Obfuscation Through Volume

GM: After falling through the floor above, you land about 10 feet below. As the dust settles, you see that you're in a simple stone room which appears to have been used in the recent past as a large creature's den. There are bones scattered about, and a nest of some kind in the corner. The walls in the South East corner have been knocked away, and a ten foot wide tunnel extends beyond them. To the north is a simple iron door.
Lirnef: If we just fell into the nest of the Forest Serpent, then we need to get out of here. We barely escaped that last encounter. Lets head out the door.
GM: Does the party agree to exit through the door?
*Party nods*
GM: What's your marching order?
*Party looks amongst themselves*
Merrag: Sedger, you have the most HP. I think I have spell to boost your saving throw prepared, let me cast that.
Sedger: Alright, I think I'm ready. I open the door.
GM: When you place your hand on the door's handle-
Sedger: Woah, woah! I didn't say I put my hand on the handle.
GM: Then how did you plan to open it?
Sedger: I kicked it open.
*GM facepalms*
GM: You...kick it open?
Sedger: Yup.
GM: Well since you didn't turn the latch, you'll need to roll a strength check.
*dice clatter*
Sedger: 28!
GM: The door falls inwards. The poison dart trap in the handle fires impotently into the stone wall.

Every GM is familiar with the scenario above. It is our bane, but sometimes we must ask questions which allows the players to easily infer some knowledge which they shouldn't know. As GMs grow more experienced, they learn ways to counteract the most common of these questions. Marching orders can be established at the start of the dungeon, requiring players to speak up beforehand if they think they'd like to change it. And common actions, like opening doors, are performed using common methods unless the players specify otherwise in advance. Yet the problem remains. Even players who try to avoid metagaming don't want their characters to get hurt, and if the GM tips his or her hand with a poorly timed question, who can blame a player for taking advantage of that?

A few years ago, I scrolled down below the Goblins comic to read Thunt's blog. Normally his blog is just comic news, convention news, life news, things like that. But on this particular day, it was a collection of dungeon mastering tricks which had worked for him in the past. Unfortunately, there's not really a good navigation for the blog part of the site, and google isn't turning up the specific entry I remember, so I can't link to the original. In the post he mentioned an idea which has stuck with me: the problem of a GM's questions providing players with unintended information can be solved by asking 'useless' questions.

As an example, lets imagine that a player who wields a sword and shield is leading the group through a door. After failing a stealth check earlier, the orcs on the other side of that door, which the players don't know about, have been alerted to their presence. As soon as the door opens, a half dozen orcish bows will fire arrows at whoever is standing in front. Since the lead player's shield will have a strong impact on how many of those arrows hit him, the GM might ask "What do you do with your sword and shield when you open the door? You'll need at least one free hand to grasp the latch." This is the kind of question which any competent player will recognize as indicative of something unusual going on. That doesn't mean the players will always make the right choice. The lead player may decide that their sword will be important as soon as he or she opens the door, and will tell the GM that they set down their shield. Or they might also choose to stand to the side of the door, and open it from a covered position. The problem isn't the choice they make, but rather, the fact that those choices are informed by information they shouldn't have.

Now consider the same scenario. Sword & Board leader, door, orcs with arrows, and the question. But this time, imagine that the GM had been asking simple questions at many of the previous doors as well. Not all of them, and not always the same question either. Three doors ago the GM had asked which hand was used to open the door. Two doors before that, the GM said the the door was just slightly stuck, and asked how the player wanted to apply additional force to get it open. There had also been that wooden door, when the GM wanted to know whether the players opened it inward, or outward. None of those doors had anything special behind them, and at this point the players don't expect there to be. So this time, the player won't set down their shield because they think they'll need their sword more, nor do they stand to the side of the door and open it from cover because they're worried about traps. The player does whatever seems the most reasonable, which is precisely what you want them to do. Not because you want them to fail or to succeed, but because you want your players to experience the game without outside influences.

Asking questions like this has an added benefit as well. In addition to obscuring a GM's important questions, asking players to describe how their character perform simple actions gets the players thinking the way their character would. I can imagine that after a few sessions, players might even start offering some information without being asked, if they feel they may be in danger. So even the 'useless' questions aren't entirely without value.

I've put together some examples of situations where the GM might ask questions, along with a selection of different questions to ask so you don't start to sound like a broken record. Bear in mind that most of the time, only one of these questions should be asked at a time, and not every time the action is performed. The goal is to ask often enough that your players don't read into your questions, but not so often that you slow down the game.

Opening a door or chest

• What do you do with the items in your hand while you open it?
• Do you open it particularly quickly or slowly?
• It is somewhat stuck and does not open immediately. [Then, if the player decides to apply more force] How do you go about forcing the door open?
• Which hand do you use to open it?
• It opens both inwards and outwards. Which way do you open it?
• Do you step through/reach in as soon as it is open?
• It is particularly heavy and requires more strength than one hand. How do you apply greater strength?
  

