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.

Robgoblin Reviews - The Monster Overhaul

I was going to write something about how game designers need to go hiking. But, actually, it turns out that a lot have. Fifth Edition's ludicrous statement that an average person can walk 24 miles a day whilst carrying a 150-pound pack is, fortunately, an outlier.

Best of the bunch, IMO? Probably AD&D 1st Edition, at least of the D&D variants. If you're still running 5e, for some reason, the AD&D rules are easy to steal for a house rule.

So instead, here's a review of The Monster Overhaul by Skerples.

Bottom line up front? It's excellent, go buy it now.

It is, in short, everything you need from a monster book. And nothing you don't need. Sure, bits are weird - it's Skerples, after all - but even the weird bits are useful. All the classic monsters are present: goblins, liches, dragons, and the likes. Usually with a unique twist, because nobody needs to see the same old statblocks again.

While the book is systemless, it's adaptable to some types of systems better than others. Any of the monsters could be run straight out of the book, if using Basic or Advanced D&D as your rules. I assume the same is true for GLoG. Fifth Edition, you're going to have to work at it - or take Skerples's advice, and use your existing rulebooks for basic statistics but use abilities from The Monster Overhaul. That's probably fair, and it's good that - despite the obvious, and explicit, old-school leanings - the book makes at least a nod towards what it calls 'games with a higher power level'.

And the abilities are fun as well as being easy to run at the table. No need to wade through spell descriptions for liches or druids, they have unique abilities there on the page. A dragon which breathes swords at you? Yes please. A centaur that's half centipede, half man? No thank you, I'd like to sleep tonight... but the stats are there.

Don't think that the book is just lists of monsters, though. There are random tables aplenty, for all sorts of things. Appearance. Motivation. Unique special powers. What flavour the monster is. Yes, really. Some of them give you interesting powers if you eat them. Most of them just taste horrible and will make you explode - or wish you'd exploded. 

Which is fair. I don't understand the fixation some people have for eating monsters.

And then there's the Oatmeal Raisin Cookie Golem. If you're eating that one, you're the monster.

Scattered throughout the book, at least one to a chapter, are generic locations: a Wizard's Tower, a Dragon's Lair, a Shipwreck. They're tropey. That's the point. When you draw up a map, and don't know what all the rooms are for? Go consult the models.

Even the indexing is excellent. There's the usual stuff: alphabetical, by HD, by typical dungeon level (or, in this case, by the type of room on that level). But there's also an 'Index of Monster Utility', for those times you need something to show up and tell the players to please stop eating Oatmeal Raisin Cookie Golems. And a surprisingly useful, and logical, Celestial Index of Benevolent Knowledge.

A few random highlights for me?

The Random Lifecycle Generator, for one. It's in the 'Strange Water' section, for weird sea creatures. But it works equally well for any other type of creature. Because why can't mature wizards have be sessile and reproduce by spore dispersal? What did you think those towers were for, astronomy?

Also, the Referee guidance. How to handle players receiving wishes (grant them, and embrace the chaos!). And how to handle evil in games. I will quote directly, because it's an important line:

You cannot mix the two options. Either Orcs are people, or they aren't.

Seriously, the book is almost worth it just for this section. Page 60, people, go read it.  

And finally, because I can't gush about this for too long, the actual physical artifact. This is a fantastic book. It is well laid out. Everything comes readily to hand; where a creature's entry extends over two pages, those pages are facing pages. The tables are clear. Even the inside endpapers are put to work. It feels nice and hefty in my hands, suitable for use - in a pinch - to bludgeon one's foes.

Though that would get blood on it, which would be a shame.

There are a few typos, but nothing major (I can't even remember them at the moment), and certainly don't detract from the text.

I look forward to running a game again so I have an excuse to use some of these monsters. They deserve to make some unwitting PCs lives miserable.

The Four Dragons

Surely everyone has a take on dragons. Here's mine.

Dragons follow their own morality, perhaps not quite so alien as that of the creatures of the Void, but certainly not one that humans might understand. In dealing with dragons, it is perhaps best not to draw their attention. Does it especially matter to a rat whether it is in a laboratory, the hands of a sadistic torturer, or the home of a loving owner? Could it even tell? So it is, when treating with dragons. Even a dragon which appears to be helpful is likely to view you as a useful curiosity... for now.

There are four Great Dragons: the Red, Yellow, Black, and Green. None is associated with Good, or Evil, or Order, or Chaos, in a way that mortals might understand. Lesser dragons may display some combination of these characteristics, and are correspondingly weakened by the dilution of their ancestors' blood.

