What Classes Should be in D&D?
For me, choosing a class has always been one of the most fun and important decisions to make while playing Dungeons & Dragons. I can still remember the feeling of pure excitement I had when I first cracked open the 3rd Edition Player’s Handbook and saw that Monk was a core class. I also remember our friends all having multiple discussions about what exactly the Sorcerer class was and how it was different from the Wizard. I view these discussions along the same lines as what would happen if the Fighter, Wizard, or Cleric were left out of the first Player’s Handbook for an edition. With the next edition of D&D now in open playtest, I felt it was a good time to discuss the varying levels of class distinction in D&D.
Considering the Monk is the class I played the most of in 3E, I was surprisingly happy it wasn’t included in the first PHB for 4th Edition. It never felt quite right to me as a class presented as an introductory option for D&D players unless it was specifically for an Oriental Adventures style of game. I think that if you boiled down the options for character classes to the most basic you would end up with Fighter, Cleric, Wizard, and sometimes Thief/Rogue. Beyond these 3-4 options the list of secondary classes can vary greatly. Depending on player preferences, classes such as the Bard, Druid, Paladin, Ranger, Barbarian, and many others can all be seen as important options for players. My opinion is that beyond the four main classes, most of the other options readily fall into two categories: specialization or combination.
Combinations / Multi-Classing
I would like to go through a quick experiment. Let’s put aside many of our assumptions/favorite characters and look at some of D&D’s classes in their raw forms. I don’t think it does any disservice to the Paladin class to say that it is a combination of the Cleric and Fighter concepts. In the same way, I believe you can say that most Bards fall somewhere between Rogue and Wizard, and that most Rangers can be put somewhere between Rogue and Fighter. The toughest combination I find is the Wizard/Cleric, but I keep coming back to the Druid as a class that often feels like it is somewhere between those two classes. Surely you can come up with a Bard, Ranger, or Druid that is nothing like any of the other classes, but I think having a class paradigm to begin with makes those break out concepts even more exciting and this is, after all, only an experiment.
This gives us a fairly clean wheel of class relationships:
Fighter – Paladin – Cleric – Druid – Wizard – Bard – Rogue – Ranger – Fighter (loop)
I really enjoy seeing a nice, clean, logical layout for classes and how they relate to one another. I enjoy thinking about the sliding scale between the primary classes and imaging what a Paladin would look like closer to the Fighter end (maybe close to or having already lost faith) or closer to the Cleric end (extremely dedicated, focused, and not rearing for a fight). I also think it gets interesting when you think about pushing a primary class closer to one or the other secondary classes. Imagine playing a Cleric or a Fighter that leans towards the Paladin concept between them, or a Rogue that dabbles in music/song and discovers a yet unknown arcane spark within themselves leaning towards Bard. [Read the rest of this article]
Review: DungeonBuilder
I’m an unusual gamer in that I do most of my gaming online. I live out in the sticks of rural Florida so I can’t really find a real life group. I’ve come to prefer playing online for a few reasons other than that, but nonetheless, when I talk about tabletop games I often have to consider that I’m talking to people who play on tabletops. I often play through some fairly quirky methods. My current favorite is using Google Documents to “write the game” with players (with Invisible Castle for rolls). I also sometimes play using Skype and Gametable/Virtual Daivve. The latter, along with Maptools, is one of the more common methods for playing online, as the program provides dice and maps for your use.
Enter DungeonBuilder into this area. The two pieces of software I’ve linked above are free, but there are pay alternatives that offer a bit more pizzaz, such as Fantasy Ground, and Wizard’s own Virtual Tabletop (though the latter is currently a feature of a D&D Insider subscription, so if you want to play with it you have to pick up the entire package). DungeonBuilder is a browser-based digital tabletop alternative that is purchased by subscription. DungeonBuilder costs $19.99 for a yearly subscription for a GM and $8.99 for a player. Though this is a “launch special” so I’ve no idea how long it will last. The prices seem decent for what you get right now – I’m not sure whether I’d endorse raising them unless more features get rolled out or the webapp gets cleaned up some. While it is a useful program, it could use touching up. [Read the rest of this article]
Playtest “D&D Next” Like A Pro
I may not be the best game designer in the world, but if there’s one thing I do know, it’s playtesting. I’ve been a playtester for a variety of games from RPGs to party games to board games to light card games to heavy war games. I’ve been chief of product development for a startup card game publisher, and a lead playtester (and copied on ALL playtest reports) for Marvel Heroic Roleplaying. A good set of playtesters can make your good idea great, or kill your bad idea before you invest too much time and effort.