Moving into or through a new area

• Do you look back to see if there's anything on the walls you just passed?
• Do you walk through the light entering in through the cracks high on the wall?
  
• How close to the statue do you walk?
• [If the players indicate a door they would like to exit through, or object they would like to inspect] What is your path through the room?

An inventory item is used

• [If the item is small] Where do you keep this item on your person?
• [If the item is large, or if the previous question was answered "it's in my pack."] How do you remove it from your bag?
• Do you need to take other items out of your pack to get to it?
• How many of those do you have left?
• [For potions] What do you do with the container once you've used the potion?

An object is touched or picked up

• Which hand do you use to touch it with?
• Are you wearing gloves?
• Are you touching/grabbing it more gently, or more forcefully?
• Do you look at it first, or do you place it immediately into storage on your person/in your pack.
• Do you let the other party members see it?
  

Crossing a bridge

• How far apart do you walk from one another?
• How quickly do you cross the bridge?
• [For a rope bridge] When the bridge sways, do you stop and hold on, or continue walking?
• Where do you direct your eyes? At the other side,or at your feet?
  

Walking down a corridor

• [If the corridor is wider than 5ft] This corridor is wide enough for you to walk two abreast. Do you, or do you walk single file?
• Are you making an effort to move particularly cautiously or quietly? If so, what precautions are you taking?
• Are you testing for traps with your 10ft pole?
• Do you attempt to break up cobwebs before walking through them, or do you just ignore them?
• Do you try to shield yourself from the water dripping from the ceiling?
  
• Is the bard humming?
  
• Are you paying any particular attention to the architecture?

Setting up camp for the night

• Do you make a fire?
• Do you cook any food, or just eat trail rations?
  
• Do you leave the campfire burning while you sleep, or not?
• Are you keeping watch? If so, what is the watch order?
• Is anyone with abilities requiring 8 hours rest (Wizard, Cleric, etc) part of the watch rotation?
  
• Do you leave your food out, or do you pack it away before you go to sleep?
• Are you sleeping around the fire, or within a tent?
  
• What direction does the tent face?
• What are the sleeping arrangements?
• Are you sleeping with your armor off, or will you take the exhaustion penalties tomorrow?
• About what time do you decide to go to sleep?
• Do you explore the area around the campsite at all before settling down?
  

Breaking down camp in the morning

• Does the Wizard / Cleric wake up earlier than everyone else to prepare their spells, or do they wake up with the others and make them wait?
• What time do you wake up?
• Do you put out the fire before you leave?
• Do you attempt to conceal your campsite at all?
• Do you have breakfast before you leave?
  
• What time do you wake up, and how long before you set out?

Looking for something in a city, or "asking around"

• What types of places do you go to ask about/find what you're looking for?
• Do you attempt to bribe anyone?
• How open are you in your questioning?
• How do you phrase your questions?
• To you tell people your name?
• Do you tell anyone that what you're seeking is urgent, or of great importance?
• Do you lie to people to get answers if necessary?
• Do you speak to anyone in a guard's uniform?
  

And one final note. The paradigm example of this problem is the perception check. The GM asks players for a perception check to see if they notice something, and the players roll low. But since players aren't dumb, they know that the GM's announcement that they didn't notice anything only means that whatever is out there is too stealthy for them. This problem is easily solved by making note of each character's perception skill, and rolling in secret behind the GM screen, without any announcements in the first place. I sometimes roll meaningless rolls and glance at the result just so my players won't come to associate unannounced die rolls with missed checks.

Wizard Spell Research Variant

Wizards are the scholars of Pathfinder. Other spellcasting classes, such as the sorcerer, cleric, or druid, draw their powers from their ancestry, their gods, or nature itself. The unique flavor of wizards is that they are the scientists of a magical world. Their power comes from hours of study, and dutifully logged research. At each level, wizards automatically learn two new spells which represent research performed between adventures. A wizard can also learn new spells by studying the spellbooks of other wizards. The only real limit on the number of spells a wizard can know is however many books the GM will let him get away with carrying.

This versatility is one of the great draws of the wizard class. Unfortunately, the nearly limitless ability to expand their spell repertoire also allow wizards to completely overshadow the other classes. This uncontested dominance has plagued the game ever since D&D 3rd edition's release. Over time, balance has improved through lowering the effectiveness of some spells, and increasing the abilities of other classes, but wizards are still considerably overpowered in Pathfinder.

