Arneson’s version of Challenge Rating

One of the more fascinating bits of information to be gleaned from Tonisborg is a section which reveals Arneson’s methodology of stocking dungeons. For those of us who have used Moldvay as our go-to guide for creating dungeons, we might expect an Arneson dungeon to have monsters in about one third of all rooms. If you are exploring dungeon levels 3-6, this is exactly what you would find; however, only 1-in-6 rooms on dungeon levels 1 and 2 have monsters and half of the rooms on dungeon levels of 7+ are occupied.

Each room that has monsters is assigned what are called “Protection Points” — a randomly determined amount of hit points that are used to “buy” monsters with. As described in Tonisborg, the number of Protection Points are based on an average party size of 4 to 5 PCs. Unfortunately, I found the table provided to be a bit confusing, but was able to take the concept and the described math to provide a very simple metric for determining the number Arneson’s Protection Points:

(1d6+1)(Dungeon Level) per PC*

*This assumes that that HD are based on a d6. This die would shift depending upon what the standard HD is according to the edition used.

Thus, if I were stocking the second level of my dungeon, I would be rolling 2d6+2 Protection Points for each PC in the party. So, if my party had 3 PCs the total number of Protection Points would be 6d6+6.

Additionally, Arneson had a “one sixth principle of monster variation.” On top of the dice rolled above, an extra d6 is rolled. Should that d6 result in a ‘6,’ there is a 50/50 chance that the number of points are halved or doubled.

Thus, in the example above, an average roll would result in 27hp; this would be halved to 14 hp or doubled to 54 hp with a ‘6’ on the variation die.

I have yet to try this method at the table, but in principle it does several things: 

1) It clearly sets up the expected danger of each dungeon level while allowing for some encounters to be surprisingly easy or hard. 

2) It despenses with the need to roll for the number of monsters encountered or for hit points. Both are simply assigned based on the number of Protectin Points avaible. In a way, it frees up the Referee to more exactly tailor their dungeon.

For example, our room on the second level has 27 Protection Points. This can be a typical encounter of 2HD monsters like 3 gnolls with 9 hp each. Or, it could be a bit more ridiculous with 27 goblins with 1 hp each. Or it could be a bit more chellenging with a single 5HD creature like a griffin with 27 hp. 

3) It allows for a kind of short hand when designing/stocking a dungeon. I can simple indicate the number of protection points each occupied room has and assign these points to monsters on the fly depending on whim, need, or random roll. It gives me the freedom to adjust some of the difficulty of a room by increasing or decreasing the number of potential attacks. For example, if I wanted to buy gnolls with my 27 Protection Points and my party needed a bit more of a challenge, I can increase the number of gnolls to 9 with 3 hp each; however, the overall deadliness of nine gnolls is somewhat mitigated by the fact that each will die from average hit from a PC.

This is an idea that seems far more practical than Challenge Levels and their equivalants in the modern game. It will also be something I will have to experiment with to see how it actually plays. Nonetheless, fascinating stuff!

  

What to Buy Instead of WotC's "The Making of Original D&D"

For several years I have avoided giving WotC my hard earned money. I have patiently waited for the rest of the world to wake up and do the same. Today, I wish to be much more specific and proactive.

WotC recently announced the publication of The Making of Original D&D in honor of the 50th Anniversary of the Game. It is currently available for pre-order on Amazon for about $100. Please do not order this product. In the years that followed my open letter to WotC about their warning label on legacy products, not only have they not removed their label, but have gone on to treat their customers, fans, and even their own employees with contempt and malice. We don't need WotC or Hasbro in order to play and grow our game.

If, like me, you are interested in a product that explores the origins of the game in fascinating and applicable ways, I encourage you to spend your money in a much more responsible way and be treated to a fascinating and highly useful book: The lost Dungeons of Tonisborg.

If you don't mind giving Amazon some of your money,
you can pick up a paperback edition for a mere $30. 

This book has history, facsimiles of a dungeon designed and played prior to the publication of D&D, an updated version of that same dungeon, a guide on how to play the game as it was prior to 1974, and (best of all) a set of rules based upon the way Arneson and Gygax ran the game. This is amazing stuff and a treat for anyone interested in the history of the game.

