Monthly Archives: October 2010

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Rethinking Halflings 2

Yesterday I sketched out a vision of Hobbits/Halflings that I’m working on for an upcoming campaign. I’d kick around a few example communities since everyone seems pretty into the idea. (For you tl;dr types, there’s a normal shire,  a troop of zombie hunters and a family of halfling illuminati.)

There are three key ideas in yesterday’s post:

Halflings are very conformist (lawful), in the way Japanese culture can be conformist but maybe more intense than that.

They reproduce quickly and are experts at cultivating the land. They survive largely because their numbers are so great.

Halfling communities are defined by charters, documents that spell out in great detail how that community will be run. It governs both overall goals and everyday matters.

With that in mind, for those of you who like longer pieces, here are a few halfling communities you can drop in your game.

Wormgrunters of Baronswood Shire

Forty years past, the Baron’s Wood was a game forest reserved for the Donhellee Clan. When the Baron and his men were away at war, two halfling families formerly of Dunwill moved into the forest.

Today, the Baronswood Shire is home to twenty thousand halflings and their livestock, cats, dogs and worms. The residents call themselves “wormgrunters” after their expertise in vermiculture. The shire exports their best worms to other halfling settlements and sells the leftovers to the local humans. Their crop rotation, irrigation and waste management plans are all support this industry. It is rumored that they have managed to grow worms large enough to swallow a fully grown human.

Wormgrunters have lived in peace with their human neighbors since the treaty of Donhelleeton was signed in the year 22 AS (after settling).  This treaty ended a bloody ten-year struggle between the local human population (2,400) and the newly settled ‘grunters. Over 1,500 acres of the Donhellee’s private wood were sold to the halflings in exchange for a semi-annual payment of crops and an agreement to cap the ‘grunter population at eight hundred. The treaty was amended three times, exchanging more land and higher population limits for more frequent payments of food and stronger wine to a dwindling but content human population. There are now three hundred humans spread across Donhellee. Many families left, despite the benefits of this agreement, because the birth rate suddenly dropped. Some humans claimed the halfling wines were to blame. Others said halfling witches had cursed them. In actuality, halflings give off small amounts of pheromones that somehow block fertilization in other races (another reason why there are no half-halflings).

The Wormgrunter’s charter establishes an elected mayoralty which is passed in turn between the heads of eight families (no one would be so rude as to not vote for the candidate whose turn it is). Marriages are in four, eight, twelve and twenty year terms, renewable by both parties provided the required number of children are birthed during the fourth and/or eleventh month of designated years during the contract. Property is owned by the family and dwellings are rotated every two years. Sewer maintenance duties are rotated between age groups on a monthly basis.

If the community can be said to have one problem, it is pipeweed. The youngest generation is not smoking enough of it to maintain a trade balance with the Leafroller’s of Southhill. There is no known reason for the decrease in smoking, and in fact pouches of the leaf bear labels touting the benefits of a relaxed mind and increased appetite that comes from a good pipe. Since there is no charter or treaty that requires pipeweed consumption, the mayor is at a loss and has considered consulting an oracle or human wizard.

The Wormgrunters trace their heritage to the Beatlewranglers of the southern continent and have sent out their own settlers four times. Two settlements are successful, one died in route to the eastern shore and one headed north has disappeared.

Stakers

The Stakers are a small community of halflings living in the mountains bordering between Nordland and Sudland. Their charter is only a few years old, having been passed by a vote less than three years ago under the leadership of the late Borro Macehand. The Stakers are a lost caravan of Wormgrunters, who left the comfortable life in Barronswood ten years ago heading north toward Nordland.

The caravan was stuck in a snowstorm when a pack of ghouls fell upon them. After a week of terror, Borro and the surviving forty settlers managed to escape on improvised sleds. Having lost their families and their charter, Borro and his sister Brandy wrote a new charter with destruction of the undead its ultimate goal. Borro Macehand was pulled to pieces by a pack of wights. His sister, Brandy Wightburner is the Mother-General.

