It’s About Time @williamshatner #StarTrek

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Tomorrow morning, October 13, 2021, at 9:30 ET, William Shatner will be returning to work with his former employer. I wish him well.

I’m not as concerned for the safety of the other crew members. Nor apparently is anyone else.

You can watch it here: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCVxTHEKKLxNjGcvVaZindlg.

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Follow William Shatner @williamshatner

An Unappreciated Consequence of Quarantines #MythologyMonday #MythologyMonandæg

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Everyone has their complaints as to how quarantines have inconvenienced them. Trust me; it could be worse.

Quit whining, babies.

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Venn Faire #RennFaire #DnD #RPG

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Sundays now are lazy days for me. I either post something silly or other people’s work. Usually both. Today, it relates to something I haven’t done in years but will do really soon, mixed with two things I’ve never done, combining to something I haven’t done in years.

Yes, that’s as stupid as it sounds.

I really wish these things had signatures on them.

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Dungeons & Dragons is a trademark of Wizards of the Coast, LLC, who neither contributed to nor endorsed the contents of this post. (Okay, jackasses?)


A Very Stupid Lawsuit @OzzyOsbourne #music #Caturday

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I was searching the internet for something for Caturday and found this.

Science Caturday on Tumblr – The Finch and Pea

I immediately thought, “Well, sure. Every Ozzy Osbourne fan knows that.” That in turn led me down the mental rabbit hole of one of the dumbest consequences of the Satanic Panic. I’ve mentioned the Satanic Panic several times, including a brief post hinting at my experiences with it in the context of gaming. This is a different angle, and one that’s more mainstream.

Ozzy Osbourne wrote a song called Suicide Solution. Here are the opening lyrics.

Wine is fine by whiskey’s quicker.
Suicide is slow with liquor.
Take a bottle and drown your sorrows.
Then it floods away tomorrows

So, what do those lyrics mean to you? What is this song about? If you answered, “Putting a gun to your head and shooting yourself,” then you’re an idiot. I get that not all of you are chemists. I understand that “solution” meaning “a liquid mixture in which the minor component (the solute) is uniformly distributed within the major component (the solvent)” isn’t the first thing you think of when you hear that word, but when analyzing the lyrics to this particular song, it’s clear that’s what Osbourne meant. Moreover, any fan of Osbourne would have known that even if you didn’t.

His parents insisted that young, impressionable adults were particularly susceptible to being influenced by Osbourne’s music . . . .

Yeah, so they understand the meaning of the words, which warned of the effects of alcohol and drug abuse.

To say that this song caused someone to kill themselves not only flies in the face of logic (supported by the fact that this lawsuit was dismissed), but it also diminishes the importance of factors that actually cause suicide. If you can’t identify the cause of a problem, it’s probably going to be difficult to solve it, and yes, sometimes that means admitting that you, the parent, have far more control over your child’s mental health than a public figure and stranger who has deeper pockets.

Censorship is stupid, and this case is yet another piece of evidence as to why that’s so. Not only was it an attempt to run from responsibility by scapegoating Ozzy, but if it had succeeded, it would have silenced a positive message about avoiding alcohol abuse based solely on ignorance and prejudgment. Let’s not relive the past in this regard.

But hey, it’s Caturday, so . . .

See the source image
. . . kittens!

Censorship is bad in whatever form it takes.

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Follow Ozzy Osbourne @OzzyOsbourne

The Push and Pull of Character Death #ADnD #DnD #RPG

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Character death is yet another example of where there seems to be a great divide between modern and “old school” players, and as with all other issues, my answer tends to fall somewhere in the middle. According to the latest social media dust ups, 1e AD&D players generally see character death as a necessary ingredient to making the game fun. Without the risk of failure, not only is there no thrill of victory, but also there’s no “game” all. Moreover, the more at risk, the greater the reward. I largely agree with that, so the structure of this post is to operate from that assumption and then pull back on it a bit.

Modern Crybabies

In my experience, modern players react emotionally to losses. I like the attachment they have to their characters, but more often than I’d like to see, that reaction is embarrassingly extreme. I’ve had plenty of players complain if they didn’t find every single magic item in the adventure, solve every single puzzle, or even when they get hit by a trap for zero damage. This appears to be taking failure far too seriously and “out of character.” In contrast, I see such failures as a fun learning experience. Nevertheless, I do acknowledge the modern player’s yang to the old school player’s yin, though I gather it’s not for the same reasons.

