Arcane Practitioners of the Sunset Isles

This month's RPG Blog Carnival, hosted by Forsaken Garden, takes Haves and Have Nots as a subject. This actually aligns with some of my setting thinking for the Sunset Isles, which I envisage as an intensely class-based society - almost, but not quite, a caste system. Manorialism and seigneurage - the systems which create what is described as ‘feudalism’ - are order of the day. The setup owes a certain amount to Skerples on the Three Estates, though my treatment differs from his.

For the purpose of this writeup, I'm largely concerned with human society. It's an unapologetically humanocentric setting. I've not decided yet whether to run this setting using race-as-class, and I'm not even entirely sure which demihumans are even present. But for the sake of discussion, and where relevant, this assumes the classic seven B/X classes.

Likewise, the Faith isn't yet fully defined. It's probably polytheistic with an emphasis on orthopraxy over orthodoxy. See Practical Polytheism for some thoughts on what that means. It's not trying to root out schisms and burn heretics, though, which is a little boring. There again, the god of thunder hurling actual bolts of lightning might make up for that, and it opens the door to all sorts of cults¹.

There's a lot to unpack here, so I'm going to focus on magic. There are three real routes to arcane magic in the Sunset Isles. Through the Faith, through apprenticeship, or through witchcraft. But first, let's briefly discuss divine magic.

Burn the Cleric!

First off, divine magic - that is to say, Clerics - is considered dangerous blasphemy. It is not the place of mere mortals to treat directly with gods. And, moreover, it is downright dangerous. If myths have taught the people of the Sunset Isles anything, it's that when people come to the attention of gods, it goes Very Badly Indeed for the world. The mythology isn't in any way worked up yet... but look at what happened when Paris was merely asked to settle an argument between Hera, Athena and Aphrodite. Sure, observe the proper rituals, offer the correct powers - but if you talk to the gods, and they talk back, you'd better be scared.

As a result, anyone professing to have dealings with the gods is likely to be persecuted by the Faith. In extremis, things like autos-da-fé are quite possible. If anyone were foolish enough to practice divine magic openly, that is. Instead, Clerics and their ilk do one of two things. They conceal their magical abilities. Or, they pretend to be Magic-Users, usually either Sanctioned Wizards or Witches. Since meaningful magical power isn't commonplace, the average person isn't likely to know that purify water isn't a spell known to wizardry. They'll just be grateful they've not got dysentery.

Which brings us around to the meat and potatoes of this. Magic-Users.

Sanctioned Wizards

The Faith is easily the most socially acceptable source of magical learning. It's really quite respectable, even. They have whole monastic colleges dedicated to the study within the great Universities of the Isles. The Faculty of Arcana sits alongside Theology, Law and Medicine as one of the respectable subjects for a scholar to study, having completed their mastery of the Arts.

Sure, you have to make a suitably large donation to the college - a couple of manors or something similar will usually do - even to be accepted as a novice. Then you have to deal with the junior orders making your life miserable. Because what kind of boarding school-cum-cum-monastery would be complete without hazing. But eventually you get to take your vows and actually start learning magic.

At least, in between copying out spells, preparing reagents, and (for some reason the Archmage won't explain) sweeping the cloisters anticlockwise in 6/8 time. In time, you will progress through the degrees of Arcana, hopefully culminating in recognition as a Doctor of Arcana. This qualifies you to practice as a Sanctioned Wizard, with the full approval of the Faith, and committed to a life of secluded learning and worship within the college - unless, of course, their abilities are needed elsewhere in the service of the Gods.

Sounds great, doesn't it?

Wizards Anathema

Well, not for everyone. Every now and again, a Sanctioned Wizard wraps up their spellbook in a spare robe, dons a pointed cap, and sets off into the wider world looking for adventure. Having turned their back on the Faith (or at least their college), these wizards are declared Anathema, and adventure usually finds them. Equally usual is that they discover that, actually, adventure involves long hours, constant danger, and little reward. Whereupon there are plenty of nobles who are quite willing to provide generous rewards, a nice safe tower to work from, and ask only for the occasional casting of locate object when a passing dragon has pinched their favourite crown. Sure, they can't exactly quit, on account of all those nice men with shiny armour and pointy spears who come find them if they wander off. But the bars on the windows are lovely and gilded.

