Dicember Blogstew
Dyson Logos challenged me. Not personally, Dyson challenged us all, challenged us all to “produce something dicey / RPG / dice game-related each day of December and release it with the #DICEMBER or #DICEMBER2021 tag.” December is, unfortunately, a busy month for me in the real world, so I am altering the assignment slightly—Here is a big blogstew of all the days I’ve missed. I’m going to bounce from prompt to prompt quickly, not lingering on any idea for too long. Also, any ideas herein are not fully baked, not even half baked. Have you ever gotten an advent calendar but then totally forgot about it for a while, so on December 20th you wind up eating the last 19 types of cheese that you were set to eat slowly over the course of the month? This is like that but a blog post.
#1 - Ammo
One of the signifiers of a “True OSR” style game is tracking resources—tracking encumbrance, tracking strict time records, etc. And I think keeping track of what you are carrying and what time passes are a meaningful addition to my game, because they offer tradeoffs. Encumbrance makes the player choose: do I carry this or that? Tracking time (or using a device to simulate time, like the overloaded encounter die) makes the player choose: do I push by luck to spend more time doing this or that? But tracking ammo, that’s something I rarely do. For instance, if I am playing an archer, tracking arrows feels like bookkeeping. I think it’s because a discrete ammo tracking system (I have 100 arrows, I fire one, now I have 99 arrows) does not reflect meaningful states. I think it would be easier to have a more abstract ammo tracker (frequent readers are shocked, I’m sure). The meaningful states for ammo are (1) plenty of ammo, no need to worry, (2) limited ammo, you will need to choose your shots carefully, and (3) one bullet left, choose wisely. This half-baked, so you’ll need to think of a system that determines which state the player is in.
#2 - Ice
Not enough fights take place atop frozen lakes. There is a lot of drama to be had when the environment of a fight is as dynamic as the participants. The ice can start breaking apart. The chunks of ice can sway to and fro with the weight of the charging fighters, a creature can burst forth from beneath the ice. I always enjoyed the ice stages of Overcooked. Here is a good rule of thumb for designing interesting combat encounters: pick a stage from Overcooked and turn it into the environment for a fight.
#3 - Child
Children make good plot devices. Whether you have to protect the green alien child from a harsh universe or you have to deliver the child of god in some manger without any medical supervision, stories involving children are really popular. “Baby Yoda” is even a balloon in the Thanksgiving Day parade in NYC (and yet Baby Jesus is not? Really makes you think). The point is to add a child into your game and see how the players react. Remember the episode in Breaking Bad where Jesse goes to waste some couple that ripped him off but then finds their neglected toddler? That was a real turning point for how much I liked Jesse. Anyway, check out the adventure, What Child Is This?, by Nate Treme if you can’t think of a good way to incorporate a child into your game.
#4 - Rage
Speaking of Jesse Pinkman, he was always playing that early 2010s video game, Rage. I remember seeing ads for the game as a youth, and, despite some passing interest in the post-apocalyptic genre, it didn’t interest me. My impression was that it was just Mad Max but with a different IP. And frankly, on the level of worldbuilding and setting, I don’t care for Mad Max. I loved Mad Max Fury Road but not because of the setting. I love it because it just happens to be a phenomenal movie, and one that I rewatch with some frequency. But I think Rage erred in hewing so closely to one inspiration (at least visually; I admit I’ve not played it). If you are going to rip off a recognizable IP, why not combine it with something else and get something unique. The thesis, antithesis, synthesis theory of ripping stuff off. For example, The Simpsons: Road Rage (a 2001 video game), was recognizably a rip-off of Crazy Taxi (a 1999 video game) but combined it with a Simpsons aesthetic. Though a bit more than a paint job is often warranted. When the developer of Road Rage was sued by Crazy Taxi, they settled out of court. A better example is The Simpsons: Hit and Run (a 2003 video game), which imitated Grand Theft Auto but combined it with a Simpsons aesthetic. This game was met with praise instead of lawsuits due to a more gentle blending of the respective IPs.
