Encounter, a Must-Read Zine for Old School D&Ders

Jesse Walker from Down Under has just put out the third issue of his magazine, Encounter. As a contributor to this issue and the last I probably should feel some conflict of interest in pimping it, but I became a contributor in the main because I dug the first issue so much.

For starters, reading Encounter is a nice contrast to the info-glut nature of much OSR material (for sure one of the better kinds of “problems” to have). Layout is nice and crisp and the content nicely edited down to a manageable 28 pages. Regular features give nice run downs and reviews of new and old OSR products—and little blurby quotations of some of the more interesting and/or provocative comments coming out of the blogosphere.

Further each issue has something I want to steal whether it be as straightforward as a mini-dungeon or as quirky as Latin names for magic-user and cleric spells (I mean damn, who wouldn't rather be casting “Calefacere Metallum” over “Heat Metal”?).

And did I mention that each issue is the “right price”: free. All three issues can be downloaded here . 

Introducing Mystery and Legend into a Sandbox Campaign, Part II

Picking up from my previous post...

What I do is this (HC players, again, “ear muffs”)...whenever I have the glimmer of an idea in a game or between sessions about a new event, NPC, object, locale, etc. I write it down on an index card. Side one is Bachmann's first layer (“Knowing only the topic, only that it exists”), usually a sentence or two like “with the waxing of the red moon this month, strange flying creatures with leathery wings may be seen with increasing frequency at night.”

On the second side I put layer two info (“Dictionary or atlas-level clues”) about the hook that a PC may either know or can casually pick up in town if she is interested such as “when the second moon is closing on full it is often noted that these creatures fill the skies. More and more of these critters have been noticed as of late.”

I then very deliberately file the card away and stop thinking about it. Note this NOT thinking about it is very important order to head off that too familiar impulse to over-create elements that will never be used that can drive a sandbox campaign GM bat-shit crazy (or turn him into a railroading bastard). It also allows me mental space to create lots and lots of potential little bits to bounce off—between sessions I often write at least 3-5 such cards--leaving me quite a stockpile over the past year of play.

Before each session I will often pore over the cards to see if the players are in a potential position to trigger any of them (if I remember a trigger may happen during the session). “So they are likely to be camping out in the hills on their way to the Slumbering Ursine Dunes,” I think. “So very likely that they would notice the red moon and said flying critters.” Pull the card and so on down the line with any more cards that may come into play this session.

If a card is pulled, time to figure out the next couple levels. Level three (“Increasingly detailed information, yet not enough to determine the truth or relevance”) “The creatures are the souls of the dead flying up from the Underworld from where unwitting adventurers unlock them from.” Which on level four (“clues allow a player to evaluate and judge the truth or relevance”) is “False. They are really flying mutant fungoids from the red moon proper.”

Does this whole process matter to the players on their way to and fro the dungeon they are looting? No, not unless they care themselves. If they digger deeper I will improvise the next steps or develop them in the week. If not I shrug and toss the card. Plenty more to pull from that stockpile.

Basically any number of “sub-plots” can develop, partially develop, or ignored completely if the party chooses to not follow them. 


For example in the current campaign one point has developed quite far with layer after layer being pulled away with the mysterious Lady Szara, their duplicitous patron (a random-rolled encounter from an early town session). In their search to uncover the cursed green pearl (a fig leaf mission to justify exploration of the one of the HC's larger dungeons) the Lady has been uncovered to be a Strigoi, the OG vampire of southern Slavic myth with countless new plots and counter-plots underway with their ostensible new patron, The Stripped Mage. 

By the way, here is the progression through the legend layers that Bachmann worked out for his own nifty example. 

"The clues for the “Legend of the City of Gold” might look like this: 

* 1—People tell of a City of Gold; 

*2—It is in the east at the head of a great river; 

*3—The inhabitants speak Wosish, are ruled by a King, have little contact with the outside world, and there is a beautiful princess living there; 

*4—An old adventurer had been there, he tells that the inhabitants believed their King was mad, and he mentions that he remembers the King looking like John Doe Swordsman (a member of your party who does not know that he has a Doom); 

*5—There is a rough map in the city archives made by the old adventurer after his journey, there is also a copy of a letter sent with an ambassador who did not return; 

*6—There is no reply to the letter; 

*7—Fifty miles from the City, a player will stumble over an ancient milestone which is overgrown, nearly illegible and seemingly in the middle of nowhere; 

*8—Twenty-five miles from the City, a player will find a hermit who tells of the disarray of the City, disease, decline of the army, the absence of magic, and mentions the death of the King; 

*9—In the City one hears of hopes for a new King, talk of despair, one sees work to be done, the Beautiful Princess has a chance to fall in love with John Doe Swordsman; 

*10—The long lost ambassador is met, and the party learns the signs of the New King (most of them point to you-know-who)."