Once in a while, a Wizard Anathema discovers that they're actually quite good at the adventuring thing, and it's not nearly so horrible once you've learnt the tricks of the trade. These fortunate individuals have a tendency, in time, to build their own towers. This time, with no bars (though the gilding is often present elsewhere), and the armed guards are looking outwards. It's all rather civilised, even if they're not exactly in the habit of explaining what the tower is actually for.

In either case, while secretive about their knowledge, Wizards Anathema also love showing off how clever they are. Which means either picking fights with other Wizards (this is about as safe as playing dodgeball with hand grenades) or picking an apprentice. Apprentices have the great advantages of (a) being easy to impress, and (b) being free labour. All you have to do is feed them and teach them a few minor enchantments. Eventually they either wander off to have their own adventures, or show enough promise that some other noble offers them a tower of their very own.

Of course, if lots of one's former apprentices go on to good jobs.... well, that just means you taught them well. So successful Wizards Anathema can wind up having a lot of sway at court. They get more pay. Taller towers. And fewer spears pointed at them. All of which is to say, being a Wizard Anathema can be really quite rewarding, once you've got past the 'dead and/or captive' part.

Witchcraft

Contrary to popular belief, not all witches are old women living in huts in the woods. The converse, however, is likely to be true: a disproportionate number of old women living in huts in the woods are, in fact, witches. That's mostly because living that way without magic on your side is a good way to be eaten by a hungry owlbear.

In fact, witchcraft is just an oral tradition of arcane magic. Its practitioners are mostly ordinary people - peasants, artisans, the occasional merchant or noble. And, as a result, both the Faith and the nobility -and often successful commoners - hate witches. Exploiting the labour of others is much harder when they turn you into a newt, after all. 

The result is that witches form themselves into a decentralised network of covens, each having at least three members, and no more than thirteen. New recruits to the craft are brought up within their coven, learning from their elders. As they learn, it is commonplace to move from one coven to another, gaining new contacts and techniques. Social pressures do mean that there are more female than male witches, perhaps in a ratio of two to one - men with an interest in the arcane have an easier path towards wizardry. But they are equally likely to be found in towns as the countryside - in fact, it is easier to organise a coven in a town - and there is no particular age preference for entering the craft.

Since most covens have connections to at least one other coven, the social ties within the community of witches are broad, but shallow - individual covens are communes of equals, regardless of social status. With no hierarchy, individual witches are do as they see fit, moving freely to wherever they are needed - or where they need to be. Which means that there's a reasonable chance (not high... but appreciable) of encountering a wandering witch, something which can't be said of wizards.

This even applies to the most powerful witches. Occasionally, some will seek to hoard knowledge and power, becoming reclusive - these are generally known as hags - but overwhelmingly, the greatest witches are at the centre of covens of those who benefit from their mentorship. Of course, these witches and their acolytes also attract the enemies of witchcraft.

Oh, and Elves?

Elves are weird. Best way to conceive of them is that the average Sunset Islander reacts to meeting an Elf about the same way you or I would react if Lancelot or Guinevere wandered down the street in full Arthurian regalia.

One aspect of this is that - quite unlike humans - it is expected that an elf will be capable of magic. Precisely how this skill is gained remains unclear, for elves do not appear to memorise spells in the same way as humans.²

It is understood that their arcane abilities are inherited, rather than learned, but that tutelage from another elf is required to fully realise them. Thus, the occasional elf raised outside elven society may not display any magical ability at all.

This is, if anything, even more unsettling to the Sunset Islanders. Because what is the point of a legendary being if they don't even have that which separates them from ordinary people?

Thinking Ahead to 2025

Taking a leaf from Messages from the Far Havens, I thought I'd talk a little about the games I'd like to run in 2025. Partly to pin down some ideas, partly in hopes that by telling the blogosphere I might discover some accountability.

• Some kind of Old-School Essentials campaign seems pretty much inevitable. I have ideas coming out of my ears for one. Really just need to get a reliable table together - my attempts at regular gaming this year have been cursed by availability. Partly my own, to be fair. The idea of getting an open table going for a bit of dungeon crawling, wilderness exploration, and maybe eventually domain play is seductive... but one must learn to crawl before climbing a mountain.
• My wife is keen for me to run Scurry for her and some friends. This one just needs putting in the calendar, to be honest.
• I'd meant to run some Dungeon Crawl Classics one-shots this year. Seems unlikely to happen now, but the system is good fun and well suited to a beer-and-pretzels type game. Not that any game I run is likely to feature beer, and pretzels aren't my snack of choice. But you take the point I'm sure.
• The early mediaeval setting of BEOWULF: Age of Heroes really pushes my buttons, as does the amount of work that's gone into it. This one could well be a monthly(ish) game, and the design as a duet game helps with the whole scheduling issue.
• The simplicity of the Year Zero Engine is really appealing. Forbidden Lands has a reputation for being brutal, and the assumption of the system seems to be campaign play. But with a little thought perhaps a short campaign might work... and not depress everyone too much.
• Will this be the year I start my 5th Edition Grand Realms Campaign? Probably not. This might be my white whale.
• More board games with my wife. We have more than enough of them. 