With the open playtest of the new iteration of D&D coming tomorrow, I wanted to offer some of my advice on playtesting and giving feedback. Wizards of the Coast will provide plenty of instructions on what they do and don’t want to see, so obviously that could easily supersede anything I say here. These are some general guidelines to keep in mind for D&D, so hopefully you find these tidbits helpful while playing the game and collecting your feedback.
Respect Their Playtest Decisions
The designers at WotC have decided that the first thing we’re going to see is going to include pre-generated characters, and not have character creation rules initially. I understand not being happy with this decision, however, it’s not like they’re going to suddenly decide that there will never be character creation rules. So when submitting your feedback, you don’t need to tell them “I wish I could see the character creation rules.” As professional game designers, they’ve decided (after many meetings, I’m sure) on this method of rolling rules out, so try and respect that. Keep your responses to what you were provided, not complaining that you don’t have what’s already been promised. [Read the rest of this article]
Hold On Loosely, But Don’t Let Go
This model clearly demonstrates why it's always best to play D&D outside, preferably on pavement or some other surface whose maintenance you are not responsible for.
Have you ever played in a game with a really good DM? The kind where you’re engaged even when you’re not on the edge of your seat, there’s not a lot of bickering at the table over rules, and everybody talks about their adventures years later?
I really wanna be that guy. I’m not yet.
This quest has caused me a lot of soul-searching over this past year. I’ve run a respectable gauntlet of newbie mistakes. I’ve tried planning for every contingency only to find my players easily discovered the gaping cracks in my armor. I’ve tried bludgeoning my players with DM Fiat to make my plans work. I’ve tried emphatically cautioning them about doing that next thing under pain of death. (That’s a crowd favorite, by the way.)
I’ve been experiencing something completely bizarre in the campaign I’m running now. I put some pieces in place, establish a few locations that are relevant to that week’s story, and a basic premise to get the plot started. Then I just sort of sit back and see what happens.
I’m not going to lie to you. It’s completely terrifying. But it’s the kind of terrifying where the session has consistently been interesting and fun for me to run and I’m pretty sure my players were really into it too. From the very first night, it’s recaptured the magic I felt years ago during my favorite D&D campaigns. That’s a big deal for me. I haven’t had that feeling in a D&D game when I was behind the screen until now. Three sessions in, it’s still a joy, and it’s far more fun than stress. I hope it stays that way.
I think it will. I finally realized why I loved some of the campaigns I’ve played in: I was let loose. Our party was free to do pretty much whatever they wanted, and the situations we got into off the beaten path are the stories we tell now. I know why this campaign feels better to me now. I’m letting the PC’s do what they will. Even if it’s not what I had planned for. Even if it’s stupid. Even if it will probably result in their eventual dismemberment, death, and reanimation as a zombie.
In short: I am blessed with a group of wildly creative players who are working well together as a group and I have finally realized everything works better if I just get the hell out of their way.
The stories we’ll collectively tell are infinitely more entertaining than any narrative I’d force down their throats. And, looking back, I believe that’s what the really good DM’s I’ve had did for me. It completely changed the game for me. That’s what I want to do for my group and anybody else I DM for down the road.
Great, Kid! Don’t Get Cocky.
Of course, simply realizing that one should just roll with things as they happen in-game is a lot different than actually rolling with actual things. There is still preparation to be done, though not of the kind I had been accustomed to. There were improvisational skills to be honed. Courage-loins to be girded.
I knew I could improvise and roll with anything — and I do mean anything – based on our unique experiences in the Nightmare Realm last year. I just wasn’t sure if I could react to what the players did in a sensible way. As it happens, that wasn’t the issue. I can do that.
What I can’t do is names. I can’t come up with names. I can’t remember names. Either I forget to write down names, or I don’t want the players to know I spawned the NPC they’re talking to out of the aether so I can’t risk scribbling the name I came up with on a piece of paper. That would be a tell. Of course, the fact that all the names I come up with on the fly are variations on “Stug”, “Bibbler”, “Bubbly Gordon”, and/or “Reeb Heeberbeeb” is probably a pretty good tell as well.
Another tell: I’ve noticed that a good 75% of the NPC’s I’ve tried to play on the fly wind up being kindly old men. I’ve tried to play mean old Mr. Wilson to the players Dennis the Menace, but each time the gentle old codger that I am destined to become wants to come out and play a little early. The PC’s have been treated to tea once and cookies twice. Yes, I know old people do other stuff besides baking. I like cookies, OK?