Too Much of Anything Can Be Too Much

I was in a 4e Dark Sun campaign run by Matt James. Among other writing credits to his name, he’s the author of Soldiers of Fortune. There was a stretch in which I lost 5 characters over the course of 9 weeks (i.e., my character died in week 1, then the next in week 3, then week 5, 7, and 9). All but one of those deaths was grandly heroic. NPC bards would sing stories about their sacrifices for centuries to come. But there are two reasons that much death sucks. First, I wrote up backstories at least one page in length for each of those characters. I’m particularly proud of my shardmind’s backstory. Having to do that every other week was a bit of work and eventually would have left me with little room to do something radically different from all I had written before, yet still fun for me. Second, for a character to really matter to a player (or at least to this player), the player must be invested in it, but a player shouldn’t get invested in a character with a shelf life of two, four-hour sessions. Doing so will make the game far too frustrating.

Multiple Characters

In my 1e days (1977-1982), due to limited interest and accessibility to a player pool (there was no internet back then), there were never more than five players around the table, and even five was rare. Moreover, adventures were designed for as many as 10 characters at a time. That meant we pulled double duty in the party.

Playing multiple characters militated against getting too attached, and while that has the downside, it also had the upside of giving me a wider variety of options on my turns.

I want to know that, in a fair fight, my character has a reasonable chance of survival, but at the same time I want to know that poor decisions on my part, or even just a string of bad luck, can make adventuring as risky as you’d expect it to be if it were real. That’s my often-cited “immersion in the game world/story” that I love to have in my games as either a player or DM. However, it’s ultimately a game and should be playable. Moreover, an investment in your character is another, equally legitimate path to immersion that old school players don’t seem to acknowledge.

Clearly, both sides have a merit, and I prefer them to be balanced rather have one than chosen to the exclusion of the other. YMMV.

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Dungeons & Dragons is a trademark of Wizards of the Coast, LLC, who neither contributed to nor endorsed the contents of this post. (Okay, jackasses?)

Caster Level for Paladins and Rangers in 1st Edition D&D #RPG #DnD #ADnD

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I posted a question a couple weeks ago to the 1st Edition AD&D (“1e”) social media groups: When a 8th level paladin or 9th level ranger gain the ability to cast spells, what is their caster level? Despite literally decades of debates over the issue evidencing that the answer isn’t printed in any of the sourcebooks, I received several claims that the answer was clear, but there isn’t a clear answer in the rules. None. If you can find it, please enlighten everyone who’s come before you with a sourcebook and page number linking to a clear statement on the matter. There are, however, just a couple of reasons that I fall on the “caster level is the character level” side of the discussion.

Silence Is Telling

Silence GIFs - Get the best GIF on GIPHY

The fact that there’s no statement expressly saying that a 10th-level paladin doesn’t cast at 10th level places us in the default position of “caster level is the character level,” as is the case in every other context (i.e., clerics, druids, illusionists, and magic users). The wording of spells always tells you that variable effects are based on the “level of the caster,” refusing to distinguish between caster level and character level. Consider, then, the third level illusionist spell, Dispel Illusion (using my own words).

The caster can dispel any illusion, with or without an audible component, cast by a non-illusionist, and can dispel an illusion by an illusionist with a 50% base chance adjusted 2% downward for each caster level beneath the illusion’s caster, or 5% upward for each caster level above the illusion’s caster.

Player’s Handbook, p. 96

Per Unearthed Arcana, the magic user doesn’t get the spell until 4th level, and even then:

A magic-user attempting to dispel an illusion is considered at two levels below his actual level with respect to illusion/phantasm spells cast by an illusionist.

p. 56

It’s one of only a couple of spells that expressly breaks the “caster level is character level” rule, and it tells us two things. First, despite the illusionist needing to be better at illusions than the magic user, it isn’t when dispelling illusions not cast by an illusionist. Even though the magic user doesn’t get the spell as early, it immediately is as powerful of a caster. However, second, the game wanted there to be a distinction when the spell was casted by an illusionist, so it expressly stated one. It never did so for paladins or rangers. Any other interpretation is reading more into the text of the game than is there. While I don’t believe anyone who tells me that Gary Gygax himself once told them something, it makes me believe that’s possible.

It certainly helps that Sage Advice once agreed after supposedly “speaking with the higher ups.”