What's actually going to happen? Who knows. But 2024 has been a bad year for me for gaming. Hopefully 2025 will be a better one.

Return of the Hit Dice

It's no secret in the Fifth Edition community that Challenge Rating sucks. It's a guideline at best, and a rather loose one. There are all sorts of suggestions out there on how to fix it, or work better with it.

I have an alternative idea. Bin it entirely.

You see, Fifth Edition back in 2014 had some OSR credibility. So lets do it the OSR way.

Encounter balance? Try to have approximately the same number of hit points and attacks per round on both sides for a fair fight. If one side has an advantage, it's an unfair fight. Roleplay accordingly.

And yes, that means 'run away or negotiate'.

As far as stats go...  The Fifth Edition way of determining them is an arcane process of 'guess a Challenge Rating, work out the numbers, check if you were right, repeat if necessary'. That's not good design.

Instead, just use Hit Dice. It's what you do for player characters, after all. A 5 HD monster? It has a Proficiency Bonus of +3. Extending the Proficiency Bonus chart above 20 HD is easy... +1 every 4 HD.

I've done a few spot checks, and this actually doesn't have as big an effect as you'd expect. ±1 to attack rolls and saving throws, generally, with a lot of stuff unchanged.

The same rate of progression as an Old-School Thief or Cleric, in fact... Coincidence? I think not. Which incidentally means you can usefully OSRify Fifth Edition combat by dropping proficiency bonuses by 2 across the board, and losing the Constitution bonus to Hit Points.

This messes up the skill system, of course. That's the problem with unified resolution systems. Or just do ability checks, with advantage if the character has a relevant skill. That's a problem for another day.

Other than this, though....

* Encounter balance is a bit simpler

* Monsters are easier to build

* PCs are more less superheroic

Sounds like a good start, no?

The King is....Not Dead? Still?

The King has always been the King. Even when Great-Grandfather was a boy, he had always been King. Nobody questions this. But the players might. Typical players.

Roll a d12 for the explanation they are given. One of these might be true.

1. He is the last surviving Elf King.

2. He consumes the souls of children to postpone death.

3. He is an undying vampire. Court cuisine is remarkably bland.

4. He consumes the magic of ancient Elvish artefacts to prolong his life. Those who provide him with them are generously rewarded. Nobody thinks too hard about what will happen when there are no more artefacts to harvest.

5. The Gods have blessed him with eternal life, so long as he serves their will.

6. He defeated Death in a duel. Death is still pissed off about it, but the Laws of the Universe must be obeyed.

7. Death just sort of… Forgot. It would be embarrassing to have to come back and call attention to the error.

8. Death came for his soul. He offered Death something far more valuable.

9. He died long ago, but his body has been occupied by a demon who finds it useful to wander the mortal world without drawing attention to itself.

10. He died long ago, but the King's Council has been keeping it a secret so long that the lie has become habit.

11. Actually, he's only been King for a few months, but powerful magic has made it so nobody can remember anything else.

12. The masses believe him to be King. As long as he has it, he cannot stop being King. Mere death cannot supersede this mandate.

Robgoblin Reviews - Mycelia

The Kickstarter Fairies have been kind this month. Off the back of Kavango the other week, the latest arrival at the Goblinhole is Mycelia, the self-described Strategic Mushroom Game from Split Stone Games. We got the Deluxe edition, because we're suckers for upgraded stuff, and it's nice to support independent artists and designers.

In technically unrelated news, the Common Descent podcast has also just begun a three-part series on the palaeontology and evolution of fungi. What can I say, goblins like mushrooms. Even if they are freaky and weird.

Anyway, the Goblinette (Goblette?) and I have only played through once, but here's some initial impressions.

First off the bat, the name has caused some confusion. Evidently, a large publisher created a game with the same name at virtually the same time. This is the moody, earthy independent game, not the light and whimsical family game. Apparently a good game, just not the one I'm talking about. Anyway.