I Accidentally The Whole Improv
I ran face first into another learning experience this past week. Chris Perkins wrote a fantastic article on DM improvisation two weeks ago, and I read it the morning before our D&D session and proceeded to get thoroughly drunk on good feelings. I can improv anything! My players will tell a grand story! Top of the world, Pelor!
This was also the day we had a new player join the campaign. Second session of any tabletop RPG ever, her first being one mostly-combat night of 4e with our group months ago.
(Yes, now is the appropriate time to wrinkle your noses in anticipation for the horrors to befall her.)
The plot of our campaign revolves around retrieving stolen items, and the party frequently finds themselves at the merchant that fenced these items. We’d never established who sold the items to this merchant. In fact, I’d described the thief as a shadowy figure and set it up so that I might introduce him later.
Our new player decided to play a rogue. She joins up, and the party decides to visit the merchant. I decide it’d be funny to have the merchant chatting this new person up as if she’s a regular. Instantly, the rest of the party starts getting suspicious and somebody wonders aloud if she’s the thief.
I get inspired. She’s definitely the thief. She just didn’t know it until now. I’m *Improvising*.
About fifteen seconds of deer-in-the-headlights from our new player later, I realize what I just did. The party, thinking I’d set this up beforehand, is grilling her like they’re getting paid per question.
I’d been trying to make a concerted effort up to this point in the campaign to try to let people do what they will, but this was different. She didn’t know most of the backstory leading up to any of this. She didn’t put herself in this situation, I did, and it didn’t look like much fun. So I called for a break and took our new player aside and briefed her on what was happening after apologizing profusely for being a dumbass. She took it very well, fortunately, and I only took mild damage to my face and arms.
In all seriousness, the thing that I regret doing here was damaging the trust my group has in me as a DM. I like to push the limits of this, mostly because I don’t know what’s going to blow up in my face yet, but I feel like people are going to be a lot more likely to have fun and let loose if they’re pretty sure I’m not going to put them on the spot. Well, I take that back a little. Putting people on the spot can yield some awesome and fun results. Putting a new person who has barely played the game on a giant “we’re playing Fiasco and I just set up a scene where I cut your legs off with a machete” spot was a really stupid idea. I wasn’t thinking, I got cocky, and I didn’t put my players before my crazy idea. It’s not something I plan to do again soon.
There’s No “I” In Team (Unless That “I” Stands For “Improv”)
Sometimes I think the Internets are stalking me, because after a couple days of kicking myself over putting our new player through Surprise Improv Hell, Steven Townshend writes this incredible article on group storytelling. Go read it. Right now. Stop reading this and go read that. Done? OK, I’ll continue.
The core premise of that article? When you play D&D, you’re all on the same improv team. You’re all working together to tell a great story. Even if your character would be a jerk in a given situation, you don’t throw the group under the bus.
I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve seen situations in D&D where I wish people understood this simple idea. Chaotic Neutral characters that do stupid things because they’re random? Paladins drawing their weapons and threatening other PCs who do things they perceive as evil acts? QUIT DOING THAT CRAP. You’re not helping to tell a story. You’re not helping the team, and you’re probably being a jerk. This stuff has always annoyed me, and until now I never had the right words as to why.
This is another game-changing concept for me. This is how I will try to run every game for the rest of my days.
Have I mentioned I’ve been seriously loving playing D&D lately?
Photo Credit
Do Gamer Dads Dream Of 2:1 Sheep?
MANLY ENOUGH FOR ANY INFANT.
Being a father to a little baby was cool. He was all cute and snuggly and I loved the first words and the first steps and all that stuff. I remember getting Sam a “Level 1 Human” creeper and a couple nerdy onesies before he was born. One of the few perks of babies not being able to talk is that you can dress them in whatever you want without protest. Consequently, my kid has unwittingly displayed in his short time on this planet countless slogans, concepts, and characters from many nerdly sources. (Including one Celestial Porpoise onesie I designed when Stupid Ranger first started, which raised a few family eyebrows despite a great deal of well-reasoned logic about its utter manliness.)
Does The Konami Code Count As Operant Conditioning?
One thing that’s always been lurking in the back of my mind is whether all this geeky stuff is just a weird mold that he’ll eventually break. I remember thinking, he’s two. That Mario shirt is cute, Sam can even say “Mawio” when he sees it, but he doesn’t have any attachment to that character like I do. Am I just filling up his head with a bunch of crap he’ll just dump and replace with something real to him?
Now, my boy Sam is 4, and we can have conversations about stuff and tell jokes to each other and share what happened that day and play all freaking day and HOLY CRAP. IT ROCKS. THUNDEROUSLY. These days, Sam knows what’s on his shirt. Boy, does he know. Don’t try to send that kid to school in an Autobot t-shirt if he has declared it Robot Taco Shirt Day. At least, if you don’t want a war on your hands. He is familiar with the source material for pretty much everything he wears that has an associated game or TV show.