Editions ago, when wizards were still called magic users, this was not as much of an issue. I'm not exactly an expert on older versions of D&D, but my understanding is that not only did wizards level at a slower rate than other classes do, but their abilities were also significantly less comprehensive. In Pathfinder, the idea is that anything which can happen in the game world can potentially be achieved by players. If there are mighty magic users who can cast spells powerful enough to raise continents out of the sea, then players should be able to look forward to similar abilities at some point. Obviously this creates much more powerful casters, but I don't think I would want to give either of these things up. I like that ever class levels at the same rate, and I like that nothing is ever completely out of reach of player characters. I would, however, like to see wizards brought more in line with other classes. It's a problem which is often floating around the periphery of my awareness. I haven't come up with a solid solution, but recently I struck upon an idea which I think is flavorful, interesting, and goes a small way towards helping with balance issues.

As I've posted about before, I've been reading a few first edition D&D modules. Alas I've been too busy to really make a dent in the small stack of them that I have, but one thing I've noticed is the big to-do which is made about NPC spellbooks. Any time a magic user appears in a module, the author makes note of where the magic user keeps his or her spellbook, and what spells are in it. Magic users often seem to go to great lengths to hide their books. It seems that in 1st edition, stealing finding and stealing a spellbook was considered a great prize. And why shouldn't it be? In first edition, as in Pathfinder, getting your hands on someone else' spell book means that--after a little study--all of that person's spells can be added to your own collection.

I toyed with this idea for awhile, not really sure what I wanted to do with it. I could start making spellbooks a bigger part of my games, but all that would do is make any wizard players more overpowered than they already were. I jotted the idea down in one of my notebooks for future reference, and promptly forgot about it for a few weeks. That's when I read a post by Paul over at Blog of Holding called 4e Spells as Treasure. I find it amusing that many of my best ideas come after reading Blog of Holding, since it most often focuses on 4th edition D&D, a game which I find personally quite distasteful. In this post, Paul discusses the possibility of including scrolls which have improved versions of spells in treasure hordes. Wizards could transcribe the spells into their books, and forever be able to cast a slightly better version of a common spell. This set me to thinking:

What if wizards only learned spells by finding them?

It wouldn't be difficult. Simply drop the 2 spells wizards learn automatically with each new level. Since those spells are explained as research performed between adventures, all a GM need say is that spell research in the game world is significantly more time consuming and difficult than in the standard Pathfinder game. Players could still research spells on their own, but doing so would need to be handled with the GM, and would probably have significant costs associated with it. As Paul writes, "DMs and players can go crazy with rules for spending money on research, libraries, and labs."

Using this house rule, characters would no longer be able to learn spells independently from the game world. Players never like to see their characters become weaker, but once they accepted this way of doing things, I think it would make spell acquisition a much more involving and entertaining process. Gaining two new spells instantaneously with each level is fine, but it's an abstraction which reminds everyone that they're playing a game. Instead, every time players encountered a wizard, they would be engaged in trying either to befriend her so they could learn from her, or defeat her so they could steal her secrets.

This house rule also provides the GM with useful tools for controlling their game world. Many spells make a GMs job significantly more difficult, such as the various permutations of polymorph, flight spells, teleportation spells, invisibility spells, and worst of all, divination spells. And while I think it would be inadvisable to simply block players from ever finding these spells, this rule does give the GM a throttle with which to control their inclusion in the game. Overland Flight, for example, might never appear in the game until an enemy wizard uses it in a level 14 adventure. If the players then earn the spell by defeating their foe and finding his spellbook, it's still just a 5th level spell. But the GM is able to prevent it from effecting the game until they're ready for it, 5 levels after it would normally be available to characters.

Another benefit of this house rule is that treasure hordes become much more interesting. My experience with D&D is that most GMs include two things in treasure piles: coins, and gear they want their players to use. I did this myself for many years, so I understand the desire to simplify player rewards. Artwork, weapons which won't be used, and even gems seem like they're simply obstructions to game play. All the player will want to do is find out how much gold he can get in exchange for these items, and sell them as soon as they can. But simple treasure hordes become boring very quickly. Players can only get excited about a pile of coins and a replacement for their weapon with an extra +1 on it so many times. Including the spellbooks of long dead magic users, or even just scrolls containing a new spell, will go a long way towards getting players more excited about what they find.

It's just a thought at this point. I haven't had an opportunity to implement this rule in a game yet. When I do I'll be sure to take copious notes on player reactions and update the blog on how it went.

Why Hex Maps Need to Come Back

Above is a selection from the wilderness map created for "The Endless Stair," a TSR module for 1st edition Dungeons and Dragons originally published in 1987. Prior to the release of third edition D&D by Wizards of the Coast, maps such as this were commonplace. With that release, for reasons unknown to me, Wizards of the Coast apparently thought it was best to completely sever the connection between D&D and the noble hexagon. As a tabletop role player who started with D&D 3.x, I spent a number of years vaguely aware that some people liked hexes, but had to context as to how they could be beneficial.