This one hits you with the earthiness as soon as you open... well, the box it shipped in. Because the outer box itself is dark green. It really suits the theme of the game, and stands out pretty well on our game shelves alongside generally lighter boxes. The box is sleeved, as boxes apparently are these days. Don't entirely get the desire, but then I'm a function-over-form guy a lot of the time. I guess it keeps stuff together and makes it look a bit tidier on a shelf.

Inside the box, the components are nice and tactile. Painted wooden game components are always nice, the card is a good thickness, and the double-thickness card player boards with cutouts for cards and conmponents are an excellent touch. The artwork is excellent, all produced by the game designer - apparently a person of many talents, as they've also handmade the premium all-wooden 'Opulent Edition' of the game, which I'm sure those with deeper pockets than me are enjoying.

The triangular game board tiles tesselate very nicely, and make sense with the game mechanics, but do suffer from the minor problem that triangles are really difficult to shuffle. Squares or hexagons wouldn't work as well mechanically, though, and you only really have to shuffle them once, so that's fine overall.

Gameplay seems intimidating at first, but is actually pretty simple. The core gameplay loop is to grow a mycelial network and fruit mushrooms. Or in gamist terms, get resource cubes onto the game board, then spend those resources to play cards. At the end of the game, each mushroom card played scores points.

Each turn, a player gets to take two actions, which must generally be different

• Draw a new tile to expand the player board
• Move their mother mushroom (player piece) to contest control of the board
• Play spores (resource cubes) onto the board, one cube per tile, from a player's piece or 
• Spend spores from the board to play a card and place a mushroom piece onto the board
• Draw a new card to their hand
• Decay (expend) a card to gain a bonus, sacrificing a mushroom piece from the board to do so.

In our playthough, despite the board being quite congested, there wasn't too much directly confrontational play. I'm sure you could play this way, but it's not our preferred style, so it was good that the game didn't force us into it. There's also a good level of randomness: the initial board comprises twelve tiles, and grows as more tiles are drawn, while a die roll dictates the direction in which spores can be played.

There isn't much asymmetry - limited really to differing hands meaning players seek different resources. As cards are expended, a bit more asymmetry creeps in, but not so much that it feels like there are different games taking place on the same board.

Game end is determined quite simply: when a player has decayed a card from each of five spots, the game ends instantly - not only does no other player get to take actions, but the player who triggered the end of the game cannot take any further actions. Because individual player mats are visible to all players, this shouldn't come as a surprise. In fact, during the endgame, both of us were actively using our actions to try to prevent the other from achieving this condition.

Scoring is straightforward: each card played scores points. There are some bonus points awarded for other achievements, but they didn't prove significant for us. They might in a game with more players, where competition for resources becomes more extreme.

Overall, Mycelia is simple to learn, but with a good level of emergent complexity that makes for an engaging game. A thumbs up from us!

How to Cause Wounds and Mutilate Corpses

I've been meaning to explore some thoughts about injuries, wounds, and character death in adventure games for some time. In doing so, I've inevitably had to tackle the subject of Hit Points.

In the past, I've considered that obviously hit points correspond to actual wounds. The key arguments here being the effect of armour, and the existence of poisoned weapons. This argument often goes hand-in-hand with the idea that a combat round is six to ten seconds, and that a single attack roll reflects a single swing of a sword.

The contrary view is that obviously hit points reflect endurance, stamina, and will to live. The arguments here being that no mere mortal could expect to endure multiple wounds, and that an 'attack' merely represents the cumulative effect of swordplay over a round lasting a minute or so. This was the interpretation favoured by Gary Gygax et al, seeking to replicate the duel between Robin Hood and the Sheriff of Nottingham in the 1938 Errol Flynn movie.

Where I've landed is a compromise. Why, yes, this fence is mighty comfortable. No human could expect to endure - as even a moderately high level character can - multiple blows from a swordsperson who really means it. Much less a fire ball spell. So hit points must, on some level, represent all those good intangible things. But, at the same time, the presence of various effects contingent on scoring blows does necessitate actual wounds.

So, my conclusion is this: hit points represent the gradual wearing down of defences and the accumulation of minor wounds. Inconsequential cuts, scrapes and bruises. And I think this suits the genre well. Heroes in media - whether film, or TV, or literature - aren't slowed by flesh wounds. It takes a meaningful hit to do that. One which only comes when their defences are worn down, or by some combination of luck and skill from a foe.