For those of you who have it, what is the rule that blew your mind the most? For me, it was the idea of rolling up a character's base saving throws randomly!

Again, let WotC rot and spend money on people who actually care about this game and its history. 

Saintly Saturday: St. Anysia the Virgin Martyr of Thessalonica

(Yesterday was) the Feast of the Virginmartyr Anysia of Thessalonica. Although I had every intention of writing about this yesterday, life got in the way of me having the time, so I am up early today to get these thoughts down.

Anysia lived during the reign of Maximian (A.D. 286-305). She was raised in a pious Christian home and dedicated her life to strict fasting, vigil and prayer after the death of her parents. During the persecution of Christians under Maximian, it was decreed that anyone had the right to kill Christians with no consequences. During this period, Anysia was on her way to church when she was stopped by a pagan soldier. He demanded that she accompany him to a sun festival and offer sacrifice. When she demurely declined, he began to be aggressive. She then spit in his face and declared that, “My Lord Jesus Christ forbids you!” He immediately drew his sword and ran her through.

Christians secretly gathered up her remains and buried her near the city gates. Eventually, a chapel was built over her grave.

There are a couple of FRPG tropes that come to mind when I read the life of St. Anysia: Murder Hobos and Temple Street. Interestingly, her story offers a way of dealing with the first and a refutation of the latter.

Way back when I first starting DMing my group of friends in Jr. High, our very first session was very short. The TPK happened as the PCs were gathering info about the adventures in the area when the thief decided to be a pick pocket. He failed miserably. The City Guard showed up and the party decided that they could fight their way out of the problem. Didn’t happen. My friends were upset, until I explained why their characters couldn’t behave that way and we rolled up a new party which went on to adventure for several years.

The story of Anysia reminds of that, but offers a rather dark twist to the tale as well as a very interesting challenge. Long-time readers know that I love Arneson’s 1 xp = 1 gp of treasure spent. This necessitates players to interact with the world in ways that would not normally happen because they need to creatively get rid of their treasure in order to advance in levels. What if, however, the town or city that was most readily available declared that certain PC classes or races were illegal and could be killed on site? On the one hand, it would offer Murder Hobos all the excuse they need to go on a killing spree, but to what end? All the gold they might get from such an endeavor would be useless. On the other hand, threat of immediate death coupled with the need to get rid of gold to get higher levels might just prove to create a whole new level of creativity as players figure out ways to game the system.

As a kid I never really read any of the popular fantasy stuff that everyone else did. As the guy who usually had to be DM, I liked to go to books that no one had read so that I could have a unique source of ideas that players could be surprised by, rather than having full knowledge of the source material and ruining some of the surprises. One of my favorite of these books was The Seven Altars of Dusarra by Lawrence Watt-Evans. It played hard to the fantasy trope of Temple Street, where our hero, Garth of Ordunin, had to steal objects from the altars of each of the seven temples in the city of Dusarra.

This is great stuff, if you are aping the classic tales of REH, CAS, etc. While one might find such a situation in places like medieval India, there are very few historical examples of Temple Street in the medieval world that is suggested by most FRPGs. The reality is far more likely to be like the story of St. Anysia where Christians found an out of the way place and worshiped in relative secrecy. The medieval world is dominated by monotheistic (or singular) religions and adherents of other faiths live their religious lives quietly and out of the way.

While this may not be as exciting as Temple Street, it does give opportunities for adventure. Adventure locations can be built around different eras of different dominant faiths and the treasure or location the party is after could be a grave hidden near a gate by a religious group now out of favor by the powers that be.

Dave Arneson and SWCL

For those of you who have read this blog over the years, it should be no surprise that I am a huge fan of the Dave Arneson rule of 1 gp spent = 1 xp. In my experience, this motivates players to take ownership of the world their characters inhabit. For example, in my Lost Colonies campaigns the following places exist because players spent money to bring them into being:

Headwaters

• A Tavern that specializes in stirge meat.
• A cheese factory
• A camel farm
• A monastery and chapel
• A stone and statue garden
• An abandoned dwarven home

The Road from Headwaters to Trisagia

• A stone toll bridge manned by half-giants

Trisagia

• A merchant company the specializes in shipping

The Elflands

• A cathedral with an illuminated text

Note that only the last one qualifies as a standard Stronghold in B/X terms. I really love this stuff because it enriches the campaign world in a way that I could never do purely on my own. These places have been adventure fodder and/or direct results of adventures. Each one has multiple stories attached to it. I firmly believe none of these would exist if it weren’t for Dave Arneson’s rule of 1 gp spent = 1 xp. As a consequence, whenever I run into a version of D&D that does not use it, I try to find an easy way to shoehorn it in.