Much Ado About Nothing

Most importantly, however, is that it doesn’t matter. One could rule that the caster level is the character level, or a fraction of the caster level, without changing the game significantly. This report provides a list of all the spells a paladin will ever be able to cast from the Player’s Handbook and Unearthed Arcana. In it, you’ll see that there isn’t a single spell where the caster level determines damage or healing. Mostly, the differences are in duration, with a few differences in range and area of effect. Rangers tell the same story as evidenced by this report providing a list of all the spells a ranger will ever be able to cast from the Player’s Handbook and Unearthed Arcana.

Is it at all overpowered to allow a paladin to create an extra 8 cubic feet of food and water or a ranger to predict the weather for and extra 14 hours? If not, then the primary two reasons for ruling otherwise – 1) paladins and rangers should be fighters first and casters second, and 2) it would make them overpowered – are quickly undermined. A notable exception is Magic Missile, but consider how useful useless a 1st-level Magic Missile spell would be against 9th-level threats? At 9th-level, that’s an extra 4d4+4 damage (average 10 hps) against 1-2 Storm Giants with, on average, 72 hps each. A ranger is generally far better off attacking with a bow. The benefit of paladin and ranger spellcasting is increased versatility for those classes, so the real limiting factor is that a ranger could never cast even Fireball or Fly, let alone Power Word Kill or Time Stop.

This may seem like I’m trying to make a strong argument for why I’m right and you’re wrong, but there is no right and wrong here. The rules are ambiguous, and the consequences to the game are insignificant. There’s nothing wrong with ruling either way, and I’d be happy to play at a table with a different rule. I’m just explaining my rationale for my choice in order to spur more conversation and am pointing out that any claim of a clearly correct answer is objectively wrong. There’s no absolutely correct way play D&D.

Only a Sith deals in absolutes. Are you a Sith? Are you?

EDIT: @nrfoley on Twitter provided the following official ruling from Polyhedron 7 (July, 1982), though it doesn’t change my personal decision. As always, YMMV.

Image

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Resets Within the System #RPG #DnD #ADnD

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As I’m continuing my data entry of 1e monsters into my database, I relearned a rule I don’t ever recall from my 1e days: Magic resistance isn’t a constant. A monster’s magic resistance is calculated based on an 11th-level caster, adding/subtracting 5% for each caster level below/above 11th. For example, if a monster’s magic resistance is 50%, then a 10th-level caster has only a 45% chance of piercing it, whereas a 12th-level caster has a 55% chance of piercing it. Once again, this sent me down a rabbit hole, though a shallow one.

First, some obvious context. There are a lot of conditions or effects you can place on an enemy creature. These effects become available at various character levels throughout the game, getting progressively more problematic (interesting) as one progresses in level. If you give a low-level character too powerful of an arsenal, it makes the game boring because 1) it’s too easy at lower levels, or 2) if the monsters also get that same arsenal, you run out of effects to earn, and the game becomes the same for far too long during the adventuring life of your characters. Put another way, your 20-level system could have a sweet spot from levels 1-5, with levels 6-20 being identical. I’m sure this is obvious to everyone. Basic stuff.

Here’s where all of this took me. Going beyond 1e, other editions made it a lot easier, for example, to make saves. Save bonuses continued to go up, but certain abilities screwed with that system. For example, in 4e characters might eventually gain the ability to save at the start of their turn rather than the end. One response that undid the value of that ability was that some high-level characters couldn’t be hit by low-level characters no matter the attacker’s to hit modifier, weapon, or d20 roll. That was simply a feature of the NPC.

Magic resistance is a simple, open, uniform, and thus elegant way to implement this. It was a way of resetting the system when characters got to be a certain level. Monster’s still got saves, but a lot of high level spells didn’t grant saves. No worries. The monsters remained a challenge because they didn’t need a save. Magic resistance gave them a secondary sort of save. Another example that wasn’t developed this way, but should have been, was the hellfire created by 3.5e’s Mestopholes. It was fire that penetrated fire resistance, and it was said to worry Asmodeus greatly (see Fiendish Codex II: Tyrants of the Nine Hells). Something like that could have, again, more elegantly been used to reset the bloated system of resistances while still keeping things interesting. Granted, this would require a subtle touch, but 1e magic resistance didn’t piss off the masses, did it? The tiers of 4e (i.e., heroic, paragon, and epic corresponding to 10-level ranges) were perfect for such periodic adjustments. Unfortunately, the desire of game designers to hide their mechanics prevents such elegant mechanics, resulting in unnecessary bloat and math at the table.

Game designers should focus on their characters, campaign settings, and adventures. Mechanics should be streamlined.