Hit Points

In most classic adventure games, a character has some number of Hit Dice, often (though not always) gaining one each time they gain a level. Traditionally, only the new dice are rolled, meaning that a character who rolls poorly will always be disadvantaged, while one who rolls well will always have some advantage.

Instead, I suggest that each time a character gains an additional Hit Die, whether by gaining a level, or by some other means, the player should roll their entire pool of Hit Dice, adding any modifiers due to the result. If the result exceeds their current maximum Hit Points, then the maximum increases to this level. Otherwise, their maximum Hit Points remain unchanged. Their actual Hit Points do not increase automatically; they must rest (as below) to gain the full benefit of their increased resilience.

In this way, some level of regression to the mean will occur. A player who rolls poorly at first is likely to see a marked increase when they gain a level. A player who rolls well may see little or no improvement. But there is always some chance of either outcome. And in the long run, feeble wizards with low Constitution scores and small hit dice are all but guaranteed to be more vulnerable to harm than mighty warriors with high Constitution and large hit dice.

 

When a character takes damage to their Hit Points, this always reflects some actual, though trifling, wound which saps the character's fortitude. It will be seen from the increasing numbers of Hit Points as characters gain levels that they are increasingly unconcerned by such trifles. Nonetheless, each blow landed offers an opportunity for acid, poison or the like to take effect.

 

When a player character is reduced to 0 Hit Points, they are not yet dead - though at this point every blow becomes potentially mortal, as discussed below. If using Critical Hits - however you choose to define them - these may have bypass Hit Points entirely and have a chance of directly inflicting a mortal wound. This offers the opportunity for a deadlier, more exciting game.

 

Monsters and non-player characters will generally die (or at least be out of the game) at 0 Hit Points. The Referee may choose to allow dragons, important non-player characters, and the likes to roll for injuries.

Injuries

 

When a character reaches 0 HP, roll on the Injury Table with a penalty equal to the damage in excess of that required to reduce them to 0 HP. Some results on the table do not automatically result in the character being removed from combat - especially if their foe has marked them for death. In this case, each subsequent hit requires another roll on the Injury Table, with a penalty equal to the full amount of damage received. It will be obvious that surviving a blow once at 0 HP is unlikely - though possible, if the character has luck.

Injury Table (Roll 2d6)

1 or Less: Grisly Death. Body so spectacularly destroyed that only a resurrection or wish spell can bring it back to life

2: Instant Death: Decapitated, or similarly grievous wound. No hope of survival.

3: Mortal Wound. Disemboweled, stabbed through the heart, etc. Dead in 2d6 rounds. Save vs. Death or unconscious until death.

4: Slow Death. Internal bleeding, punctured lung, or other similar. Dead in 2d6 turns. Save vs. Death or unconscious until death.

5: Lose a limb: Roll to determine limb affected. If head rolled and no helmet worn, treat as Instant Death. If body rolled and no armour worn, treat as Mortal Wound, otherwise dead in 3d6 turns from blood loss.  Takes 3d6 weeks to recover from wounds. Save vs. Death or unconscious until death.

6: Paralysed: Devastating blow damages your spinal cord. Roll to determine loss of muscle and sensory function. 1-3: legs; 4-5, waist down; 6, whole body. Save vs. Death or unconscious for 3d6 turns.

7: Broken bone: Roll to determine location. 3d4 weeks to heal. Save vs. Death or unconscious for 3d6 rounds. If head is struck, no helm is worn, and save is failed, unconscious in coma until healed.

8: Knocked Out: Unconscious for 2d6 rounds and helmet destroyed. If not wearing a helmet, treat as Broken bone: head.

9: Stunned: Cannot take actions for 1d4 rounds and helmet destroyed. If not wearing a helmet, knocked out for 2d6 rounds instead.

10: Flesh Wound: Ouch. This one hurt. Cannot take actions for 1 round. If not wearing armour, cannot take actions for 1d4 rounds.

11: No Effect: You got off lightly this time. 

12 or more: Adrenaline Surge: You gain 1d4 hit points per hit die. At the end of combat, you lose these hit points, and suffer a -1 penalty to all rolls. This penalty increased by a further -1 for each round of combat in which you act, and reduces by 1 for each turn you completely rest.

Hit Location (d6): 1, left arm; 2, right arm; 3, left leg; 4, right leg; 5, torso; 6, head.

Clearly, wearing a helm is a good idea. Why wouldn't you? That's a matter for when I talk about armour. But in short, can't see well, can't hear well, look like you're after a fight. Not getting hit is even better, which is why Shields Shall Be Splintered.