It was Trollsmyth's superb series of hex mapping posts which finally drove home for me the importance of hex maps. They are not intended as a replacement for maps constructed using squares, but rather, are intended to supplement those maps in situations where squares are less appropriate. Squares work best for dungeons and other structures, where walls and rooms and corridors often snap neatly into a square grid anyway. In fact, the module I mentioned above, The Endless Stair, contains a number of dungeon maps printed on a square grid.

What hex maps are intended for is the outdoors. Squares have no place measuring nature. If any of my readers are old enough to have played the original Dragon Warrior game for the NES, they know what I mean. The game was great fun, but the squared-off overworld map looked silly even in those days of primitive technology. And while the righteous hexagon may not necessarily be a more 'natural' shape, it certainly approximates a natural shape more efficiently than its brutish cousin the square. Through the use of its two additional sides, the hexagon is more uniform in size than the square. The the distance between the center of a hex, and the center of any adjacent hex, is equal for all six sides. Whereas the square, with its 8 adjacent spaces, allows characters to travel much greater distances when moving diagonally than when moving up, down, left, or right. The only way to compensate for this extra distance is to penalize a character somehow for moving diagonally. And while this may be a simple matter on a small scale map (each space moved diagonally is counted as 1.5 spaces.), it becomes more difficult on a larger scale.

Which brings us to the next point regarding hexes: scale. Maps of dungeons or other areas which utilize squares are generally done on a small scale. The most common measurement is that 1 square is equal to 5 square feet. It's simple, and when a room is only thirty feet square, it's effective. However, wilderness travel require a larger scale by definition. No one in their right mind would try to map a forest, a mountain range, or a continent, in five-by-five foot increments. To even attempt it would be ludicrous. The standard size for a single hex on a wilderness map is six miles across from flat side to flat side. While a GM can use any scale he or she pleases, the six mile scale has a good balance. It's small enough that overland travel can be measured in a meaningful way (with most characters being able to travel between 12 and 18 miles in a day), but large enough to allow a good sized continent to fit on a piece of 8 1/2 by 11 graph paper.

The largeness of a six mile hex comes with other benefits as well. At over 30 square miles*, it's impossible for a party to fully explore every hex. They can mark down the primary terrain, and any items which they come across, but there will always be more. This means that even a hex which has already been explored can offer new challenges for players. From wandering monsters which they didn't encounter the last time, to dungeon entrances, or perhaps an entire community or fortress which was 2 or 3 miles away from the route the party took last time they passed through. The blog "I Waste the Buddha With My Crossbow" has a great post which gives you an idea of just how large this scale is.

For all the arguments I can make demonstrating the benefits of hex maps, there's one which I keep returning to time and again. An argument which, in my mind, is irrefutable proof that the D&D community needs to re-embrace hex mapping:

We don't have anything better yet!

It baffles me why Wizards of the Coast would abandon a perfectly good system without at least attempting to provide a replacement for it. But they did nothing of the sort! Wilderness travel was downplayed significantly in 3.x, and that hasn't been remedied in Pathfinder. On the rare occasion that wilderness maps are included in adventure modules, the best they can do is indicate scale with a measuring stick. Take a look at this map from one of my favorite D&D 3.5 modules, "The Standing Stone:"


What about this map is improved by the lack of a hex overlay? Nothing! Refusing to include an overlay of mighty hexagons forces the GM to add measuring tape to the already cluttered area behind the GM screen. And while it may be argued that the map is too small in scale for six-mile hexagons to be of use, I would reply that the map is perfectly scaled for three-mile hexagons. Wizards of the Coast had better options. Options which they chose to ignore for reasons I cannot even begin to guess at.

Hex maps provide us with the metric which makes world exploration possible. Without it, completely open-ended, sandbox exploration can seem like a daunting task to players and GMs alike. I know I certainly never had the guts to provide a world exploration game to my players before I learned about Hex mapping--despite being very proud of the maps I'd created! Nor have I ever been given much choice as a traveling player. Travel is always handled by indicating where I'm going, and then fading to black as I travel there. And you know what? That's sad.

As the old saying goes: "The journey is more important than the destination." Isn't that the essence of an adventure?

*Yes, I am aware of the irony of using square miles as a measurement in a post decrying the use of squares as a unit of measure. Stop mocking me!

On Character Generation V.S. Character Building

Yesterday I wrote regarding the general consensus I've observed in the OSR community regarding player agency and game master guidance. On that issue the OSR community is very much opposed to the emphasis on GM guidance they perceive to be more present in modern games than in older ones. And, while their criticisms have merit, I ultimately disagree.

Today's post is similar. It again relates to the OSR community, this time relating to character creation and progression. The consensus is that the forms of character generation used in older role playing games are superior to systems of character building present in more modern RPGs. I'll explore this in more depth below, but first I'd like to define these two terms as I understand them.