My favorite thing to do with Sam right now, which should surprise no one, is playing lots of old NES games on the Wii. I’m pretty sure he can tell it’s an older game, mostly because he asks me “Daddy, is this game old?” Even so, he still giggles and smiles and loves playing. It’s still colorful, it has cool music that makes him dance, and the characters are recognizable to him (perhaps the sole benefit of Hollywood remaking freaking everything!). I know a big part of why he loves this is because he’s spending time with me.
It is really cool to be a 4 year old’s dad. You are frequently super awesome in their eyes. [Read the rest of this article]
The Architect DM: The Ise Grand Shrine
I’ve sat through more hours of architectural history classes than seems reasonable for a human being, everything from the crude Dolmen tombs of early Europe to weeks of studying the various gothic cathedrals that all look pretty much the same. I never got the chance to take an asian architecture course, but one of the most memorable asian structures that I learned about was the Ise Grand Shrine.
The Shinto shrine complex located in the city of Ise in Japan features two main shrines, Naiku (the inner shrine) and Geku (the outer shrine), with 123 additional shrines in and around the city. The two main shrines are joined by a pilgrimage road, but access to both sites is very limited as they are some of the most important Shinto locations. The origin of the Ise Grand Shrine dates back to just over 2,000 years ago, and it was one of the few structures that really stood out to me during all of my architectural history classes.
Why am I talking about the Ise Grand Shrine here, in a series that focuses on helping you play in and run Roleplaying Games? I’m talking about it because I feel that real life is the best inspiration for your fictional adventures, and the Ise Grand Shrine is ripe with ideas to use in your games.
Ceremony
The two main shrines are dismantled and rebuilt on adjacent sites every 20 years. If you go and visit these sites now, you will see buildings constructed in 1993 that are the 61st iterations of the structures. This ceremony has many festivals that surround it and various celebrations at different dates leading up to the rebuilding based on necessary activities such as the carpenters preparing the wood for the next iteration of buildings. This rebuilding ceremony reflects the Shinto beliefs in the death and renewal of nature and impermanence.
One of the biggest reasons that I love applying this idea to RPGs is because it presents a very direct method for getting the inhabitants of a location to seek out the aid of adventurers. A ceremony such as the rebuilding of sacred shrines has many stages and various elements that the player’s may be able to help out with, or conversely any number of natural (or villainous) factors could impede the stages of the ceremony and cause the inhabitants to require aid.
Building Blocks for Rebuilding
Even though this example only consists of two main shrines (and a bridge) being rebuilt every 20 years, you can take this inspiration and apply it in any scale to your own games. Having an entire village that rebuilds itself every 100 years would be a very interesting place to explore, especially if there is a nefarious element such as a dragon that comes through each century that forces the relocation and reconstruction. Taking it in the other direction, you can have the residents of a town rebuilding a water tower or any other minor structure every couple of years.
Although the rebuilding of the Ise Shrines keeps them continuously new, it also serves to pass down the ancient design and construction methods from generation to generation. This ceremony is also a very interesting work around to the issue of historical preservation. While the buildings are never going to be ancient or historic in their materials or actual physicality, their design is preserved and every generation gets to experience them as they could have been experienced when originally constructed.
The key to including these ideas in your game is to consider what materials are needed for rebuilding the structures, how often they will be rebuilt, and how long it will take for the civilization to rebuild them. Even if we’re talking about a time span of a hundred years, it is still a reasonable assumption that the structures will be wood instead of stone as they would most likely last longer and would not benefit from being rebuilt regularly if built using stone. However, if you modify the ceremony and have the structure being moved piece by piece rather than rebuilt with new materials, it would make perfect sense for it to be a structure made out of stone.
Legend & Lore
The Ise Grand Shrine is very closely linked with the Japanese imperial family and with Japanese mythology, and it supposedly contains a piece of the Imperial Regalia known as the Sacred Mirror although the lack of public access makes this hard to confirm. This is as close to real life RPG plot material as you can get, and is another one of the reasons that this is the first example of architecture history that comes to mind for me to write about here.
Combine these elements with the pilgrimage road between the two shrines, and the complex of hundreds of smaller shrines, and you have a very rich location to use in anything from D&D with some adaptation or if you’re running a game like Legend of the 5 Rings you can use all of this information as it really exists.
Click here for the rest of the Architect DM series.