Introducing Mystery and Legend into a Sandbox Campaign

I have never been a great fan of top-down world creation.

Ok...no wait...that's not entirely true, in many ways I am a quite the conflicted fan. In truth, I love me some great, big complicated story arcs. Stories with intricate dense layers with enormous casts of highly-imagined characters told over luxuriously, long stretches like HBO's The Wire endless fascinate me in much the same way picking up the Brothers Karamazov did.

While Lost by the end of its run made me want to poke out my orbital cavities with two steamin'-hot rods, I have to fess up to a great love of it's ability to spin out layers upon layers of mystery, discovery, and more mystery. The first few seasons quite simply hit a nerve that I haven't felt in speculative fiction for many years.

As a player and GM though these approaches in game form more often than not leave me stone cold.

The arguments in favor of a bottom-up, not-overly-determinative, mostly-plotless campaign I will put aside for this post as I have written about it on several other occasions--and frankly many others in the OSR blogosphere have articulated it far better than I ever will.

Suffice it to say that I don't want players feeling like they've wandered into a five-act play with their bit parts already written. I want their story of in-game exploits to be the real story and not some Big Ass Story hanging like a lead weight over the table.

Still...still...still I find no matter how much I have tried to tailor the Hill Cantons to be the West Marches that my GM brain abhors the vacuum too much. All the little ambiance bits, the set dressing for all these dungeon and wilderness comings and goings, seemed to want to start pulling itself together into Something Larger Going On. A lunar eclipse here, a cursed item there, an NPC taking on a sinister cast, and the pieces start to look more and more like that much dreaded “p” word.

I quickly found to keep the campaign at it's core a player-driven sandbox I needed to just be honest and figure out some systematic ways to incorporate enough of these elements—without letting them swamp the central arena of locale-based, non-linear exploration.

The following is the basis of a method I have developed to create some Lost-like layers of hooks and events (the whirly moving bits of a sandbox world that happen off stage) with a minimum of high-handed stage direction. Ironically it is a system based on one of the most brilliant trainwrecks of top-down world creation to grace the pages of Dragon magazine, “Believe or Not Fantasy Has a Reality” (referenced last month).

In that piece Doug Bachmann introduces a very interesting way to present legend and myth in layers that players can peel away with some sweat and toil:

“Legendary material is probably best placed on note cards. The object is to have enough clues on a subject to be interesting, yet not so many as to create clutter and unnecessary complication. Each card should identify the Legend, indicate the level of information, and state the clue(s). Levels of information...are as follows:

* 1. Knowing only the topic, only that it exists.

*2. Dictionary or atlas-level clues.

*3. Increasingly detailed information, yet not enough to determine the truth or relevance of the Legend.

*4. These clues allow a player to evaluate and judge the truth or relevance of the Legend.

*5 Threshold I. Information at this level gives a player a sense of knowledge and accomplishment. Some Legends stop at this level, but a player will not be able to tell if the clues go on to higher levels.

*6. Clues here merely indicate that more clues follow.

*7. Beginning of higher level clues.

*8. Expanded clues: Information here is useful in game activities.

*9. Relatively complete information; this allows judgments and evaluation of what is likely to remain in the Legend.

*10. Threshold II. All clues are filled out, completeness.”

By broadening this system to not just include legends but explorable campaign elements in general, a modern sandbox GM can create “just-in-time” branching ways for players to follow up and explore—or not explore—at their leisure.

I will detail my exact method in a follow-up post tonight or tomorrow. Stay tuned fair readers...


[Editor's Note: Just noticed that ChicagoWiz has a great post today on tips for creating a sandbox campaign well worth checking out.] 

More, More Mountebank for your Money

Turgenev (of Dragonsfoot, not the author of Fathers and Sons) has done some interesting tweaks on my recent version of the Mountebank. He takes the level chart up to 36, adds some great level names, and other little riffs. You can his download the PDF of it here.

Also Joe Bloch has his own nifty version of the class up as part of his vision to revive the Gygaxian second edition. Check it out on Greyhawk Grognard. 

Feliz Dia de los Muertos

That is "Happy Day of the Dead" for you all anglophones. Hill Cantons places virtual ofrendas for Gygax, Arneson, Moldavy, Bledsaw, Holmes, Crosby and all the other fallen pioneers of our hobby.

Fantastic catrina to our right courtesy of my artist friends at the Blue Star Art Complex here in San Antonio.

Posting on new classes and takes on Tekumel to resume in a few hours.

And oh yes, get off the Internet and vote you slackers. Swayed by halfling agitators, I myself will be voting for the Chaos Party. 

Arneson on Experience Points for Special Interests

It's been often noted in the nooks and crannies of old school spaces on the Internet that D&D co-creator Dave Arneson used a heavily house ruled system in his Blackmoor campaign that eschewed a simple gold for experience formula. Experience points were instead given for loot spent on player-chosen special interests, a notion that intrigued me enough to adopt myself.