Character Generation is quick, simple, and requires a minimum of knowledge on the part of the character. Many character generation systems actively discourage GMs from allowing their players too much access to the rules, because knowing what the rules are will limit what the player thinks they can do. Often these systems are not much deeper than rolling dice for your basic statistics and picking a class. Generating a character is a great way to get into the game quickly, with a minimal amount of time spent on other things.

Character Building, by contrast, can be a very intensive process. Ability scores tend to be generated less randomly, with many of the most modern systems simply using a point-buy as the default. Players have a multitude (some might even say a deluge) of options available to them to customize and specialize their character's abilities. Character building systems offer greater depth to a player interested in customizing their character.

These are less dichotomous than simple labels would imply. There are gradations between the two, as well as alternatives to either system. Traveler's 'lifepath' system is both amazing, and unlike anything described above. However, in most games (particularly those closely related to Dungeons and Dragons) some variant of character generation or character building is used.

As a matter of personal preference, when I'm a player, I'm very attached to the character building model. That isn't to say I don't enjoy the speed, simplicity, and unpredictability of character generation. However, when Zalekios finishes a hard day's work being a horrible person, and the GM goes home, I'm still on a role-playing high. I want more. Unfortunately, as a player, there's not a lot more for me to do. The only thing I have control over is my character.

Which is why Zalekios often has written and diagrammed plans prepared for the next gaming session. It's why I designed my own character sheet layout for him, I've made character sheets for NPCs in his backstory and sent them along to my GM in case he ever wants to use them. It's why I'm level 12, but already have my character sheet ready-to-go for when I hit level 13. The fact of the matter is that I enjoy fiddling with my character.

Having said that, the OSR community is correct. Character building is harmful to RPGs.

When I think back over my career as a game master--a great deal more extensive than my career as a player--I have a hard time coming up with any of my players who enjoyed building their character. Many, if not most, have needed me to help them with updating their character sheet for every successive level. And that includes the group in which I purchased Player's Handbooks for the entire party. Most people are far more interested in playing the game than they are in deciding where to put their skill points. Or at least most people I've played with feel that way. Anecdotal evidence is not hard evidence, after all.

This doesn't mean that complex character building needs to go away. I enjoy it, and I know for a fact that many others enjoy it as well. But if we want our hobby to grow, then we need to make our favorite games more accessible. We need to engage people who are less interested in putting points into acrobatics, and more interested in leaping across a gaping chasm without caring why they landed safely. This is too big to house rule. It needs to be built-in to future systems.

I propose a theoretical system which offers players a choice between character generation and character building. Those players who want to spend their evenings pouring over rulebooks looking for the perfect combination of skills and talents should be able to do so. While players who don't want to, shouldn't have to. They should be able to roll their character ten minutes before the game and be ready to go.

This is a difficult, if not impossible task. In order for such a system to function, characters rolled using the shorter method will need to be just as effective overall as other members of the party built by dedicated players. Yet simultaneously, players who spend hours building their characters must not be made to feel as though their efforts have gone to waste. I think this would be best achieved by making a "general purpose" and "special focus" distinction. Whilst a generated fighter would be good at all the things fighters are good at, a built fighter might excel in fighting casters, or taking damage, or sundering weapons, while being less adept in other areas.

Considering the fact that games such as D&D and Pathfinder are unable to maintain class balance in the systems they've already got, my theoretical system seems like a pipe dream. I'm confident, though, that with sufficient ingenuity it can potentially be achieved. I fully intend to devote some of my attention to the problem. Until this magical system makes itself manifest, however, we've got to make due with what we've got.

I'm presently working within Pathfinder to try and devise a stopgap solution. I want to work out a method of character generation & leveling which functions quickly and simply. My current criteria for the system are:

-Characters created using this method must be reasonably well balanced with characters who are built within pathfinder. I'm never going to be able to make a formula for creating Pathfinder characters which will be able to rival min-maxed characters, so I won't try. All I want is for a party of casual players to be able to contain both built and generated characters without there being an obvious disparity in power.

-The method must be able to easily create a character of any level, not just first level. And it must maintain its ease of use throughout the leveling process.

-Any mechanisms used in this method of quick character generation should be easy to commit to memory. At the very most it could require a single page printout to run effectively.

I've made some minor progress. The difficult items like feats, spells, and class abilities such as rogue talents are still hurdles for me to make a jump check at. However, I did come up with a quick method of generating skills that I like.

Each class grants x + Int Modifier skill points each level. Select a number of class skills equal to x + Int Modifier. These are the character's skills. The modifier for any check is Level + 3 + Relevant Ability Modifier.

It's a start.