The Staker Charter emphasizes combat readiness, mobility, scientific study of the undead, rapid procreation and a decentralized command, allowing groups to escape and re-establish the charter when necessary. While the charter is written, it is also memorized by all children just in case.

The first milestone in the charter is the establishment of a base of operations, such as a fortress. Since the number of undead in the area has been growing steadily, the Stakers had better hurry.

Walkers

Walkers are a secretive halfling group, more like a conspiracy than a settlement. They live in “regular” halfling communities, having infiltrated posing as distant cousins or settlers from related communities. They live as normal halflings, often quite successful and admired, but all the time they are working under the charter of the Walkers. Walkers have their own language, writing, rituals, and secret handshakes. Some dabble in the occult or go off on adventures to gain arcane artifacts or knowledge.

Most Walkers have a simple role, such as skimming funds out of municipal budgets, sabotaging certain crops in crucial years or quietly disposing of particular citizens. A smart Walker might rise to a position of importance, such as vice-mayor, charter-holder or even chancellor of a region (multiple communities). They receive instructions from merchants who speak in code, or in innocuous-looking letters from distant kin.

It is a rare elder who knows anything about the Walkers. Those that do have a hard time convincing anyone they are a real threat. If Walkers do live in the community, they will try to make the suspicious halfling paranoid, until he is committed or is driven out. Occasionally, a Walker will not be able to take the pressure that comes from having any sort of secret from the community, and working at cross-purposes takes its toll. If they begin spilling Walker secrets, they are usually found hanging from a tree or at the bottom of a well, clearly a poor, mad soul.

The Walker’s ultimate goal and the identity of its leadership should be decided by the DM. Goals should be nasty and long-term (but perhaps near key milestones or close to fruition) and should involve terrible consequences for halfling and human alike. One suggested short-term goal is the collapse of the pipe-weed market.

There. I hope this inspired someone. If you like this series, check out the hit job I did on elves last month.

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Rethinking Hobb– er, Halflings

Let’s mess with Hobbiton.

Halflings, as the big folk call them, are the army ants of the humanoid world. Once they’ve established a settlement in your county, you’d might as well pack up and head west. There is no force on the planet that will transform the landscape quite like they do.

A band of halflings leaves a settlement because the charts say it it time (see below). They find a nice spot of land and drop their backpacks. Trees are cleared, earth is tilled, vegetables are planted. Beer is brewed. Tunnels are constructed, the entrances to which are well-concealed. They don’t make a lot of noise and their celebrations are deliberately low-key affairs (for now).

Babies are made. Halflings have a gestation period of about four months and mature to adulthood by age 8. A band of twelve halflings can be a village of 24-30 adults and almost 200 children within eight years and that’s when the genders are evenly split and no cousins come join them (which they inevitably do). Within a decade or two, that nice wood by the lake is now a plantation growing pipeweed, vegetables, cotton, barley, juniper and any other cash crop you care to mention.

Halflings are incredibly industrious farmers. They can get the most out of any arable land. On average, their harvests are 25% more bountiful than human harvests of similar land in similar conditions. They live to work and then they live to eat. When not farming, they pick and store every berry, mushroom, nut and edible plant within ten miles. This is all stored, eaten or sent on carts to faraway towns, where halfling merchants trade preserved fruits, dried vegetables, baked goods, their reknowned wines and beers for tools and weapons (they are mediocre to lousy metalsmiths and craftsmen). Those settlements which are not vegetarian have excellent hunters and fishermen among them.

Charters

Halfling society is very regimented and conformist. The main unit of community is the settlement. Each settlement has a charter, which is a volumes-long set of rules and charts detailing every detail of the settlement’s plan. There are rules for what names may be given, what ales may be brewed and what colors are worn in a given year. There are particular seasons for love and for childbearing (having a child out of season is somewhat embarrassing and stigmatizing, but it happens). Charters vary between settlements, but those in a particular region of the campaign world tend to be very similar. Halflings may disagree, sometimes vehemently, about the worthiness of another settlement’s charter, but compared to the way other races run their affairs, most halflings would conclude that even the worst, most stifling and cruel halfling charter is better than none.