Pelor’s Florist
The natural world is full of wonders. That’s why we eat everything in it, and sometimes it eats us. The gods, being gods, take it upon themselves to mess with it when they get bored. This can go really wrong and then you get things like banana fungus, leprosy, Nickelback, and the Twilight series of books. Other times, it’s simple and beautiful, and you never even know it’s there. This is how the donut was born, and also the sweet-smelling Pelorbell flower.
The first Pelorbell flowers came to the Forgotten Realms long before anyone can remember, and only appear often enough that their legend continues. It’s said the flowers weren’t discovered, but rather the answer to a prayer — specifically, one about not being consumed alive by the undead.
By day, Pelorbells appear to be large, bright, white sunflowers. Their smell is sweet, not unlike lilac, and is said to gently calm the hearts of those nearby. By night, the flowers wither noticeably, to the point where it is difficult to tell if they still live. That is, unless they are exposed to light. Then, they bloom even larger than before, and radiate waves of their own silvery light.
No ordinary light is this, for it seems crafted for the express purpose of eradicating the unnatural damned. Those pure of intention who bathe in this light find their wounds healed and steel in their spine. Undead creatures, on the other hand find their rotting flesh burning off into oily smoke and their spines lying on the ground.
It’s unknown if the flowers are the product of powerful magic or if they are the physical manifestation of a god’s will, but their effects are potent indeed. One or two of these flowers planted outside a house shine sufficient light to keep its occupants safe for what would otherwise be a long night of horrors. The thought of yards and fields planted with Pelorbells is enough to give pause to even the most bloodthirsty dead-army-wielding necromancer.
In my D&D game last week, our intrepid adventuring party encountered just such a field (and undead army). And if, like them, you didn’t realize until it was far too late the lengths I will go to to make a Plants vs. Zombies joke….. then Pelor protect you.
Photo Credit
Torg: A Marvel Heroic Roleplaying Hack (Hacking the Datasheets)
After reading the Leverage and Smallville RPGs, I was tempted to base my Torg hack on Smallville, but once I had it in my hands, I knew that my hack needed to be based on Marvel Heroic Roleplaying. Torg ultimately is a cinematic game. It’s full of action, and while drama certainly can be part of Torg, it’s not inter-PC drama like in Smallville. Leverage ultimately wasn’t a great fit either since there are so many different archetypes in Torg, whereas Leverage features a team that where each person still has skills in all aspects of a con (though with different specialties).
Although my Torg hack is based on the Marvel Heroic Roleplaying rules, there are differences. Each Cortex Plus game needs to be altered differently to focus the important aspects of that game. Many of those differences are expressed in what goes into the dice pools that the players and the GM create. As far as Torg is concerned, the primary aspect that needs to be reflected well in the hack is the treatment of ‘reality’ and how it interacts with the characters.
Reality in Torg
First, I need to explain how the mechanics of causing contradictions in other realities worked in the original Torg game. If a character uses a tool: a spell, miracle, piece of tech or some sort of social concept, it causes a single contradiction if the axiom level of that tool is greater than either the character’s home reality or the reality that character finds herself in. In the original Torg game, the Everlaw of One disconnects the character from their home reality on a roll of 1 on a d20. However, if the axiom level of the tool is greater than both the character’s home reality and the reality she is in (a double contradiction), the disconnection occurs on a roll of 1-4. When the character is disconnected, she is unable to create any more contradictions and is completely subject to the reality she is in. When the disconnection occurs, the action fails and usually the character is pretty hampered in her abilities. However, all the character needs to do is reconnect on her next turn via a successful Reality skill check.
In the original Torg game, the combat rounds were very quick to resolve, and there usually were 5-10 rounds in each combat. Although disconnecting was infrequent, enough combat rounds occurred in a session that a character could expect to disconnect once or twice. Disconnecting meant that the character lost a lot of her abilities (either superpowers, magic, miracles, high tech) for a brief period of time and then gained them back. It may take a round or two though, if the Reality skill checks fail.
In my initial playtest of the contradiction rules for my Torg hack, I tried two methods. In the first method, if the character was causing a single contradiction, he added a d4 to the dice pool. A double contradiction added 2d4 to the pool. If an opportunity was rolled (a 1 on one of the dice), the GM had the option of activating that opportunity and inflicting Reality stress equal to the die that provided the opportunity. In the end, I decided this made it too difficult to disconnect (which would occur when “stressed out”), it was predictable, and it would take a few rounds for it to occur at all.
My second method was to actually treat disconnection as a Limit, which could be activated by the GM or the player. However, when I did so, it severely nerfed the character’s ability to do anything. In this case, the Ninja wasn’t able to use any of his technological devices or his Ninjitsu (martial arts requires a certain Social and Spiritual axiom level).