It is of course the Yellow Dragon that is most feared, though in truth all inspire dread. Some hold that the Black and the Red dragon are enemies, and that the Yellow and White are enemies. Others hold that there is a fifth Great Dragon, incorruptible and unchanging.

Statistics for these in your game system are left to your discretion.

Yellow Dragon

The yellow dragon has the boldness of the lion, and controls fire. It seeks to acquire assets for its hoard, acting decisively to pursue its ambition. It is often bitter, usually short-tempered, and invariably daring - although for all that, it is displays good sense and does not take foolish risks. It is greenish-yellow in colour.

White Dragon

The white dragon has the sturdiness of the ox, and controls water. It values reasoning and logical investigation, pursuing scholarly interests. It is reserved, low-spirited and forgetful, and white in colour.

Red Dragon

The Red Dragon has the vision of an eagle, and controls the air. It values art and beauty, seeking to enjoy sensual pleasures. It acts spontaneously, according to its whims. It is enthusiastic, active, and social, making friends readily, joking and laughing. It is beautiful to behold.

Black Dragon

The Black Dragon has the spirit of a man, and controls the earth. It acts intuitively, in line with its connection with the Gods, to promote morality and punish vice. It is melancholy in nature, fearful, slow to act, and has a sickly appearance. It is black in colour.

Quest For It!

Story time. In my first D&D campaign (Fifth Edition, of course), my character acquired a cool sword early on from a character who left the party, and I used it for a long time. Then I acquired a second cool sword. The first one had useful powers against demons. The second one, against giants. There was an interesting choice to be made about which sword I used depending on the situation.

Of course, my character wanted to not have to make that choice, and just have one cool sword that combined both. I suggested this to the GM, expecting to have a short arc where I'd have to find a smith with sufficient skills in the arcane arts - probably the elven smith who'd become hostile to us earlier in the campaign. I'd then have to persuade them to do the work, and likely do some kind of favour for them by way of payment. It would have been a fun follow-up, after my character's main motivation for adventuring had been resolved.

Instead, the next time we encountered a blacksmith, my character struck up a conversation, expecting the hook for this mini-arc. And the blacksmith said 'Oh yes, I can do that, but I'll need to get a priest to help so it'll take a couple of days and cost extra.' Well, in that campaign time wasn't really an issue, and money is irrelevant in 5E. So, what could have been character motivation and the creation of a really impressive magic item became just another transaction.

Now, everyone likes a cool magic item. They make characters more powerful, either by making them better at stuff they're already good at (I'm looking at you, +3 Sword) or making them good at stuff they couldn't already do. Give your Fighter a Wand of Fireballs. I dare you.

Getting that advancement because the GM decides it's time for you to have it is unsatisfying. It feels like the player is just an actor in the GM's story. And if you're running a campaign with story-based advancement, where new character abilities are gained when the GM says so, that goes double.

(Seriously, don't do story-based advancement. If XP isn't working for you, look at how you're awarding it instead of throwing it out. Making numbers go up feels good.)

Getting that item because you defeated the evil archmage or mighty warrior who bore it, or because you liberated it from the hoard of a terrible dragon, makes it into a reward. Earning - and I do mean earning - the favour of some potentate, and being gifted an ancestral blade, feels like you've made real progress in the world.

So, please, make your characters work for their rewards. They'll appreciate it all the more when they get them.

It Takes A Village To Stock A Hex

It's fairly likely that your favourite fantasy roleplaying game has, buried in the rules somewhere, an assumption that you're using six-mile hexes at the basis for overland travel. This assumption is almost as old as the genre, and is present even if you're using a ruleset that doesn't explicitly use hex maps. Ever wonder why D&D 5th Edition has paces of 18, 24 or 30 miles a day? That's 3, 4 or 5 hexes!

The idea that they're the 'ideal' scale goes back to at least 2009, and Steamtunnel's oft-cited In Praise of the 6 Mile Hex. And that idea has merit, it's certainly mathematically convenient. But we don't make maps for the convenience of mapmakers: we make them to describe territory. The 6-mile hex does a poor job of that, because it is too big.

This has been remarked upon before, of course. Most recently by Eric Diaz at Methods & Madness, but also by Skerples at Coins and Scrolls. Both authors use European cities as their reference points, and quite reasonably so. Siena, used by Skerples as an example, is of course in densely-populated (even in the mediaeval era) Italy, where such a hex can contain - as he shows - a dozen or more towns and villages, as well as the city iself.