Other Death and Dismemberment tables are available. I like the 2d6 ones; this one owes a lot to Robert Fisher, Trollsmyth, and Troll and Flame. But make your own to suit your preferred level of carnage. Or add modifiers to the roll: Constitution makes sense.

 

Players should track each wound received by their characters, along with the time taken for them to heal. While a character is wounded, the character's recovery of HP is reduced by 1 HP per night of rest per wound, to a minimum of zero. If a character has the misfortune to suffer multiple serious injuries, the recovery times are not cumulative: wounds will recover in parallel.

I've intentionally not listed ways of treating wounds. An imaginative party can find ways to do it; the Referee should adjudicate them reasonably and fairly.

Recovery

 

HP is recovered at a rate of 1 HP per night of sleep, generally comprising six to eight hours in one or two stretches, possibly with a period of keeping watch. In a normal low-level party of four fools with swords adventurers, eight hours will allow one person to keep watch while the other three sleep.

 

If you are able to get a good night's rest - undisturbed, well-fed, warm, and in a proper bed - this increases by 1 HP per night. This will usually require that you spend the night in someone's home, an inn, or something of that nature, though a sufficiently wealthy party may be able to achieve this in the wilderness. Any requirement to keep watch or subsist on iron rations rules out a good night's rest. Note that in the common room of an inn, undisturbed sleep cannot be guaranteed!

 

If you receive attentive care, this increases by a further 1 HP/night. A nurse can only care for one injured person at a time, and is unable to rest while they do so. In extremis, one party member might nurse another, at the expense of their own rest and recuperation, though normally it will be necessary to seek aid elsewhere. This allows for recovery of a maximum of 3 HP/night. At the Referee's discretion, higher rates of recovery might be possible with the attention of a skilled physician, though this should come with a significant cost to the character's purse and at some risk to their health.

Those who are quick with numbers will note that if a character has somehow accumulated 3 wounds and not died yet, they will likely incapable of recovering hit points at all until their wounds heal. This isn't a system suitable for a 'save the world before next Tuesday' campaign. Long gaps between adventures, or stables of characters, are going to be essential.

 

Magical Healing

 

Healing magics, however administered, knit wounds together quickly and crudely. They may be quite sufficient to mend minor cuts and scrapes, though the crudeness of magic for this purpose means that scarring is almost inevitable.

In game terms, this means that the likes of cure light wounds are able to restore hit points. But they cannot cure Injuries received via rolling on the status table. A spell such as regenerate might do the trick, though at a cost - for serious wounds, healing magic is really quite inadequate to the task.

These spells will merely reattach flesh and bone in the position where they lie.  In this case, scarring is inevitable, and worse deformations are possible if (for example) a broken bone is reset while the limb is contorted. The character may, at the referee's discretion, continue to suffer some of the detriments of their injury - for instance, a badly-set broken arm may still be unable to wield a weapon.

In this case, a true cure, if possible, will require the attention of a surgeon or physician with the skill to safely operate on the casualty. This is likely to involve inflicting fresh wounds on the character: breaking a badly-set bone, for example. And that, in turn, means more time out of action, waiting for the wound to heal, and potentially catching some nasty disease.

No, magic might be a useful way to stay alive long enough to reach proper medical care. But that's really all it is. Go visit your doctor, folks.

Gaming Round-Up #1

What's been happening in the Goblinverse since I last wrote. Or at least, wrote like I meant it.

New Acquisitions

New board games this month:

• Mazaza Games's Kavango, of which more later.

New roleplaying games stuff:

• Ben Milton's The Waking of Willoughby Hall
• Blackwell Games's For Small Creatures Such As We, Delve, and Rise
• Lost Pages's Beyond the Pale.
• MacGuffin & Company's From Hell's Heart I Stab At Thee
  
• The Merry Mushmen's Nightmare over Ragged Hollow, Raiding the Obsidian Keep, and The Horrendous Hounds of Hendenburgh, as well as Knock! #2 and #3.
• Twelve Pins Press's The Witch Of The Westmoreland
• Yochai Gal's Cairn 2e Players Guide. 

Some or all of these may or may not be reviewed. Some may already be inspiring things.

D&D 5th Edition

Nominally, I've been playing in a monthly D&D 5e game at my local game store. I say 'nominally', because I've probably missed more sessions than I've attended. Not a terrible loss, since (a) 5e isn't my favourite system, and (b) the principal purpose of that game was to kickstart a new gaming group. Which it has done, despite my unreliability. So that's nice.