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Dungeons & Dragons is a trademark of Wizards of the Coast, LLC, who neither contributed to nor endorsed the contents of this post. (Okay, jackasses?)

Balancing the Negatives #RPG #DnD #ADnD

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That’s a weird title, I know, but it relates to something that’s bugged me about what appears to be a universal approach to game design. It manifests in two general ways.

“Damage Type” Magic Items

What could be cooler than a flaming sword, right? It’s a sword made of metal but is on fire. That’s great. It’s also an appropriate item for a weapon-using character advancing to an appropriate level. Except that it isn’t. It’s actually a curse. If you have a +1 longsword that does 1d8+1 damage, and I have a +1 flaming weapon that does 1d8+1 fire damage, in most cases, we have the same chance of doing the same damage. However, when we face a fire giant, you’re still doing 1d8+1 damage, and I’m doing 0 damage unless I pull out my non-magical dagger. All my fire damage is negated by the fire giant’s resistance. But hey, that’s okay. When we face a frost giant, you’ll still be doing 1d8+1 damage, but I’ll be doing double damage (2d8+2) damage, right? Right? Well, no. Against the frost giant, we’ll both be doing 1d8+1 damage because frost giants inexplicably aren’t vulnerable to fire damage. From a logical perspective (i.e., flavor), it makes sense that they would be, and from a gaming perspective (i.e., having fun), it would be an appropriate trade off considering that fire giants nerf me. However, I rarely see vulnerabilities in monsters when in fact every single resistance a monster has should always be countered by a meaningful vulnerability. That would appeal to both logic (flavor) and game theory (fun).

The pretentious among us (no judgments; that’s me too) may respond that it doesn’t necessarily make you weaker; it just holds you in place. But that’s the same thing for all intents and purposes. In 4e, a +x magic weapon would do an extra xd6 damage, but for a fire weapon, that extra damage would be fire damage. So, the fire weapon wouldn’t make you weaker than you already are, but it would make you weaker than what you should be. At a given level, if you’re expected to have a +2 weapon, then eliminating your extra 2d6 of damage against fire giants is effectively the same thing as weakening you when facing those monsters. You’re weaker than your contemporaries, which means you’re far better off selling the flaming sword than keeping it. In any event, it’s no reward to find one.

I know that curses can be fun, at least for old-school D&D players, but the flaming sword isn’t meant to be a curse, so it shouldn’t be. Yet it is. Consistently. Why? Even in 4e where vulnerabilities were more common than any other game I played, they were still relatively rare, and when they existed, they didn’t balance. That is, a fire giant with resistance to fire of 10 was (of course) vulnerable to cold, but his vulnerability was only 5. Maybe the game was balanced around this discrepancy (not as far as I can tell), but even if so, all this accomplishes is to make the game more frustrating. If you adjust the math so that they could both be 10, people would feel like their found items were actual rewards for a job well done. As I’ve previously discussed, mathematical advantages and disadvantages are illusory. The real money is in doing cool things and telling a good story (the latter not being relevant here). Making yourself useless against fire giants is uncool. Making yourself insignificantly more useful against frost giants is almost as uncool (though it might mathematically come close to balance considering that you can still do a small amount of damage against the fire giant with your non-magical dagger). The boring magic items became better than a lot of the ones that would otherwise be cool.

I should know. I’m the arbiter of what’s cool.

Why do seemingly all game designers do this? It’s maddening.

The 4th Edition Invoker

Here’s another way this manifests itself, though it’s probably far less common. For those of you that never played 4e, the Invoker was a flavorful class. It was the divine equivalent of the sorcerer (c.f., Divine Soul from 3.5). That is, Invokers channeled divine energy not through research or training but through instinct. As a result, they lacked control over those energies, often resulting in self-harming feedback. This meant that, in addition to damaging the enemy, the Invoker’s attacks (usually) dazed the Invoker. Here’s a hypothetical example that demonstrates the problem. Let’s say the Rogue (a.k.a., Thief) has a 3rd-level power (that’s an “attack” in 4e) that does XdY+Z damage and on a hit immobilizes the opponent. The Invoker would also have a 3rd-level power that does XdY+Z damage and on a hit immobilizes the opponent, but then dazes the Invoker. That makes the 3rd-level Invoker weaker than the Rogue. Not just different (which is cool), but weaker (which is not). The class was always behind the curve, but there’s an easy fix for this. Change the Invoker’s power such that it also dazes the enemy in addition to the immobilization. That’s not a perfect solution – PCs are far more sensitive to conditions than NPCs – but it comes close enough for government work. It makes the flavorful self-harm worth it, and thus the class is viable. My experience is anecdotal, but I knew only one person other than myself that played an Invoker. I wouldn’t be surprised if it were among the least popular classes in 4e, and that’s probably a large part as to why.