Enter SWCL. I actually love the leveling mechanic of this game: complete a given number of sessions/adventures and you level. No math, no trying to assign experience value to non-combat encounters, just go on adventures and be done with it. This idea is so elegantly simple I am actually loathe to mess with it; however, I am also loathe to get rid of the incentive for players to invest in all of the kind of world-building goodness that the Arneson rule has produced in my games.

Thus, I propose an Optional Rule for SWLC:

In order for an adventure to be considered “complete,” a character must spend at least half of the treasure gained from that adventure.

Thus, if my character’s share of the booty is 20 gp because we overlooked the real treasure trove, I need to spend 10 gp to complete that adventure in terms of gaining levels. If that booty is 2000 gp (because we went back and found the hidden treasure chest) I now have to figure out a way to spend 1000 gp.

Towards an Arnesonian XP System Without the Gold

Anyone familiar with my musings on how to run a campaign is well aware of my long love-affair with Arneson’s rule of 1 gp of treasure spent = 1 xp. It is genius and it is the mechanical engine that makes a sandbox-style game purr. Handing over agency to a group of players is one of the true pleasures I have as a Referee because it guarantees an experience that I cannot get by writing short stories, novellas or novels: utter surprise. I had no idea stirge meat was a delicacy in the Lost Colonies until my players decided to ask a friendly monster NPC to cook one up. To this day, this fact and all of the various consequences that are derived from this fact are some of my favorite features of the Lost Colonies campaign world.

There is, however, one glaring weakness in Dave Arneson’s xp house rule: it assumes a gold-based economy in a post-apocalyptic world where treasure hunting is an inexpensive but lucrative (if dangerous) endeavor. It won’t work in the Third Imperium. Whereas there is a lost, ancient civilization, the locations of these ruins are often tightly controlled secrets or in places that are cost prohibitive to get to. In addition, the stuff that can be found is generally cultural and/or scientific, not monetary.

One of the reasons B/X is the one RPG I would choose if I could only ever play one RPG for the rest of my life is because it best expresses (and allows for) the madness of a sandbox campaign and players armed with the near-complete agency Arneson’s xp rule grants. One of the reasons I don’t regularly Referee games like Traveller, Call of Cthulhu and Champions is that these genres and systems lend themselves much less easily to the sandbox campaign (not that they can’t).

The discussion that followed my most recent rant about 5e and xp got me thinking about how it might be possible to marry the madness of Arneson’s xp rule and a sandbox campaign to another genres where Arneson’s assumptions about the world do not or cannot exist.

At the root of this whole issue is player agency. The way in which Arneson’s rule empowers players to advance exactly how they want to is a marvel to behold. The surprise factor and the world-building and world-altering factors are huge. Therefore, here is a stab in the dark at a framework upon which to build an experience system that could potentially give me the same kind of satisfaction in other games and genres that I get from Arneson + B/X:

There are six different methods of earning experience:

1. Party Campaign Goal: This is a task the players set for themselves as a group. The expected time necessary to complete this task should be around the 2-5 session mark. For example: The party decides that it wants to figure out where the Tomb of Horrors is located. This would have a value of 2(x) for each character where x is an arbitrary number used consistently throughout this thought experiment.
2. Player Campaign Goal: This is a task that the player sets for their character alone. Again, this is something they should expect to take 2-5 game sessions to complete. For example: The ranger decides that he wants to take out 20 orcs, while the Magic-user wants to visit the Great Library in the Capital City. Again, this would have a value of 2(x).
3. Party Mission Goal: Similar to the Party Campaign Goal, but is something the party wants to accomplish over the course of a single session. For example: The party wants to get to the Village of Sages in order to find out the most likely place to find a map associated with the Tomb of Horrors. This would have a value of (x) for each character.
4. Player Mission Goal: Similar to the Player Campaign Goal, but is something the player wants to accomplish over the course of a single session. For example: The Cleric wants to cast three utility spells that actually help the party. This would have a value of (x).
5. Secret Player Goal: This is something to help me notch up the surprise factor for both players and referee. All of the above goals are assumed to be public knowledge so that everyone has a chance to negotiate with the other players to maximize their ability to gain experience. At the beginning of each session, the player’s also write down a goal their character has for the session that no one else is privy to, including the Referee. At the end of the session, these goals are revealed to the table and experience is granted for those who pull it off. This would have a value of (x).
6. Referee Discretion/Secret Goal: This is also an attempt to up the surprise factor. The Referee could hand out (x) experience to players who showed exceptional bravery/cleverness/role-playing etc. and/or at the start of the session, the Referee could secretly write down a goal they hope the party accomplishes over the course of that session. This, too, would be worth (x) experience.