Still, it's accounted for most of my potential adventure gaming opportunities since my old 5e campaign finished last December. So it's a shame I've not been able to make it along. The final session of that campaign is in the calendar, though, so I'll be in it for the end. Be interesting to see what they've done to my character.

Apparently, not making him a martyr for his religion, much to his disappointment.

Old-School Essentials

I attempted to run an OSE open-table game for the same gaming group. Sadly, this didn't get off the ground - while the principle of open table gaming might be that you run the game for whoever shows up, it does still require that some people show up.

That might have been me misjudging the level of interest for an in-person OSE game in this corner of the world. It might have been poor timing, with summer holidays getting in the way. It might have been poor communication of the open table concept. I still want to run that game, but maybe later. In the meantime, the plan is to run Nightmare Over Ragged Hollow, either in-person or online depending on who I can round up. A weekly game, wrapped up in a couple of sessions, might be an easier sell.

Tabletop Scotland

I made it along to Tabletop Scotland this year for the Friday and the Sunday. Friday was spent trawling the trading floor, which had a good range of traders in attendance, attending some seminars, and playing Dragonbane. Sunday, I ran Endure - a lightweight survival game - and the 5th Edition version of White Plume Mountain.

Oh, and the Saturday? Day out in Edinburgh with my wife. Went to Ancient Robot Games, though, where I picked up The Waking Of Willoughby Hall. So not a total loss of gaming opportunities.

This was the first year the convention was held at the Royal Highland Centre near Edinburgh. This made it a bit of a pain to get to - not insurmountable, as I have access to a car, but if I hadn't been able to drive I'd have had to give it a miss. The venue being so much larger than the Dewars Centre in Perth did make the convention much easier to navigate, though. I expect that more exhibitors were present, too. It certainly felt that way.

Friday evening, I played Dragonbane. I'd not played that system before, but it seemed to be a nice, accessible system, quick to learn and not too complex. And Free League always has good production values. I still don't get the love of anthropomorphic animals, though. Maybe I'm not the target market for them.

The Endure scenario ran smoothly, but suffered a bit from my inexperience with the genre. The players mostly had fun, but the absence of a 'ticking time bomb' to prompt swift action meant that the first part of the session mostly involved harmless meandering around. I realised the error and started flooding the crashed spaceship, which kicked things into gear more. Probably should have done that from the outset. Also, some of the players expressed frustration that scavenging for supplies was a bit too random. That would be easy to fix if I run the system again. Which I probably will, it made for a fun lightweight one-shot.

White Plume Mountain was a bit of a mixed bag. I used some house rules - in fact, almost entirely officially-published 5e variant rules - to make the game a bit more lethal and fast-moving. But the inventories I produced were probably a bit overwhelming, meaning that players couldn't really master their characters' equipment for problem solving. The power level was a bit too high, though the sense of danger did lead to some good non-violent problem solving. I also had a total novice at the table, which was probably unhelpful for fast gaming. Still, fun was had, though I'd have hoped to cover more ground in the time available.

The major shortfall, in my eyes - and this isn't unique to Tabletop Scotland - was the relative lack of a draw for board gamers. My wife doesn't play roleplaying games, so didn't feel like it was worthwhile to attend. There's probably not a lot that can be done to attract exhibitors (and I'm dubious of the value of established game shops setting up stalls) without players, but I can't help wondering whether offering planned, bookable board game slots might attract board gamers to play games they don't normally get a chance to.

Overall, Tabletop Scotland was a lot of fun, and I'll surely be back.

Kavango

My wife backed this after seeing the game at the UK Games Expo last year. Fulfilment by Zatu was pleasingly quick and efficient, despite that company's reputation giving us the fear that the game might actually get trampled by an elephant then sent off Victoria Falls.

We've played it through three times now. I've won all three. This is usually how it goes: I get the first couple of wins in, then she masters the system and I never win again. But the artwork is appealing, the mechanics reinforce the theme, and it's actually quite simple to learn. Crucially for us, it's also quick to set up and quick to play.

I'd been concerned that it might be too similar to Wingspan, but the mechanics are actually quite different, despite the two games sharing the core idea of 'introduce animals into your reserve'. Here, interaction between players is mostly through shared hands of cards, and it feels strangely cooperative for a competitive game. Though that could just be us.