EDIT: After discussing this on Facebook with a friend, I want to add that the 5e sorcerer’s Wild Magic in 5e technically has a chance of creating negative feedback, but the chances of that are quite rare, and the bonuses it gives in the vast majority of cases (4d10 lightning damage to up to 3 creatures within 30′!!!) is amazingly beneficial. Clearly, Wild Magic is meant to be a boon, not a bust, and it absolutely is one. No balancing feature is needed, but technically Wild Magic by itself is a balancing act, and it certainly is an exception to the problem I’m addressing. Hence, I’m not surprised that the class remains relatively popular.

I think both of these things come from the same place. Again, I ask, why do game designers seem to take this approach? It seems obvious to me that this is a flaw in game design, but I’ve never seen a game even try to get it right, let alone succeed.

Any ideas as to what they’re (you’re) thinking?

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Dungeons & Dragons is a trademark of Wizards of the Coast, LLC, who neither contributed to nor endorsed the contents of this post. (Okay, jackasses?)

Finding a Better Mix #MythologyMonday #MythologyMonandæg

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I’m loading all mechanical data for 1st Edition AD&D (“1e”) into a database. Having finished data entry for all the spells appearing in the Player’s Handbook and Unearthed Arcana, I spent this weekend creating the tables, queries, and forms for 1e monsters. I’ve entered all the data for everything up to and including the Chimera. This is going to be similarly tedious but 100% worth it when all is said and done.

I’ve gotten through the As, Bs, and Cs, and as of this writing Sunday night, I’ve entered Demogorgon as well (that was a real pain in the ass, with Juiblex — note the spelling — and other demon lords to come). Most of the monsters I’ve entered so far (29 out of 49, or 59.2%) are disappointingly ordinary, representing real world creatures or simply giant or prehistoric versions of them. Grabbing the 3.5 Monster Manual, I see there are 44 creatures (including variations) that begin with the letter A, B, or C. Of those, the closest ones to ordinary are animated objects, arrowhawks, and assassin vines (10 total, or 22.7%). Everything else is made up nonsense, which is the way it should be. Lions, tigers, and bears have their place, but we all come to D&D to fight lycanthropes, trolls, and balors. Of course, you can do that, so this isn’t a major criticism of 1e. There’s plenty of good stuff in there. I just found it surprising how boring the book started. Whether that holds up remains to be seen.

Aside: Kobolds

The bugbear entry mentioned kobolds, and that got me thinking about another design decision my friend and I discussed when creating our own game. I’ll spare you the details of that conversation but instead simply point out that kobolds of legend aren’t anthropomorphic reptiles. I went through YouTube and found a video explaining their true, historical origin. Game designers have plenty of kobold-like fey that fill the space of a kobold, but Lord Gygax apparently didn’t want to throw away the legendary term, so he coopted it for another creature. There’s nothing wrong with that, of course, but considering that the term, kobold, generally means something different now, it suggests that going back to an older definition is an occasionally useful (if not lazy) means to be original from the perspective of a modern audience.

Okay, I didn’t spare you the details of that conversation.

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A Couple of D&D Memes #ADnD #DnD #RPG

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Sundays now are lazy days for me. I either post something silly or other people’s work. Usually both. Today, once again my current old-school kick has 1e taking over.

In 1e, this is 100% true. I don’t think a magic user sees healing capability until Limited Wish.

I had to replace the original photos with these wonderful, stock photos to avoid copyright concerns. That’s sad, but there is some good news. No Aussies were harmed in the editing of this meme. This does remind me, though, of something I once read (lost to the passage of time) that Lord Gygax always said that the Olman of Greyhawk weren’t just culturally similar to the Aztecs. They were the Aztecs. There was a portal in their lands that connected Oerth to Earth, so they sometimes passed between the two worlds. I’ve heard a lot of things attributed to Lord Gygax over the years. I know better than to assume they’re accurate.

Like I said; Sundays are lazy.

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Dungeons & Dragons is a trademark of Wizards of the Coast, LLC, who neither contributed to nor endorsed the contents of this post. (Okay, jackasses?)