesh, which kept growing throughout the fight
  • Chucking monsters down the ledges onto others.

Once the monsters were vanquished, leaving only the Dark Heart behind, Elvis tried to weaken it by transplanting his  increasingly worrisome tentacles from his flesh directly into the Heart.

Chatty: All right man, usually the tentacles would play against you but this is kinda cool and “it” wants that. They’ll help you (hands a d8) BUT for each “1″ you roll, I can make them grow 2 dice levels. Once passed d12, you are consumed… you cool with that?

Elvis’ player: Oh yeah!

He rolled a one… and failed to weaken the Dark Heart enough…

Chatty: One more “growing”‘ and you’re tentacle compost friend.

Elvis: That was a bad move…

The situation was saved by Valoooovia who took out her wand of uncontrollable orgasms (I’m not making this up) and used it to summon the spirits of cheap doxies, slovenly trull, brazen strumpets and all the other shady characters featuring on page 192 of the the AD&D 1E DMG.

She sent them all to take down what was left of the Dark Heart.

Chatty: As the spirit-whore cries of enraptured bliss assault the mass of abandoned hearts, you feel a stony mass in the middle starting to tremble. One that hasn’t known such pleasure and abandon in centuries.

Valoooovia: Wha?

Chatty: Yeah, the middle of the Dark Heart is actually a Lich Sorceress’ phylactery. She hasn’t had “a good one” for so long that it basically explodes in orgasmic shards of sharp stones and pent-up arcane-energy.  You win the scenario!

Epilogue

In hindsight, I feel I expedited the end a bit.  I could have had the Lich-Sorceress come out during combat and create a race against time where the heroes would have to take the Heart down while the Lich blasted away.  Yet, I hit the game’s core goal: successfully entertain a group of players for a few hours, including character generation. I’m quite happy.

The hack is a great success. It feels like a complete RPG.  I just need to make a few final tweaks to the draft and it will be ready for editing.

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. It feels good to be back!

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The Architect DM: Creating Histories – Part 2

Last week in my first post tackling the subject of creating histories for an RPG world I discussed relatively “meta” and experimental concepts. This week I’d like to get down to some specifics and hopefully address the concept a bit more directly. The exact question/suggestion that inspired this topic was worded as, “In my homebrew, creating histories in specific territories is a challenge – particularly linking them to the whole world.”

While last week I talked about letting your players help design your game’s/territory’s history and using your previous campaigns to build history, but today I’m going to discuss some ideas about creating histories for a new game world without relying on players to help you out.

Don’t Worry About Creating Less History

For a little bit of guidance, I asked Dave (the Game, my first DM, most likely the biggest influence on me as a DM) what advice he would give on this topic. His answer was, “Don’t build too much in advance, build it during play based on the needs of the story and the characters.” For me this advice is spot on because one of the biggest road blocks a DM can hit when planning a campaign is feeling like they are under-planning and that they are not prepared enough for their own game. There is no rule that says you have to have ‘X’ amount of back story prepared for a game or that you must have fully fleshed out histories for every single city and region that is on your map.

Don’t let getting stumped on creating a history for your game stop you from planning for the ‘present’ that the players are going to experience. If you feel like you’re starting an adventure without enough history of your game world planned, then the odds are you’re doing it right. This advice is the root behind my suggestion in the first post for letting your players help you design the backstory of your game. [Read the rest of this article]

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