Even in rural Scotland, relatively sparsely populated even in the mediaeval era, such a hex containing my hometown contains:

• The town itself
• Two or three villages
• Two Iron Age hill forts
• At least three castles
• Part of a line of Roman fortifications and signal stations, though none of the major structures fall within the area
• Sundry standing stones, churches, chapels etc

Most of these would be considered 'points of interest' in most fantasy adventure campaigns. If one operates on the conceit that a hex ought to contain precisely one 'point of interest', as is usual, the six-mile hex only works for an exceptionally sparsely populated area. One that makes even mediaeval Scotland look cosmopolitan, and which - for that reason - cannot contain any major cities

What it does describe, and quite well, is the plains of the American West. Which makes sense, actually. Since the beginnings of the genre, Original Dungeons and Dragons was implicitly a Western draped in fantasy mediaeval trappings. 

Now, you're certainly free to imagine a setting where the combined effects of wizards and dragons do create a dynamic rather similar to that. And there's some charm in doing so. You're still constrained by the limitations of agriculture, which mean that if you've got cities (or dwarven mines - in any case, places with lots of people who import food) you need farms. And therefore somewhat-dense habitation at least near them.

Rather more plausible, at least for a quasi-European setting, is the three-mile (or one-league) hex. Steamtunnel came to a similar conclusion in The Ergonomic 3-Mile Hex. As did Silverarm Press in Down with the 6-Mile Hex! A Modest Proposal. A village, or equivalent unit - any self-respecting castle will function like a village! - to each 3-mile hex feels appropriate for a setting of European density, with a point of interest to each hex. That gives the players the opportunity to feel the scale of a setting, with interesting choices to make each hour or so of in-game time.

Interestingly, the Wilderness Exploration board game used 5 kilometre (that is, 3 mile) hexes. And Original Dungeons and Dragons used it, wholesale, as an overland travel system. So the 3-mile hex really isn't that weird.

Thievery, or Close-Up Magic? Picking Locks in Fifth Edition.

Plenty of people who play D&D 5e like to use that game's Sleight of Hand skill to determine whether a character can pick a lock. It's a popular house rule, advocated by at least one popular website and implemented in Baldur's Gate 3.

It's also wrong.

To see why, let's examine the rules. From the SRD, lest Hasbro's highly trained attack lawyers take umbrage:

Sleight of Hand. Whenever you attempt an act of legerdemain or manual trickery, such as planting something on someone else or concealing an object on your person, make a Dexterity (Sleight of Hand) check. The GM might also call for a Dexterity (Sleight of Hand) check to determine whether you can lift a coin purse off another person or slip something out of another person's pocket.

You know what that doesn't mention? Picking locks. Where is that mentioned? Under Tools:

Thieves' Tools. This set of tools includes a small file, a set of lock picks, a small mirror mounted on a metal handle, a set of narrow-bladed scissors, and a pair of pliers. Proficiency with these tools lets you add your proficiency bonus to any ability checks you make to disarm traps or open locks.

Notice, it doesn't actually say you have to use the tools to gain the proficiency bonus. This is important!

Meanwhile, in the Equipment section, there are such lines as [...]a creature proficient with thieves' tools can pick this lock[...]. No mention whatsoever of the Sleight of Hand skill. That, to me, is pretty conclusive. The 5e designers intended for proficiency with Thieves' Tools to be used for picking locks. Not proficiency in Sleight of Hand.

And why would it be the latter? A brief consultation of the Wikipedia page for sleight of hand will tell you what the skill covers. Manipulating objects cleverly with in order to entertain or deceive. It's true that someone with good manual dexterity is probably better than the average bear at picking locks. But the crossover between that and card tricks is really quite small.

In short, then, there is no reason - rules-as-written or logical - to think that the Sleight of Hand skill is applicable to picking locks.

So, how should it be done?

By making a Dexterity check, of course. In 5e, a player doesn't make a Thieves' Tools check, or a Sleight of Hand check. They make a Dexterity check, with bonuses as appropriate. The question is, then, what bonuses are appropriate?

Like any good old-school Referee, I tend towards an interpretation that the rules are suggestions, and shouldn't be construed as saying a character can't attempt an action. Any reasonable attempt at picking a lock ought to be given a chance at success. Which is where the Dice Goblin's suggestions about Time, Gear and Skill come in. And also the rules from Xanathar's Guide to Everything which state that if a character has a skill and the relevant tool, they make the check at advantage.

You see, 5e's 'Artisan's Tools' proficiencies are actually skill proficiencies. For some reason, the designers chose to have two skill systems. No, I don't understand it either.

What that means in practice? If a character wants to try and pick a lock, and has dreamt up a plausible way of doing so, think about Time, Gear and Skill.