Now, this problem normally wouldn’t be too bad since the player could have just made an action vs. the Doom Pool to reconnect. However, one thing I’ve learned in running Marvel Heroic Roleplaying and my Torg hack is that the individual Action Scenes don’t necessarily last very long, so disconnecting could mean a major negative impact on a character for much of an Action Scene.
Ultimately what I decided to do is reflect the fact that in the original Torg, the characters got to do their schtick most of the time, and any disconnections were usually speed bumps. The way I imagined it was that a US Marine, fighting in the Living Land, shooting at some incoming velociraptors suddenly would find himself disconnected, his gun not working until he focused briefly and reconnected to Core Earth. This would provide an opportunity for the velociraptors to chow down on him, but it would be a brief opportunity. So the solution to my dilemma was to use part of the first playtest option and add one category to the datasheet that all characters have:
Contradiction
Single d4
Double 2d4
This solution simulates the original Torg game within the Cortex Plus framework. Disconnection can be a pain, but not one that eliminates the fun for the player.
Axiom Traits
Magic d4
Social d8
Spirit d6
Tech d10
During the first playtest, I tried just using the Affiliation trait from Marvel Heroic Roleplaying, but it didn’t feel right. In the comics, heroes often split off, join up or run solo, but in Torg it’s always been expected that the group sticks together. My feelings on this were confirmed when Rob Donoghue blogged about not using the Affiliation trait for MHR hacks. Instead I’m looking at a trait focusing on the interaction of the character with the four axioms of all realities: Magic, Social, Spirit and Tech.
These four axioms define all realities, and including them explicitly in the datasheets connects the character to the game more directly. Each axiom is associated with a d4, d6, d8 or d10 die, with one die for each axiom.
A d10 indicates that the character has a close connection with that axiom. Either he uses tools of that axiom instinctively, or at least knows how elements involving that axiom behave. For instance, a character with Magic d10 probably either uses arcane spells frequently, or at least is familiar enough with magic to know when it’s being used and how to react to it.
Conversely, a d4 indicates either inexperience with that axiom or that when using tools associated with that axiom, things get complicated for him. So a Social d4 could be a social misfit, or a coward. A Magic d4 indicates a character who has never been exposed to magic or could have weird things happen when he uses magic.
Although I’d considered using this trait earlier, I stopped thinking about it after reading Ryan Macklin’s blog post on “use whenever stats”. Although Rob Donoghue pointed out to me on Twitter that Cortex Plus pretty much assumes at least two “use whenever stats”, I felt it was better when the game didn’t use them (e.g. Smallville).
The solution came to me when I realized that I could force the reaction roll to use the same Axiom trait as the action roll that it was opposing. This would mean that there could be some tactical considerations when acting against a character. You might use your d8 trait if it was the d4 trait for your opposition. Plus, it directly ties in the fact that people who aren’t exposed to high axiom tools like powerful magic or amazing technology wouldn’t really know how to defend against it.
Distinctions
Distinctions work exactly the same as in Marvel Heroic Roleplaying: either a d8 if it helps or a d4 plus a Plot Point if it hurts.
Aspects
Aspects are the equivalent to Power Sets from Marvel Heroic Roleplaying. They are groups of power traits, limits and SFX organized on a theme. There are three different types of Aspects: Cosms, Ability Sets and Equipment.
1. Cosms
COSM
Nippon Tech (Axiom Limits: Magic 1 Social 16 Spirit 8 Tech 21)
SFX: Law of Intrigue. Add a d8 to your dice pool when attempting to be sneaky, deceive or bribe someone.
SFX: Law of Vengeance. If you have been seriously wronged, you may immediately replace one of your milestones with I WILL HAVE VENGEANCE.
Limit: Law of Profit If you do not have Business Master or Business Expert, acquiring a resource requires 2 PPs instead of one while in Nippon Tech.
MILESTONE – I WILL HAVE VENGEANCE
1 XP when you inflict stress on your enemy or interfere with his or her plans.
3 XP when you harm your team in your attempt to exact vengeance on your enemy.
10 XP when you kill or otherwise permanently defeat your enemy.
Each character not only includes a Cosm on their datasheet, but also is subject to the Cosm based on the reality they are currently in. Each Cosm lists the four axioms plus SFX and Limits based on the World Laws of that reality. Shown above is the Cosm entry for Nippon Tech.