On Player Agency, and GM Guidance

In an effort to educate myself further on the variety and subtlety of the role playing hobbyscape, I've spent the last few weeks trolling for good blogs. Many of the ones I've gravitated towards affiliate themselves with the OSR sub genre of role playing. To sum OSR up in a single sentence, it's essentially a group of people who think RPGs reached their zenith with older games like first edition Dungeons and Dragons, or Hackmaster. And while I doubt you'll hear me espousing a return to treating elves and dwarfs as classes rather than races, I firmly believe that history is an excellent teacher, regardless of the subject.

One issue discussed frequently is the conflict between what is called Player Agency (D&D's version of ethical agency, for my fellow philosophy majors) and what I'll call GM Guidance. This issue is particularly well illustrated by a post over at Hack & Slash. Stated simply, a player has agency when he or she is able to control their own in-game destiny. Any circumventions of a player's choice, or arbitrary restriction placed on the choices available, reduces player agency.

The general consensus I've observed among the OSR community is that modern games fail at creating sufficient player agency. At best, this failure is the result of a failure to communicate the importance of player agency to gamers. At worst, it is argued, modern games actively discourage or prevent an acceptable degree of player agency. The examples given in the post linked above deal primarily with how fourth edition D&D discourages player agency. Any game, though, can suppress player agency if the GM fails to recognize how important it is to preserve.

On this matter, the OSR community has a point. Any game master of quality will warn new GMs of the temptations and dangers of railroading. And I've often told new players that the most remarkable thing about this hobby is that you can do anything with it. That freedom, that player agency is what makes these types of games so worth playing. To harm that freedom by telling a player who just wants to hunt for treasure "No, the king wants you to go on a diplomatic mission!" is bad game mastering.

Where I start to disagree with the OSR community is when they espouse unrestricted player agency. The idea that the GM should place no limits whatsoever on player freedom. It seems that many view the role of the GM to be one of world total world creation. NPCs may plead the players for help at a village to the north, and a sage may hint at a long forgotten dungeon to the east, but if the players want to go South West the GM damned well better be able to keep up. As fun as that sounds, I cannot accept it as the 'correct' way to play.

The work which goes into simply running a pre-written adventure for your players warrants some guidance from the GM. At a minimum, published adventures are thirty or forty pages long. That's an evening's worth of reading, plus any additional time the GM would need to create reference sheets, handouts, maps, or to integrate the module's locations into the campaign world. And as much time as that would take, it is easily the least work-intensive method to prepare a game. Designing a high quality adventure from scratch requires creativity, and hours of preparation detailing locations, challenges, and so forth.

I always hesitate to use my own experiences as an example in an argument, because that's simply anecdotal. However, in the years I've engaged in this hobby, both as a player and as a GM, I've never felt as though fun was lost due to the guidance of a game master. As a player, I make sure the GM knows what my player wants. If I want treasure, I'll try to find a treasure map, or even just tell the GM that I'd like to go looking for some treasure. As a GM, I ask my players after each game what they liked, what they didn't like, and if there's anything they want to do moving forward. Much to my delight, they're often too busy talking about how awesome it was when they ran away from the tribe of goblins to pay much mind to my probing.

That's what's really important: engaging your players. It doesn't matter if you nudge them along a vaguely linear progression, or simply drop them in a sandbox. So long as your players are engaged and having fun, you're doing it right. There is no excuse for half-assing your plot hooks and expecting your players to fall in line. Nor is there an excuse for dropping your players into a finely crafted campaign world and being frustrated when they want someone to give them some direction.

I don't want anybody to think I dislike sandbox style role playing, however. I actually prepared a campaign world for one once, several years back, which I was going to play with members of my World of Warcraft guild. That game fell apart, but the more I learn from the OSR community, the more I want to give it another try with the tools and knowledge I've gained in the years since that first attempt. Both styles of play are an excellent way to spend time with friends, or to make new friends.

Above all, Game Masters should remember: players will always defy your expectations. It's their job to break your game, and if you don't know how to handle it, you're doing it wrong.

lrn2GM

Pathfinder House Rule: Simple Experience Points

As a Game Master, I have always hated experience points. It is one of the most frustrating and poorly designed aspects of many role playing games. Including my beloved Pathfinder.

I understand function of EXP, and why it's valuable. Players enjoy being rewarded for their work, and (along with treasure) experience points are the most direct and tangible form of reward in an RPG. Watching the number of accrued XP grow larger and larger, bringing a character ever closer to the threshold of the next level, is not only encouraging, but it gives players a sense of control over their own progression

For the GM, though, it's nothing but a pain in the ass. Every encounter in the game needs to have an encounter level applied to it. Each encounter level is modified by the variables in combat. If the giant slime had a challenge rating of 6, and each of the two dozen skeletons had a challenge rating of 1/2, what was the encounter level of the combat? Should the characters gain more experience because the floor was covered in pit traps? Should they gain less because they have that powerful magic item which kept the giant slime pinned down for most of the combat? Should the total amount of experience gained change if the players find it unexpectedly more or less difficult than the GM expected they would?