I think this would allow enough flexibility to just about any genre to pull off a sandbox campaign as well as offer enough structure to allow players to feel empowered on how their characters advance through the system and the campaign.

I'm Back and Playing (and Ranting About) 5e

For those of you who don’t know, I have not been playing anything for a number of years now. My youngest was in and out of the hospital for about three years battling for her little life and we have been struggling to find what can only be called a new normal.

When things began to settle down, I found that the group that I had played with had moved on in life, as so often happens. Some began families and have to deal with the time realities that such an endeavor requires, some left town to go to school or back to school and one even went off to the military. Thus, I really haven’t done anything with this hobby let alone something worth blogging about.

Recently, however, my oldest got together with a bunch of her friends and asked me to be a GM for their group. The system of choice was D&D 5e. As a consequence, I got my hands on the core books for the first time. The Basic 5e .pdf release from a few years back did nothing to convince me that I should fork over $40 for a Players Handbook let alone $120 for all three core books.

As I wrote back then, when I took a hard look at the free .pdf release, there are things to like about the new system; however, all of them are things that can easily be grafted onto my (still) favorite version of the game: B/X and its clone Labyrinth Lord.

Now that I have had the core books in my hands and have had to use them at the table, I can with certainty proclaim that they most definitely are not worth $40 for a PH let alone $120 for all three core books. What surprises me, however, is that this declaration has less to do with the system itself, and more to do with the way the game is written, laid out and typeset.

These books are really hard to use. The visual style is chaotic, confusing and hard to read. The best of the bunch is the PH and its a nightmare. The page numbers are not only too small, but are a light color on top of another color. The index requires a magnifying glass. I have yet to really understand the logic of why the book is laid out and ordered the way that it is. For example: races aren’t alphabetical, but the classes are?

While I will admit that the DM Guide does have a bunch of useful information for a beginner, a good chunk of that advice runs counter to my own predilections. The only reason for me to own that book is the magic section and (especially since I own several versions of the game with their own better organized version of magic items) $40 is way too much.

Lastly, I despise the monster stat block. It is visually cluttered and overly complicated. For someone who has written and typeset modules, my least favorite part of the process is monster stat blocks. Swords & Wizardry has the best, and even then it is still a task. 5e requires all six characteristic scores and their bonuses!? Put that mess on top of all the ridiculous artsy crap that fills every single page of the MM and you have something that I would prefer to use as a fuel for a fire rather then something I have at the table. It gives me a headache just thinking about it.

So, yeah, the only book I’d be tempted to buy is the PH and only if I could find a deal that would put it in the $20 range. Even then, it would only be used as a reference so that I could typeset my own more table friendly version. Fortunately, I can do that legally now (and I may not even ever have to purchase a core book to do it!).

Systemically, I am going to do my best to play this particular campaign according to the book so that I can see how it plays, with one major exception: the XP rules. Just no. I can appreciate the faster progression at lower levels (especially given the fact that I am working with a group of young teenagers used to the instant gratification of cell phones, the internet and video games). What I can’t abide is that it is has everything to do with killing stuff (or accomplishing missions if you use the alternative options in the DMG) and nothing to do with gold for xp.

I cannot say enough about Dave Arneson’s 1 gp of treasure spent = 1 xp. It does such an incredible job of emulating a character investing in himself or herself. It also places almost all of the agency of how a character progresses through the game into the hands of the players.

For example: Lets pretend that there is a dragon with a requisite hoard living in close proximity to the PCs.