Though there are opportunities to score points by completing 'research goals' throughout the game, the bulk of the final score comes from the animals a player is able to introduce into their nature reserve. This requires building a food web - lions are valuable, but need a lot of large animals to eat. Hares need only grass. Since each player begins with different resources, each will inevitably start building out different food webs, despite both having access to the same hands of cards.

Thus, in our most recent game, my 'wetland' board was replete with birds and reptiles, but large mammals were scarce. Meanwhile, my wife's 'grassland' board had plenty of antelopes, and big cats to prey on them.

There are certainly some oddities - a crab is a type of fish, lions are not carnivores, and antelope are terrestrial. But this is justified by the need to have a streamlined set of categories. As a player, you always feel short on funds. You are incentivised to do things, not because they are necessarily best for your reserve, but because they will satisfy investors. And yet, each turn spent seeking resources is a turn not spent directly on conservation... not necessarily wasted, but it must be done with care.

All said, an excellent game. It's definitely earnt a place in our collection.

The Tunnels

You can only grope for a way ahead as you crawl on your belly through the filth in the coal-black tunnels.

As you push forward, hoping for space, for light, and maybe even a way out, you realise the water is getting deeper. The air is staler.

But you cannot turn back. There is no space to turn in this twisted warren. And worse, it is behind you. Chasing. Growling. Slavering. Killing.

Move's off, we're staying here.

Substack is a silly place. Back to Blogger, thanks.

Hoping to get back to weekly posts soon. Probably be a monthly cycle, aiming to get at least one of each of the following a month:

• A review of some RPG-relevant media. Maybe a game. Maybe an adventure. Maybe a book or movie.
• A variant rule, or class, or something like that. Probably not playtested. I'm a goblin, not a designer.
• An adventure seed or location.
• An opinion. Internal logical consistency optional.

Maybe some other stuff, if I have time and enthusiasm to spare.

The Robgoblin is moving

 New posts will go up on Substack:

https://therobgoblin.substack.com/

The Wood is Growing - RPG Blog Carnival

The theme for this month's RPG Blog Carnival is It's Not Easy Being Green, which sounded interesting. So here's a mini-campaign or setting.

The Wood has been growing

Not in the usual way - a thicket here, a tree there - but like an advancing army. Not so long past, perhaps as little as ten years, around the monastery was fields. Now, it is an embayment on the edge of a vast, tangled sea of green stretching northwards as far as can be seen. Perhaps as far as the distant mountains. Perhaps beyond even that. 

A moon past, some men from the village went to cut wood for their fires, as they had for years. They were never seen again, nor - after the screaming stopped - heard from. The same could be said of the party sent to search for them a sennight later. Or the warband pursuing the wild-elves one moonlit night.

Young, brave men are becoming scarcer and scarcer. This cannot continue. If it does, the village will not continue. The realm itself may not continue - but surely the trees must stop when they reach the sea?

As the party penetrates deep into the Wood, news of their progress is widely transmitted. The trees talk to each other - or else the animals carry messages? - it's hard to be sure how. The deeper they get, the stranger things get. Trees hundreds of feet tall. Entangling roots that move with purpose. The vengeful dryads on the edges of the forest - back when there was still light - might have made the villagers flee in terror, but they are tame compared to the horrors of the deep wood.

Eventually, should the party make it to the sacred grove at the centre, they will find the dreadful druid-lich who has made the Wood an extension of themselves. The Wood cannot be stopped while the druid-lich still lives. And the druid-lich cannot be killed while the Wood still stands.

Suggested Monsters

• Wild wood-elves, of uncertain loyalty. Perhaps the druid-lich is, or was, one of them?
• Lesser druids, servants of the druid-lich, imbued with strange and dark magics.
• Dryads, unrelenting guardians of the forest.
• Treants, shepherds of the armies of awakened trees which march forth in conquest
• Carnivorous plants and entangling vines, ensnaring and trapping adventurers, funnelling them into the path of the forest's defenders.
• Giant spiders and giant ants, dwellers of the deep forest. And if the insects are this large, how large must their prey be? Or those who prey upon them?
• Strange fungi growing in reefs atop colossal fallen logs.
• Elementals (fire and water), great forces drawn upon by the druid-lich.
• Will-o-th'-wisps, drawing adventurers deeper into the Wood.
• A dragon, which believes all the gold in the Wood is its by right.
• The druid-lich themselves, imbued with immense power to command living things, to control the elements, and to shape themselves as they wish. Their soul is bound to the Wood; so long as even one stem survives, the druid-lich can be restored.