In one common line of charters, couples are wed for eight years at a time, after which they move to another marriage until they are past childbearing age and may marry whomever they want. Some halfling communities follow a matriarchal charter that allows for faster reproduction and ties important families to the queen through a polyandrous husband/hostage system. There even some little-known settlements where charters direct the settlement in the ways of infiltration and takeover of other settlements, the worship of dark powers or other nefarious ends.

Warfare

Most charters call for two months out of ever year to be spent drilling in techniques of warfare. Halfling tactics are similar to those of army ants. They overpower with sheer numbers of fanatical warriors armed with short spears, swords and shields. Even human calvary units have been known to fall back a the sight of a halfling legion.

Adventurer halflings are almost always outcasts, either before or because of their adventuring. They are just not supposed to break ranks! Any halfling adventurer will suffer reaction rolls as if they were five points lower in charisma when they meet normal halflings (aside from traders and merchants in human cities). Halfling adventurers are often very resentful and lonely, and many seek relationships and companionship with larger folk.

Halflings are almost always lawful in alignment. Adventurer halflings can be of any alignment. All halfling adults can cook, read, write, farm and judge the arability of land. Many can also hunt and fish.

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Rethinking Giants: These Are Actually Giant

Why are the 1st edition Monster Manual giants so small? Did Gary want to make sure that everything was killable? In the AD&D Monster Manual, a Storm Giant had 15 HD, three less than a T-rex. And they were only 21 feet tall.

Let’s embiggen these guys.

Take the giants from your favorite monster manual and multiply their hit dice and height by a factor of eight to twenty, depending on your tastes. Me, I’d make them maybe ten to fifty times taller (Storm Giant would be 210 – 1050 feet tall).

The bigger you make them, the easier it would be to sneak up on them. It would also be harder for the giant to hear them. And they need more to eat when they eat.

Give them attacks that do tremendous area of effect damage with fists or thrown objects (trees, boulders, the tops of small hills…). Armor class should be ten, but any attack doing less than HD/10 HP isn’t felt and has no effect (unless you stab them in the eye).

Movement is trickier. If there is no significant obstacles, then a running giant would have a stride of about 1.14 times his height. So each step would be .507 his height. So for six second rounds, you could say he moves height x 1.14 if you assume that it would take six seconds for one stride. Which seems slow to us, but remember the terrain isn’t likely to be flat and giants would need to be careful not to fall. A one minute round would mean they move height x 1.14 x 10. A ten-minute turn would be height x 1.14 x 100.  I am guessing that the opportunities and need for the largest of giants to run are few and far between, so you can cap it if you want.

Sample size/HD/movement rates:

Labyrinth Lord Hill Giant, XL (x5)

60 feet tall, 40 HD, Moves 68 feet/six seconds, 115/ ten seconds, 685 feet/minute

Labyrinth Lord Fire Giant, XXL (x 10)

160 feet tall, 110 HD (+20 HP), Moves 182 feet/six seconds, 304 feet/ten seconds, 1828 feet/minute and 18280 feet/ten minute turn. So in ten minutes, over three miles.

One more.

Labyrinth Lord Storm Giant XXL (x20)

420 feet tall, 300 HD, Moves 478 feet/six seconds, 800 feet/ten seconds, 4800 feet/minute and 48000 feet/ten minute turn. Nine miles in ten minutes!  If he could run nonstop, he could circle the Earth in less than 19 days.

So what’s the point, really? At this point, these are forces of nature. They are tougher than the divine beings of Deities and Demigods–Why stat these guys in the first place?

Two words: Monster fights. More soon.

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Why are Those Orcs Wearing Lipstick?

The party’s scout peers over the fence. Two of the orcs are stand in front of the others, dressed as orcish women with exaggerated femininity and impossibly buxom anatomy. Two others are walking on their knees dressed as halflings, smoking pipes and speaking in squeeky-high voices. One has a gigantic fake phallus emerging from his cloak. The rest of the camp is doubled over in laughter.