I had assumed, based on many second-hand accounts, that Arneson's system was either something a bit abstracted and arbitrary based on the stated goals of the players or very class specific. Something like “my character's special interests are in power, so I get an experience point for each gold piece spent on my stronghold, hiring mercenaries and the like; or I am a fighter so gold spent on swords, armor, and training gets me experience.”

A close reading of that wonderful and jumbled mess of campaign notes, the First Fantasy Campaign, reveals, however, an interesting sub-system with some serious rules-specific crunch. I have no idea to what degree these rules were used in actual play--for all I know they could have been closer to my former view in reality. At any rate, they point to ways a GM can inspire crazy fun by tweaking the exp. carrot and stick.

For starters, the FFC system didn't just limit a PC's choice to one area of interest, it gave them seven separate ranges of choices that had varying percentages for treasure spent in a primary area of interest. Gold spent on somewhat related pursuits give smaller percentages of return (80-90 percent) and less related ones smaller percentages or none at all.

A player who chose to have his character specialize in a love of wine, for instance, received 100 percent for all the hard-earned loot spent on booze, 80 percent on women (!), and a mere 10 percent spent on religion.

The specific areas of interest are where Arneson's quirky and fun genius as a GM are really on show--as is the sheer gonzo enjoyability and pulp fantasy sensibility of Blackmoor. Witness the following highly-amusing definitions:

“A. WINE: Spirits with a relatively High Alcoholic Content that is immediately consumed by the player to the limits of his capacity. This MUST be repeated after recovery, by the player until all the alcoholic beverages purchased have been consumed BY THE PLAYER [Arneson's emphasis] before he can proceed on another expedition. An exception to this is if he comes into conflict with other players and loses the purchased WINE, whereupon he can proceed on an expedition...Experience gained while drunk does not count but treasure does.”

Wow. I hope said character did not have to make a systemic shock roll for their liver between expeditions.

“B. WOMEN: The player will immediately-proceed to the local ESTABLISHMENT and expend all funds desired on ROOM plus EXTRAS at that place. Slaves of the appropriate type (left to player) may also be purchased with the funds and utilized to fulfill this classification. These slaves may then be sold at reduced value, the difference being credited to the players account. Money stolen does not count in this area.”

Ok this one is a little embarrassing. Could, ahem, stand for some post-millennial, post-feminist updating.

“C. SONG: The player proceeds to the local tavern and expends his wealth on other players present in either category A or B or C. Damages assessed by the tavern owner are counted towards the players expenditures in this area. Experience gained as a result of area C will count towards this area only if the player is not inebriated when this was done. Inability to pay all debts so incurred in this, or the above areas may result in imprisonment (if they can get you) or banishment (if you get away).”

Partying down to help out your buds. What's not to like with this one. But remember to stay sober to keep that exp award.

“D. WEALTH: Merely the stockpiling of Gold, Silver and similar items of value by the player, If these items are stolen, the player loses full value immediately upon discovery and may lose levels as a result.”

Maintaining said miserly hoard perhaps entailed the creation for strongholds—or dungeons—of your own. An interesting way to again get players busy in co-creation.

“E. FAME: This is gained by straight combat with creatures and players in the game. The qualifying factor is that there must be another player who attest to your prowess in public. Otherwise, no points are gained (referees may award partial point totals if bodies are discovered later by other players (who must also attest to your results up to 75% Normal value). Flunkies (non-Player Characters) can also attest to your success (you get half value then) but can also (depending on loyalty) attest to deeds that you did not do...”

So showing off finally has some in-game utility. Better make sure to hire up some retainers (and keep them alive) to spread word of your greatness.

“F. RELIGION or SPIRITUALISM: Awarded when the player gains experience points while engaged on a QUEST or otherwise co-operating with a Cleric (may be himself) on a task. Funds are given to the local Religious denomination (up to player) where upon he will gain the points. Real Player Clerics may refuse to accept the offering and the player will get no points. Refusal to accept may get the player in trouble, depending on what the CLERIC said. Money given to the denomination may be spent by the Clerical type once 40%-90% (roll six-sided die) is sent to H...See HOW TO BECOME A BAD GUY for other details.”

Leaving aside the puzzling, tantalizing incoherence (what or where the hell is the H that money is being sent to?) there are interesting implications. Clerics have clear obligations to religious institutions, but can also cash in on the piety of their PC brethren.

G. HOBBY: This is a catch all category left to the referee to award details on to the players. Examples of some of the more obvious pursuits would be SPELL research by Magic-Users specializing in say ANIMAL CONTROL or the raising and breeding of LYCANTHROPES. Even the taking of spare parts and building a new creature...One's hobby could even be the devising of better TORTURE machines, making GOLD, the building of flying machines, all up to the referee to outline and define within the limits of his campaign.”

Another simple wow. Who wouldn't want to be a player in this kind of campaign?