#5 - Blade
Give your players a pair of roller blades. As a player, I love using the mundane equipment to solve problems in the dungeon. Finding a use for chalk, pitch, soap or a big bag of onions is such a joy. But we limit ourselves by only using the same old pseudo-medieval equipment lists (I’ve already broken this barrier before). Roller blades would be an excellent addition to any list of equipment because it has the rare quality I look for in an item: it is just as likely to solve a problem as it is to create one.
#6 - Shame
Fifth edition Dungeons & Dragons has some honor points mechanic thankfully buried deep in its unhelpful Dungeon Master’s Guide. If for some reason you must have a mechanic involving honor and/or shame, just have shameful acts take up one inventory slot. The act literally weighs on the player-character’s conscience. To remove the shame from their inventory, they must atone for what they have done. What does atonement look like? I don’t know, but I bet it’s contextual and you and your table could easily figure out what feels right at your table. Isn’t that a cop out? Yes, but this isn’t a fully baked thought. Just move on to the next one, it’s even worse.
#7 - Daemon
(ah-ah-ah)
Fighter of the Nightman (ah-ah-ah)
Champion of the Sun! (ah-ah-ah)
You're a Master of Karate
And Friendship
For Everyone
Daemon
#8 - Present
If I can take a moment to toot my own horn, I think a skill I have developed and continue to develop is that I am very present when I run games. It comes naturally to me. Any self-consciousness melts away and I am truly in the moment, reacting to what the players say and do. For in-person games, I also am fairly good at reading body language and adjusting as needed to the mood of the table. Being a present referee feels like a very theatrical skill, which is to say that it feels like the moment in theatre when the curtains open and any jitters or nerves are banished and you simply perform. As a referee, I simply perform. I am truly unflappable. I am less present as a player, much more distractible, more self-conscious. That’s something to work on.
#9 - Night
For overland travel, I think it is important to have two separate random encounter tables, one for day and one for night. Night is scary. In Minecraft, it’s when all manner of undead and other spooky baddies appear to eat your brains as a midnight snack. In Mausritter, it’s when an unsuspecting mouse may get swooped up by an owl. There should be an incentive to travel in the day, making travel by night a deliberate choice with benefits and burdens. It is easier to move undetected, but the other creatures moving at night are bigger, badder.
#10 - Skull
I’ve said this in passing before, but in the Prismatic Wasteland, spells don’t come from books. They come without ribbons! They come without tags! They don’t come from packages, boxes or bags! Spells don’t come from a store. In my game, perhaps, spells mean a little bit more. That is to say, the spell, once learnt, etches itself on the interior of the wizard’s skull. If you want to learn fireball from some wizard, perhaps they can teach you after years of training. But it is easier to just bash their head in and suck the arcane knowledge out like its crawfish.
#11 - Forest
Sometimes you miss the trees for the forest. How often have your players been traveling through a forest but you haven’t described what type of trees are all around them? It feels different to be surrounded by pine trees instead of palm trees. When you are stumped for what kind of tree to use, roll a d12 on the table below (note that this doesn’t include stranger forests: mushroom forests, concrete jungles or the meat forest, one of my favorite locations in the UVG).
Roll d12 for Tree Type
Birch
Poplar
Elm
Chestnut
Pine
Spruce
Willow
Palm
Maple
Cedar
Oak
Linden
#12 - Help
In Nick’s post on this subject over at the Papers & Pencils blog, cites to John’s post on this subject over at The Retired Adventurer blog. While both offer valuable advice (advice, rather than rules, seem most helpful for ruling in these types of situations), I have a minor quibble. Some blog beef. That is that I would distinguish between two situations: those in which there is a primary actor and others may help, but usually not hinder, their attempt, and those in which everyone pitches in and helps or hinders to various extents. For instance, John references “perception and sneaking” as examples. Perception falls into the former category, two sets of eyes are generally better than one, and there isn’t much chance of a second person hindering the other scout. Sneaking is more the latter. If five guys (no burgers, no fries) are doing some second-story work, it only takes one person to blow the operation. In such situations, I will sometimes ask everyone to make a roll to avoid detection. The group succeeds or fails together. But I don’t require everyone to succeed. Instead, I just look at the majority. If a majority passes, they sneak without a hitch. If everyone passes, maybe something especially good happens like they get the chance to take out a guard in complete silence. If the majority fails, they get caught. If everyone fails, they really get caught and the guards might have them surrounded.