I don't shy away from using a complicated system if I can be convinced it needs to be complicated. But experience gain never struck me as having that kind of need. Almost every game I've run as a GM has used a kind of ad hoc experience distribution system. I look up how many experience points are needed for the characters to reach the next level, and I give them whatever percentage of that number which I feel like they've earned. Most of the time I base that percentage on what speed of progression is optimal to keep the players in-step with events in my game world, rather than basing it off of challenges they have overcome.

At best, the method I've been using make experience points redundant. At worst, my method reduces player agency. It's an arrangement I've never been happy with, but not one I never thought of a good solution to. Maybe I was just being dense about it, though, because the solution seems damned obvious now.

Last week during my morning blog reading. I found this post over at Blog of Holding. According to Paul, Dungeons and Dragons 4th edition is normalized so that each level requires roughly 10 encounters to reach. So, instead of bothering to calculate large XP numbers, Paul simply gives his players 1 experience point for every encounter, and once they reach 10xp they get to level.

I immediately fell in love with the simplicity and elegance of the system. But, not wanting to rush into things headlong, I ran the numbers for Pathfinder's own leveling graph. My formula was simple:

[(Amount of XP required to reach next level) - (Amount of XP required to reach previous level] * (XP awarded to a character in a party of 1-3 when overcoming an encounter with a CR equal to the Average Party Level.)

This should produce the rough number of combats required to reach each level. While it is possible to raise or lower this number by having more members in the party, or dealing with encounters with a CR above or below the APL, this should provide a reliable average.

Since Pathfinder provides groups with slow, normal, or fast leveling progressions, I punched in the numbers sixty times, and lo and behold, the numbers are consistent.



Slow progression levels every 22 encounters, normal progression levels every 15 encounters, and fast progression levels every 10 encounters. I have to admit, as the results started to become apparent, I started to get angry. It seems ridiculous to me that leveling is actually based on such an exceptionally simple system, which is hidden behind needless layers of complexity. I can understand that large XP numbers are perhaps more fun to talk about, but couldn't they have let GMs in on this? Knowing would have saved me a lot of work.

Having now shown that leveling is simply a function of the number of encounters players have overcome, I will now be using a modified version of Paul's Simple XP House Rule in all of my future Pathfinder games:

At slow progression, each level requires 44 experience points.
At normal progression, each level requires 30 experience points.
At fast progression, each level requires 20 experience points.

Characters receive 1 experience point for: overcoming an easy battle; escaping from a difficult battle or boss battle; overcoming a non-combat challenge such as a trap, or diplomatic negotiation; other misc tasks the GM would like to offer rewards for.

Characters receive 2 experience points for: overcoming an appropriately leveled combat encounter.

Characters receive 3 experience points for: overcoming a very difficult encounter or boss battle, or completing a major task such as saving a kingdom.

The major difference between my system and Paul's is that while his system converts the number of encounters into the total amount of required XP, I doubled the number of encounters to get the amount of required XP. This allows for more more nuanced experience rewards. The baseline for most of the experience most characters will receive is 2, which means that the average number of encounters will remain unchanged. Characters who only fight monsters appropriate for their level will still reach a new level every 22, 15, or 10 fights.

However, with my variation on the system, a GM is better able to reward players for more minor actions. Something like successfully disabling a complicated trap, using stealth to avoid a ferocious band of orcs, or convincing a band of marauders that it's not in their best interests to raid the village which is under the PC's protection. I've never liked RPGs which punished players for skillfully avoiding combat. As a guy who likes to play rogues who rely heavily on stealth, I've experienced this in essentially every class based video game I've ever played. It's just poor design.

Let me know what you think. I haven't actually play tested this system yet, so I'm sure I'll have cause to update it eventually.

Pathfinder House Rule: Ability Penalty Flaws

Just as I knew I would, I forgot an entry into my current list of house rules. Truthfully, I probably missed even more, but this is the only one I came across whilst perusing a recently filled notebook. It comes from the superb Blog of Holding, which I love, and read every day despite their focus on a system I don't play. The outline of the system is detailed on a post from July 20th. You'll notice, however, that my version detailed below is significantly different. Brilliant as Paul's idea is, the flaws listed seem at best goofy, and at worst unbalanced.

In most systems, flaws are used as a kind of reverse-feat. The player agrees to allow his or her character to suffer from some frailty, and in exchange, they earn a benefit of some kind. On the surface it seems like an awesome idea, and I recall being very excited about it when I first read about them. As I've gained experience, however, I've come to the conclusion that it's impossible (or at least very difficult) to implement such a system without inadvertently creating unbalanced characters.