The popular play Courtship of the River Women is a comedy, an a raunchy one at that. The women of an orcish village decide they have had enough of waiting for their husbands, who are at war. They take on male halfling slaves as lovers. Most of the play involves the elaborate and comic ways in which the orcish women trick the halflings into bed. After many hijinks, the men return to discover their wives refuse to have sex with them until they give up war and take up farming (there is a repeating gag about the size of vegetables). The men listen thoughtfully, hold a pow-wow, then kill and eat the women and the halflings.

So it is a comedy by the definition of orcish poetics.

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Outcast Mages

In my last two posts, I’ve played with the idea that Magic Users can be established in a campaign as hermits, con-men and outcasts. This can be done without changing the rules or the class in any appreciable way, aside from perhaps changing the way the Read Magic spell is learned.

Here’s a few brief character backgrounds that you might find useful.

Renard (level 1) was a wagon driver’s son. When a hitchhiking traveler felled bandits by throwing rainbow lights from his hands, he was in the way, but lived. The old man’s chanting suddenly made sense to him, which lead to nightmares. Years later, as an apprentice to a bookbinder, he discovered he could read a client’s book that contained the old man’s verse. This was First Spell (read magic). He copied the entire book and has memorized one other poem from it (magic missile). He can’t wait to say the verse aloud to see what happens.

Nicolette (Level 2) married well, passing from her father’s modest but noble household into the house of her husband’s father, the Count Dufresne. The morning after her wedding night, her mother-in-law instructed her in the expectations of the ladies of House Dufresne. She was horrified to discover that the women of Dufresne, unbeknownst to their husbands, have maintained the family position and wealth through the use of witchcraft. After a year she escaped, hoping to find some way of atoning for her great sin of sorcery. Unfortunately, she cannot get through the day without spells in her head, so she has brought along a spell book. She has no idea where she will go and is sure her mother-in-law is hunting her. (She is right but does not know her mother-in-law is a lich).

Asa (Level 5) is a wife, mother of four and the matriarch of troupe of traveling performers. She is no longer the acrobat she once was, but the magic she learned as a child from her grandmother has helped her on many occasions. She uses it to enhance fireworks, catch falling acrobats, cover the tracks of her pickpocket son, and grow and remove the beard from her prettiest daughter. The women of her clan know the spells of illusion and scrying. The men learn magical combat and the ceremonies of summoning. Her husband is level 4. Most of the clan’s adults are levels 1-3.

Le Grognard (Level 12) is what the locals call Pollard of Huc. He mumbles to himself as he goes about his day. He is old, fat and unkempt. He spends most of his time traveling to far-away cities, looking through old libraries and temples for bits and pieces of spells. He is convinced that he can unlock the secrets of the spell creators. Although he himself knows a fortune’s worth of spells, he considers them of little value and sells them to anyone with the coin he needs to keep up his research. He cares not for good nor evil and is capable of both in great extremes, provided they further his quest.

Prince Johann (Level 4) wanted to be a mage since his nanny first tried to frighten him with stories of mages who turn bad little princes into newts. He killed an outcast mage girl for her spells, after making her teach him the First Spell at knifepoint. He pays top dollar for spells and kills any seller he deems weaker than himself. This expensive habit could not be hidden from his father’s bookkeepers, so he has incurred considerable personal debt in pursuit of his hobby. He has considered going on the road to seek out new spells and new treasures, hoping to either pay back or kill his debtors.

Leo (Ex-Cleric level 5, now a Mage level 2) was the Abbot of the Swan Abbey. He had sent a Knight of the Sun on a quest to bring him a scroll that, according to Leo’s interpretation of scripture, outlined the long lost vigil prayer Raise Dead. Leo was close, but wrong on one crucial detail. The scroll contained the First Spell, followed by an arcane spell which animated the bodies of the abbey’s long-dead abbots. After those monsters killed all Leo’s brothers and burned down the monastery, Leo was, to say the least, a changed man with a crisis of faith. He is now quite mad, and knowing no other spells, casts animate dead almost daily, hoping to resurect his lost monks. (Yes, he isn’t high enough level to cast it normally. Who cares? He’s an NPC.)