If they have all three on their side - they have Thieves Tools, are trained to use them, and aren't in a hurry, they just open the lock. No check required, time just passes. If they're rushing, don't have the proper tools, and only a vague idea how to open a lock, then it's staying locked. Sorry, but that's life.

In between?

If they have plenty of time to mess around, the proper tools, or the proper training - but only one of the three - then it's a straight Dexterity check against the lock's DC. If they know how to use Thieves Tools, they get to add their proficiency bonus. Otherwise, they'd better hope they're lucky, or it's an easy lock.

If they have two of the three, they get to make the check at advantage. This is the properly-equipped thief who's hurrying, or who has plenty of time but lost their tools somehow and is improvising with a hairpin. Though they do still need to justify where they found the hairpin! Or the Fighter who figures they might as well bring some Thieves Tools to mess around with while the wizard is waving their hands around and chanting.

Given that good game design is that a character doing something they're good at should succeed about two-thirds of the time - this actually checks out. A standard lock in 5e requires a DC 15 Dexterity check to open. A first-level Rogue who's built for it probably has a +7 to Dexterity checks to open a lock, and needs to roll an 8 or higher to succeed, even when they're improvising and in a hurry. That's as close to two-thirds as rolling 1d20 allows. If they've got their tools, or have plenty of time, they'll almost always succeed - which is the class fantasy!

You can apply this approach to challenges involving other types of Artisan's Tools, of course. That's an exercise for the reader.

Why do people do this?

This come up because people don't understand Dungeons and Dragons. Both how to design the game, and how to run the game.

On the design side, lots of people think it's a good idea to have something important to 'their story' - and that's a problem in its own right! - behind a lock. If the players need to get through the door, open the chest, or whatever, then they have to be able to open the lock. If nobody has the right tools and training....  well, that's your carefully crafted railroad come to a crashing halt. End of adventure, the princess ate the dragon, the prophecy was not fulfilled, whatever. So, you need to find A Way to get the door unlocked. And, in amongst the 5e skill system, the thing that looks least unlike 'open a lock' is Sleight of Hand, apparently.

Secondly, at the table, the modern play culture doesn't actually like challenge all that much. The characters are viewed as fantasy superheroes who can solve any problem. And a simple, mundane lock... that's not something that should really pose a serious problem to such characters. So, when faced with it, they look at their character sheet in a panic, and once again - will Sleight of Hand work? The long-suffering referee has been trained to say yes to everything, since lots of GM advice can't tell the difference between a D&D table and an improv troupe. So, of course, they say it will.

But D&D isn't meant to be about fantasy superheroes who can solve everything. And there's not meant to be one way to solve a problem. If the door is locked, you find a solution. Which might not be as elegant as picking the lock. The Barbarian can knock it off its hinges. The Wizard can cast knock. The trained carpenter can cut through it. The Dwarf can get their clan to send some labourers to tunnel through the rock.

And, if nobody can figure it out? That door is staying locked. And whatever's on the other side of it, the players don't get it. Sorry. If it was important, there should have been another way to get it.

The Robgoblin appears. It appears friendly.

Back in January, Prismatic Wasteland posted the New Year's Resolution Mechanic challenge. I thought of a potentially interesting resolution mechanic, so I posted it in a comment. Another user suggested I start a blog... and I wasn't sure.

Then, in their acceptance speech for the Bloggies, sachagoat gave some advice about starting a blog. It's not that hard. The RPG blogosphere is full of cool people who probably won't bite (unless you ask, or have a really bad reaction roll).

So, eventually, here I am. I'll write about RPGs, based largely on what I think is cool and interesting. Which will mostly be mediaeval fantasy, and adjacent genres, with a slight old-school perspective on things. Also some board games. And maybe some other things. But probably gaming-related.

Because I have been schooled in the ancient lore, here is that interesting resolution mechanic:

You have an ability. The ability gives you some marbles. I don't know how many. Maybe you get the same number every time. Maybe you lose some each time you use them. It's probably best if each player had their own colour marbles.

You try to do a Thing. Someone - presumably the GM, if you have one - decides how hard the Thing is, and draws a shape on a level-ish, smooth-ish surface. If it's Very Hard, the shape is just big enough for a marble. If it's Very Easy, it's an enormous shape. Rough circles are probably easiest to draw.

You try and roll a marble into the shape. If you succeed, you do the Thing. If you have more marbles, you can try again. If other characters are trying to do the Thing, take turns. Or go at the same time if you prefer, it's your game. If you roll a marble and it hits another marble, that's a Consequence for the character whose marble you hit. Somebody think of a cool one. If your marble hits a other marble into the circle, then that's a success!

When you're out of marbles, you're out of chances.