In 5e the only way to get experience points out of this reality is to kill the dragon unless the GM is kind enough to give you a mission associated with the dragon hoard. In other words, the only agency the players have is whether or not to risk going up against a dragon.

If one uses the Dave Arneson formula, the players are in almost complete control of how the existence of this dragon and its hoard will affect their advance in levels. They can kill the dragon, they can steal from the dragon, they can go on other adventures get enough treasure to do research about how to hide from or defeat or capture a dragon (which would mean getting experience points by spending that treasure), etc. Once they get whatever amount of treasure they want from that hoard, the players get to decide how that treasure is used to express how their character gets to the next level. They can go on a massive bar crawl, they can invest in cargo that will be traded for by merchants hired by the characters, they can begin building a house/temple/castle/bridge/bar/whatever, they can buy a fancy outfit to go visit the king, etc. How the character spends that treasure says a lot about who they are and that choice and agency is almost entirely in the hands of the player — not the game, not the system and not the GM.

So, using the training rules from 1e, I determined that the average price of advancing to the next level from 1st-9th level (when training is necessary) is approximately 36% of the total needed for that level. Thus, the one house rule I am using in this campaign is that players must spend a minimum amount of treasure equal to a third of the required xp to gain a level. In other words, if a 1st level character stole 300 gp from the aforementioned dragon hoard and spent it, they would gain a level. If that same 1st level character defeated a group of goblins worth 300xp, they would be stuck at 1st level until such time that they found 100gp and spent it.

I will grant that this has less player agency than I would like, but it is the only way I am going to be able to experience the 5e level progression while teaching these kids about player agency.

Now, despite all my curmudgeonly griping, I do think that 5e has a lot to offer the game and I look forward to seeing what works, what doesn’t and what modular bits and pieces I steal for my default Labyrinth Lord game.

Meditating on 5e (Basic Rules)

PLEASE NOTE: As of now, all my musings on 5e are going to be about the Basic Rules (which I will refer to as 5eBR from now on). When one has a child in the hospital for the better part of a year, one’s gaming budget is Free. I have no ability anytime in the near future to actually purchase any of the core rulebooks. I may never do so.

I really want to like 5eBR. I really do. It is a really good hack of D&D and there are several interesting ideas that I will be hacking into my own hacked version of D&D. Unfortunately, I cannot bring myself to like 5eBR as is. It all comes down to a theatrical concept called suspension of disbelief.

When putting on a theatrical production, it is critical that the world presented have some kind of internal logic so that when presented with things such as the Battle of Agincourt from Shakespeare’s Henry V— something that could never happen within the confines of a theatre stage — the audience can easily immerse themselves in that world. They suspend their disbelief that the battle can’t occur on stage.

RPGs operate in a similar fashion. Everyone who plays D&D, for example, should know that the world presented defies all kinds of economic, physical and social logic. However, the rules do such a good job of representing a fantasy world in the abstract that we have successfully suspended our disbelief for decades.

Upon reflection, the moment I knew I didn’t like 3.5 was the moment my suspension of disbelief was shattered. Our party stumbled upon a machine that was built/controlled by the bad guys. It was a giant clock work of gears. We wanted to literally throw a wrench into the works; however, we did not have a rogue and the gear system was the equivalent of a DC25 trap. No matter what our party did, no matter how logical, no matter that it would work in the real world no one in our party could stop those gears from turning. I could no longer immerse myself in the world and I found, rather, that I was just seeing how illogical and silly it all was.

When the DM section of 5eBR was released, I decided to “play” the game the only way I could: stock a dungeon and see how it compared to the editions I like to play. I quickly realized that I couldn’t. There are no treasure tables. I then realized why WotC would be so lazy as to not include any: all XP comes from combat. Treasure is largely irrelevant.

This seriously challenges my ability to suspend disbelief: in order to become a better mage, cleric or thief you have to go kill stuff. The world presented isn’t a world where adventurers explore ruins from lost civilizations. Rather, it is a murder world where prowess in combat is everything. I suppose if you wanted to run a campaign inspired by Glen Cook’s The Black Company this would be okay, but this certainly isn’t the game I played as a kid.