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My Ettin vs. Porn Stars

Zak asked for everyone’s ideas late Friday night and said he’d put them all in the sandbox. I posted a short paragraph about the Ettin I’d retooled a while back. Lo and behold, it turned out to be the big combat of the session. To be clear, it was his interpretation of my short idea that took them on, not any monster of my own devising.

Nonetheless, I post this because I find it gratifying that someone had fun with one of my ideas and specifically Zak and his crew. It was this post on Zak’s blog that inspired me to start writing my ideas down for you (all three of you). His posts exemplify the kind of creativity and fresh thinking about the game that I hope to develop by doing this.

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Rethinking Magic Users 2

Magic is not learned from a college. Like jazz, blues and any non-formalized style of music, it’s acquired by observation. You steal it from your betters.

Let’s look at how mages come to be. He or she might come from any walk of life, but most mages are born slaves, peasants or in wandering communities of traders, thieves or actors. As I mentioned yesterday, mages are reviled in most places. Their magic is considered blasphemy by clerics, uncontrollable by kings and dangerous by normal folk. They are often persecuted and must hide their talents.

So how does one get on this road?

It starts with the First Spell, which has many names, but in game mechanics, it most resembles Read Magic. It is a short spell that can be understood by anyone, regardless of their native language.

In its verses are every sound of spoken magic and a thorough and unsettling explanation of the chaotic worldview that underlies all non-divine magic . Anyone speaking the entire spell can thenceforth read their native tongue and any written magic (provided they have recited the spell enough to commit it to memory so it comes off the tongue as easily as any cast spell). He or she is also immediately of chaotic alignment (this is obviously taken from LotFP Weird Fantasy). The meaning of the verse is not kind knowledge and some who do memorize it and speak aloud its secret go mad, never to learn a second spell.

Anyone who hears the spell often enough is bound to learn it eventually. A mages’ lover, spouse, child or even close neighbor will hear it under her breath as she performs almost any activity (this is similar to the way Tibetans repeat mantras in everyday life). If you pester a mage as he sits in a pub, disturbing his peace, he might grab you by the collar and shout the words in your face until you piss off. You might pick up the entire spell by accident. Some mages will teach it to those they feel the petitioner would fit in well with the community or who have money, food or other service to offer. Many mages fall into magic because they have no other prospects, no land to farm and no skills.

Once one has said the spell, he or she is forever a mage and is overcome by a desperate need to learn more spells. This stage is most like an addiction. New spellcasters have been known to spend their last penny or sign into service for a year or more for a simple spell or two (an experienced mage would teach nothing dangerous to a novice). This is as close to a master/apprentice relationship as you are likely to find and it does not always end happily. After the first few levels, the mage is able to calm down and the need is more of an intense desire or life goal than a desperate need.

In the mage community, wealth has a tendency to travel quickly to the top, where mages with large spell books are able to charge fortunes from the less-skilled.

There are magic users who actually research, but they are very rare. It is difficult to conduct experiments from a mule-drawn wagon and there are many costs and dangers associated with settling down. The few labs there are can be found in remote towers or underground caves. Besides, most mages would tell you that researching magic is a waste of time. Magic’s secrets are long lost and the errant fools who would re-invent it would be better off searching the world for long lost spell books than blowing themselves up in labs. Spells are usually named after their discoverer, not the author (if even a name is known).

One dirty secret the elves don’t like to talk about: Many assume that arcane magic came from the elves. Some mages even hunt or extort elves to get more spells. A select few know that elven magic of old was far more powerful than anything any human mage has cast. The elves are actually very capable casters of human magic, magic they have learned from vagabonds and con-men.

I’m going to cook u a few backstories to serve as examples, but I think you are all bright enough to come up with your own scenarios.

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Rethinking Magic Users

For better or worse, I have always imagined magic users as being learned men and women who studies at a magic college, apprenticed to a master, poured over dusty tomes in the stacks of arcane libraries. I’m going to throw most all of that out and see if there isn’t something more interesting that can be done without going against most of the rules of the basic edition and its clones.