This begs the question: why should flaws come with buffs to characters at all? You and I have flaws, and those don't come with benefits. I'm overweight and dropped out of college due to financial problems. That doesn't mean I got to pick "hilariously funny," "devilishly charming," and "god damned brilliant" to make up for being fat, uneducated, and poor. I have those positive traits despite my failings.

Using the rule below, flaws have no upside. And, since only the most hardcore role player would take such a flaw, flaws are also mandatory under certain circumstances. Please note that none of these flaws are overly harmful to a character. These flaws merely enhance a per-existing lack of ability in small, flavorful ways.

Without further ado:

Pathfinder Flaws System

If a character has a score of 9 or lower for any of their 6 base ability scores, they must select a flaw from the list below related to that ability score. For each ability modifier lower than -1, the character must have an additional flaw related to that ability score. For example, a character with a Charisma modifier of -1 must take one Charisma flaw, a character with a Charisma modifier of -2 must take two Charisma flaws, et cetera.

If any of the ability scores with associated flaws are ever permanently increased, then flaws may be removed at the same rate as modifier penalties are removed. If the ability score modifier reaches 0, all flaws associated with that ability score are removed.

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Strength

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Puny: You are treated as though you are one size category smaller than your racial norm with regards to weapon proficiencies.

Weak Grip: Any time you miss with a melee attack your opponent may make attempt a disarm combat maneuver as a free action.

Bad Swimmer: You cannot succeed on any swim check with a DC higher than 10.

Bad Climber: You cannot succeed on any climb check with a DC higher than 10.

Insufficient Block: If you use a shield, you only gain half of its AC bonus. If your game utilizes the "Shields Will Be Sundered" rule, you may not take advantage of it.

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Dexterity

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Slow Starter: You cannot win an initiative roll. If your roll is ever highest, you move to second place in the initiative order.

Butterfingers: Upon rolling a natural one in combat, you drop your weapon.

Two Left Feet: When moving over difficult terrain, or trying to move over an obstacle, the character must make a Reflex save (DC: 13) or fall prone.

Pushover: Upon being struck by a critical hit, you fall prone.

Awkward Fall: Add +1 to the falling damage for every 10 feet you fall.

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Constitution

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Medicine Dependent: You require a daily dose of medication to avoid the fatigued condition. After two days you gain the exhausted condition.

Slow: You can run at a maximum of twice your normal move speed, rather than four times your normal move speed.

Cheap Drunk: Even a slight amount of alcohol, as much as half a cup of weak brew, leaves you impaired. You take a -4 to all Dexterity checks & Wisdom checks until you've rested for 8 hours.

Weak Frame: If you wear any armor in excess of 40lb, you are treated as encumbered.

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Intelligence

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Illiterate: You cannot read or write.

Ignorant: You cannot succeed on any Knowledge check with a DC higher than 10.

Inexpressive: You take a -2 on any check which requires you to express yourself to another. This includes Diplomacy checks, Bluff checks, Perform checks, or any abilities or spells which require a subject to understand the character.

Bad Eye for Value: You always pay 10% more than market value when buying items from merchants. You always sell for 10% less than market value.

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Wisdom

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Tempted: Select a temptation from the list below. Whenever presented with your temptation, you must make a will save (DC: 10 + Your Character Level) or indulge in that temptation. This flaw can be selected more than once, its effects do not stack. Each time it is taken, select a different temptation. List of temptations: Alcohol, Food, Sex, Drugs

Overly Honorable: You cannot make bluff checks.

City Slicker: You cannot succeed on any survival check with a DC higher than 10.

Day Dreamer: You cannot succeed on any reactive perception check with a DC higher than 10.

Spendthrift: For every day your character spends in a town or city, he or she loses 1d10/level gold on purchases of food, drink, and baubles.

Gullible: You cannot succeed on any sense motive check with a DC higher than 10.

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Charisma

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Rude: You're unable to bite your tongue. You cannot succeed on any diplomacy check with a DC higher than 10.

Meek: You're unable to assert yourself. You cannot succeed on any intimidate check with a DC higher than 10.

Magically Inept: Any successful Use Magic Device check has a 25% chance to misfire, causing the target to be determined randomly. If the target is self, the spell merely fizzles.

Bad With Animals: Animals which encounter you are unusually aggressive towards you. Those which would normally be friendly are unfriendly. Those which would normally be unfriendly may attack you.

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One of the best things about this house rule is that it is nearly endlessly extendable. The flaws are both simple, and entertaining to come up with. As much as I like it, however, it really isn't for everyone. Players will almost always be resistant to something which reduces their effectiveness. As always, the best policy is to work out what works best for your group, as a group.