What really threw my suspension of disbelief out the window was the combination of XP progression and the amount of XP given per kill. I have no real issue with fast XP progressions, especially in context of not having the kind of time necessary to take a character from 1st to 9th level (something I never did using older rule sets). Personally, this really never bothered me because my favorite “tier” of play is 1st-3rd; however, I could see how shortening the XP progression could be a very good thing.

Having said that, the world 5eBR presents completely breaks down when considering the amount of XP given per combat kill. A measly little goblin is worth 50 XP, a bandit 25 XP and a commoner 10 XP. At 300 XP to get to 2nd level, it would take 6 goblins, 12 bandits or 30 commoners to advance. This defies logic, because those kinds of numbers should be achievable through basic training — especially in a murder world where even scholarly mages need to kill things to be a better mage.

This is rendered even less logical when one realizes that Soldier is one of the backgrounds available to 1st level characters. A professional soldier in a world where combat is a constant should be plowing through the equivalent of 6 goblins almost every day during training, let alone if one actually participated in some kind of military campaign. Add to that the idea a 1st level character could be an officer and the 5eBR world just spirals off into the ridiculous.

I suppose that if the average age of a 5eBR 1st level character were, say, eight I might be able to accept all of the above, but I don’t really get off on imaging a character as an eight year old kid who is forced to murder things in order to get by.

For me, this all highlights the genius of Arneson’s 1 XP = 1 gp spent. Regardless of the world in which such a scheme exists, the main impetus for characters to advance from 1st to 2nd level is getting enough cash to invest in themselves — whether through better equipment, better henchman, tithing to a church, a down payment on a house, etc. Thus, each character can become a renaissance man (woman) in their own unique way and believably face down tougher and tougher monsters and win.

It also becomes believable that an army of commoners will still be commoners after a series of battles. When treasure spent is the main way one gets to 2nd level (because otherwise someone would have to kill 100+ goblins), war is no longer the main way a bunch of normal joes can become high-powered adventurers. Only folks willing to explore ruins, lost civilizations and dungeons to bring back treasure get to do that.

Lost Colonies Session 42

This session started out with a decision by fiat on my part. No one was particularly interested in fighting 2,000+ ghouls, especially since Dn. Goram's player was unable to be with us. I ruled that with the head start the players could get on the oncoming ghoul horde and with the party including one cleric able to turn ghouls automatically and one the could turn on a 3 or more, the party could escape. They boarded the elven sky galley and raced back to the Summer Court.

Assuming that the Winter King had an answer for dealing with the ghoul horde bearing down on the elflands (since he was responsible for creating it in the first place), the party rushed off to the underwater city in order to deliver the Obsidian Hand to the Winter King. They began to question the wisdom of their actions when the Winter King immediately chopped off his own hand in order to replace it with the one the party provided him.

The Winter King's transformation was a painful one, but once complete he seemed to believe that his affliction could no longer affect elven kind — because he claimed no longer to be an elf. He then explained that he needed to inform the elves that he was no longer the Winter King. When informed of the ghoul horde, he quietly acknowledged his part in its creation and vowed to help stop it.

Completely uninterested in getting embroiled in elf politics or in a battle with the ghouls, the party decided to stay underwater and go treasure hunting. So, the rest of the evening was spent doing an unusual dungeon crawl with everything underwater. And the party found treasure. Lots of it.

Two observations:

1. Phantasmal Force, when used correctly, can be devastating. The party ran into a magic using fishman and his guards. He created the illusion of a gigantic eel that attacked the party. It "killed" Swibish and his dwarven henchman before the party even thought about disbelieving.
2. I use a house rule on XP for gold attributed to Arneson — I only award the XP once the gold has been spent. When characters come across large treasure troves like this one, it creates an interesting dynamic — how are they going to spend so much money? One answer that my party has come up with is to use the treasure as capital to invest in building projects. Ahkmed has started to build a home. Pawnshee has started a cheese factory and Hamlen had built and staffed a tavern. I have encouraged this because it invests the players in the game world itself, which is then transformed by their economic ventures. These projects only go so far, however. As we wrapped up the evening's fun, the party remembered that they had a map showing where the cloud giant kingdom was. They ended by deciding that they were going to go there and see if the giants had some exotic items that they could purchase for some serious cash. Arneson's house rule has resulted in an adventure I never would have come up with on my own.