Ever wonder why there is no minimum intelligence score to make a magic user in Basic D&D? Magic Users (mages) are memorizers of lines who require no real skill beyond concentration and the ability to speak.  Instead of trying to decode and research magic, most just learn what spells they can get access to. Any who uncover an ancient forgotten spell had best keep it to themselves or be able to defend against challengers who will not take no for an answer.

Magic users live on the fringes of society, often without a home or family that will welcome them. Many live among travelling communities, where their skills are valued as protection against angry villagers, sheriffs and the creatures of the dark. Like magicians, gun-slingers and comics in our more recent times, they all know each other by reputation and most mages in any culturally similar area will have met at least once.

Most are poor, by the standards of lower nobility. They talk to themselves or to unseen beings and all of them are decidedly eccentric. Most mages, male and female, dress outlandishly with large hats (with thanks to JB at B/X Blackrazor). It is very rare to find a mage that isn’t an athiest, or if they believe gods exist, they do not revere them as The Gods but rather fear them. Because of this, many mages are prone to overdrinking or heavy addictions to laudanum or purple mushroom powder.

Most mages know prestidigitation, common confidence games and will use those with their magic powers to relieve the gullible of their pie, meade, drugs, money and virginity. Because this leads to trouble, they often have different names they use in different towns. In many communities, mages are immediately locked up, put in the stock or hanged not just for the abomination of magic (which in some places is not such a big deal) but because the reputation mages have with the locals. The common thief is considered more respectable.

From time to time, mages will engage in duels with one another, although usually this is a means of demonstrating power, which can then be traded. Occasionally, mages gather in a specific place (determined by the stars) and socialize, trade secrets, stories, hats and so forth. Mages will also come together in cases where a renowned magic user has come to harm. Especially loved magic users, or those well-known outside the magic world are avenged in ghastly ways rarely forgotten. For a few years after, mages will not be harassed as aggressively.

Unlike thieves, mages do have their own language, which is a pidgin mixing any local tongue they know with words from the Read Magic spell (the one spell all mages know, the nature of which is explained next post). They also communicate with secret symbols carved on trees, rocks and in mud.

More to come. (Honest, I’ve already written it!)

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Baubles of Doom 2 – The Drum of Judgement

The drum may only be played by the righteous. This block of wood has wedges and faces carved into it, so that striking the top of the drum sounds one of four notes. Should the player have strayed from the moral code of the drum, one of the notes will fail. Should one of the notes fail, a consequence is determined by random roll. A failed note should be accompanied by descriptions of sudden silence, as if the world stood still and took notice. This should be ominous. The player of the note will immediately remember any and all offenses committed and understand that punishment is coming to the entire party. It’s probably best if the party does not know.

Should the player sound all notes correctly, the spirit of the drum will grant one great boon to the party. If the DM cannot think of a good boon (such as find our way home, the mountain pass melting early, the dragon lose their trail, etc.) then the voice of the drum will ask the party what their common desire is and it will be granted, at discretion fo the DM. The spirit does not seek to twist the words of a request, as would a devil, but it is rather unsophisticated and literal.

Note 1:  AH – This measures the moral condition of the character in relation to the sky, particularly bird, bats and creatures that live in trees, such as monkeys. Should the character have committed any offenses against the sky, the note will fail and d100 giant bats will pursue the party any time they are above ground on within a cave.

Note 2: KU – This is the note of the ground. If the character has spilled the blood of any earth creatures smarter than, say, a mole, the party will be pursued by a 10HD earth elemental/doppleganger. This avenging spirit will follow the characters and catch them off guard when they are underground.

Note 3: MO – This is the note of the ocean. Should the player have offended the ocean or its spirits, all water in the party’s possession will violently sublimate into steam.

Note 4: SAH – This note represents the tribe, race or community who created this artifact (up to DM) so that any serious offenses to that group will cause the note to fail. The party will then be pursued by 2d6 x 10 agents or members of that group, who will arrive in 2d4 hours. The pursuers will not stop until the entire party is dead or the offense has been undone, the dept paid or the karma purified.

This item was inspired by an item I found just a few minutes ago looking over the Metropolitan Museum of art’s Heilbronn Timeline of Art History.

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