In my hack, I am not using the axiom definitions from the original Torg boxed set, but revised definitions shown on Storm Knights, written by Jasyn Jones and “Kansas” Jim Ogle. Comparing the axioms of your tools or other abilities to those of the Cosm you’re from or in allows you to determine if Contradiction dice should be added to your dice pool.
The SFX and Limits from Cosm Aspects are situational, but for the most part are dealt with exactly the same way as they are in Marvel Heroic Roleplaying. However, some SFX involve replacing one of your Milestones with a new one, like I WILL HAVE VENGEANCE.
2. Ability Sets
NINJITSU
SUPERIOR REFLEXES d10 ENHANCED STAMINA d8
ENHANCED DURABILITY d8 INVISIBILITY d8
SFX: Block/Strike. When you are attacked in unarmed or melee combat, the attacker provides an opportunity on a roll of a 1 or a 2.
SFX: Ki Focus. If a dice pool includes a NINJITSU die, you may replace two dice of equal size with one die +1 step larger.
Limit: Exhausted. Shutdown any NINJITSU power to gain 1 PP. Recover power by activating an opportunity or during a Transition Scene.
Ability Sets are dealt with much like Power Sets in Marvel Heroic Roleplaying. However, because there may be more than two Aspects on a datasheet, you can only add a trait die from each Aspect up to a maximum of two.
Ability Sets usually involve abilities that are inherent to the character: specialized training, super powers, arcane spellcasting or the invocation of miracles. Sometimes there will be some overlap with Ability Sets and Specialties, but the trait dice included in Ability Sets represents specializations (e.g. Rifles vs. ‘Combat’).
One important difference between my Torg hack and Marvel Heroic Roleplaying is that Torg is a bit more ‘street level’ as far as power scale goes. Torg heroes aren’t controlling weather over scales the size of a state, or teleporting across the universe, or being able to hurl tanks into orbit. For most of the Power Set descriptions, I’ve eliminated the “Godlike” category, and moved “Superhuman” into the d12 rank. To replace “Superhuman,” I’ve made “Superior” the new d10 rank.
3. Equipment
EQUIPMENT
LAR Grizzly 50 Big Boar Rifle d10 (Tech 20; Accurate)
Herod IV Pistol d8 (Tech 21; Full Auto)
Magic Sword d8 (Tech 7, Magic 9)
Kevlar Vest d8 (Tech 20)
SFX: Accurate. If a pool includes a die from an Accurate weapon, you may replace two dice of equal size with one die +1 step larger.
SFX: Full Auto. If a pool includes a die from a Full Auto weapon, add a d6 and keep an additional effect die for each additional target.
Limit: Gear. Gain 1 PP and shutdown Equipment you are using. Make an action against the Doom Pool to recover.
Equipment is a set of Traits, SFX and Limits representing signature items that the character uses on a frequent basis. These items can include tech, magic spells or miracles. Since the tools your character uses have an impact on whether or not you are creating a contradiction, each item in your Equipment list has an axiom level associated with it. Some of these tools will have keywords (e.g. Accurate or Full Auto) that will reference SFX.
I’m still working with exactly how this section works, at least as far as magic spells and miracles go, but I’ll elaborate on that in a future post.
Specialties
Specialties in my Torg hack are mostly the same as in Marvel Heroic Roleplaying. There are some changes (though they may be set in Jello):
- Cosmic is replaced by Reality and covers knowledge about the nature of realities, the cosmverse and probably will be involved in whatever mechanic I decide on to deal with reality storms.
- Mystic is replaced by Arcane, Faith and possibly Occult. Faith will be specific to a certain religion.
- Survival and Weird Science are new Specialties.
Milestones
Finally, Milestones are handled exactly the same way as they are in Marvel Heroic Roleplaying. In fact, Milestones replicate the mechanics of subplots from the original Torg game well.
Pain of Publication: Ninja Testing
Like many aspiring writers, I lack the luxury of being able to dedicate a full-time portion of my life to these endeavors. So, I have to make my time work for me. I have been eager to run Marvel Heroic Roleplaying in its finished form, but have not yet found a suitable occasion to do so. This post explores the pitfalls and potential of using an unorthodox method of giving a new system a spin. Switching systems in an established campaign should be an opportunity for all participants to examine what propels their campaign, learn the benefits of a new system, and get out of a gaming rut.
Having successfully been a Guest GM before and having been inspired by excellent posts on using Marvel to power a fantasy-based system, I decided to try something odd. I sensed my normally tireless DM was getting burned out in Pathfinder, so I offered to take over for a few adventures. The group was pretty positive about a change of pace, but there was a lot of surprise when I said I was going to run the same characters, the same world, in campaign continuity with a different system. My own character is being removed from the action, and the DM’s “Dungeon Master Player Character” (DPC) will be used as a player by our typical DM. This all begs the question: why go through all the trouble to change the system from my group’s perspective? I want to try it out, but I owe it to my playgroup to have a “payoff.” That payoff is to give the group a completely different feel of the game and scope of the adventure. [Read the rest of this article]
30 Ranks In Use Trope
We’ve all been there. The campaign has slowed to a crawl, morale is low, and players are getting more and more physically violent with every session. Soon, the blood-harvest comes. As a DM, you already know none of this is your fault. However, as the sovereign of your gaming group it is your right, nay, holy duty to return the light of goodness, truth, and the Gygaxian Way to your table. Allow me to assist.
Spunky Sunshine Mephit
Some DM’s, myself included, find a familiar albatross around their neck in the form of the same tired old plots week after week. There’s nothing worse than having the D&D equivalent of Spaghetti Thursdays at your gaming table.
What your game needs is a little help… or should I say, a little helper?
One commonly used tactic in many popular TV shows over the years is to add a cute and sassy kid to the mix to freshen things up. Let’s call this kid Cousin Olefar.
Always brave and daring, but just too darn spunky to have any regard for the well-being of any creature, Cousin Olefar can brighten up even the dullest combats. Now every combat has an exciting secondary objective!
Just imagine how the players would feel if they let the cute little bugger die.
Jumping The Bulette
Your players are probably bored with the standard fare of mystery, exploration, exciting combat, and deep roleplay. They can get that anywhere. You should give them something cooler. Remember the early seasons of Happy Days when it was boring and about stupid stuff American life and emotions? Remember when all the girls got anachronistic perms and Fonzie started getting superpowers he could invoke with a simple “AYYYY?”
That’s what you can do for your campaign. It works, too. Historically, the best campaigns are the ones where about halfway through, you drop everything and decide that you already know what’s going to happen. You tease your players incessantly about it for about 2 weeks beforehand, even dropping little hints about “wormsign” and “the likes of which God has never seen.” Everything leads up to a super exciting moment that you’ve been dreaming of for so long, and it’s gonna be so cool, and you don’t even need game mechanics you just make it happen.
When everybody sees the mage (with a brand new perm) riding bareback atop a half-lich bulette tarrasqueomancer through no real conscious choice of his own after an unlikely but charming sequence of events, they’ll all understand it was worth it.
Then you blow up the PC’s lair and have a guy from Murphy Brown chase them through time. Aww yeah.
Fuggedaboutit
Another fantastic TV trope you can use in your campaign is the old “amnesia caused by a bonk on the head” trick. I recommend you invoke this every time a player takes damage or fails a DEX check.
No metagaming, players! You’ll need to take another bonk on the head to remember who you are. Also, if a monster uses Claw / Claw / Bite, you may think of it as Forget / Remember / Forget.
Freaky Friday Night Magic
How many times over the years in movies and TV has a magic spell been cast or a lever been pulled causing characters to swap bodies? Countless. And it’s a thing of beauty every single time. Every DM should do this to their players at least twice in a given campaign.
Fun fact: skills, spellcasting ability, and weapon/armor proficiencies don’t transfer along with a person’s consciousness. Just their voice, memories, and a schedule that really isn’t conducive to having another person at the wheel much less a dwarf NOW I’LL NEVER GET MARRIED.
It’s science.
Quest For The Closet Of Elemental Water
PC’s never fear death anymore. Not with healing surges and resurrection and rings of regeneration all ready and waiting to save their imaginary butts.
Solving this issue means gleaning dark knowledge from the vilest master of terror that ever whitened a hair or startled an innocent puppy — Wakko Warner. To know true fear, a PC needs to be faced with a fate worse than death. A potty emergency.
Everybody always wants to know the secret of making 4e combat run fast and exciting. If every PC has an overfull bladder and cursed pants they can’t remove until they find and defeat the end boss of the dungeon, this problem is now officially solved.
Be warned, there are some minor mechanical issues to work out if you decide to go this route. For instance, who can say if the PC’s should be making Fort checks, Will checks, or a combination of the two to avoid certain embarassment and chafing. Regardless, I recommend making this check every 5 minutes of actual time, starting the DC at 0 and raising it by 5 after each check.
Bonus Tip: in the original Oriental Adventures book from TSR, there is a Wu Jen spell called Urine to Acid. Use this in the event that your players still fail to become excited at these new developments.
Photo Credit
Special thanks to TvTropes.org (especially their “Random” button) for all the article ideas and for straight up murdering my productivity for many years.
And yes, you can probably blame Chatty for this too.