#13 - Food
Are there any good surveys of how often TTRPGs are played, in person at least, with food involved? I’ve had few sessions where snacks weren’t present or we didn’t take a break to eat a meal. Games are a communal activity, which are, in my opinion and experience, greatly improved by the sharing of food and drinks. But here is a practical use of snacks at your table: If you have small, individually wrapped snacks, you can use them as miniatures representing enemies if you use a grid or similar method for combat. I used to use Starburst. When a player killed an enemy, they got that Starburst and could eat it. Sometimes the sweet taste of victory is sweeter when you can actually taste it.
#14 - Ooze
Sewers are my favorite types of dungeons. Caves and ancient ruins of course have their place, but anytime you as a referee can lure your players into a sewer, you know you have them on the ropes. As a result of having run quite a few sewer dungeons in my life, oozes strike me less as unpaid janitors to include in just any dungeon, and more as the default enemies lurking in the tunnels below any given fantasy metropole. There isn’t really a point to this except to say you should send your players beneath the streets to fight oozes.
#15 - Snow
As you revisit old holiday classics, keep your eyes peeled for potential game-able material. Ever heard of Frosty the Snowman? He’s a fairytale, they say, but the long and short of it is that he was a snowman brought to some sick facsimile of life by a magic top hat. Give your players a top hat that can bring inanimate objects to life (or only objects made of snow, your choice). I could see it going one of two ways: either the players will use it all the time, likely to get information from otherwise non-sentient objects (finally an answer to the old phrase “if these walls could talk”) or they will use it once and from then on some talking boulder in a top hat will be the unofficial mascot of the party, and they will willingly lay down their lives to protect Rocky McRockface, Rock “The Dwayne” Johnson or whatever they end up naming them.
#16 - Unholy
Holy water is ubiquitous on D&D shopping lists. It is weird for it to be carried at Ye Olde Corner Drug Store instead of only being available from high level priests, blessed springs or some other nonsense. I don’t much like putting a monetary price on holy water; the crass commercialism doesn’t pair well with divine blessings. But unholy water? Yeah, you can buy that. I love merchant encounters (As an example, but not my own, Nick of the aforementioned Papers & Pencils blog describes the time that his “players once visited a market, where they bought Giga Zucchinis from a guy with a crazy Russian accent who swore they would make your penis ‘better.’ (Not bigger. Better.)”) Merchant encounters are best when the merchant is a little strange. What can be stranger than goblins? So I often have goblins running roadside shops, like kids with lemonade stands. Rarely, if ever, do they sell anything of value. Sometimes they sell “Unholy Water.” As advertised, they claim it can do the opposite of anything that holy water can do. If holy water can make the blind man see, drinking this will cause you to go blind. If holy water kills demons, this kills angels. Et cetera, et cetera. What is not advertised, but is apparent upon inspection, is that what they have labeled “unholy water” is, in fact, simply goblin piss.
#17 - Nap
Yes, great idea. I will take a quick one and then knock out the last three entries. But for something game-able, here is a new spell, a weaker version of the infamous “Sleep” spell:
Nap (a cantrip)
Duration: 1d4 turns
Range: 60’
A nap cantrip causes creatures to magically zonk out, albeit briefly. The spell targets a total of 1d6 Hit Dice of creatures, affecting targets with the least HD first. Creatures affected by the nap spell will wake at even slight noises, smells, or changes in the brightness of the area. If you immediately place a blanket over the napping creature, the duration is doubled for such creature.
#18 - Balefire
I’ve recently gotten back into playing Minecraft after an intermediate hiatus. Because my partner and I are more inept than adept at exploration, we frequently get lost in journeying from our primary residence to our many remote outposts we have established (except the city approximately 1000 blocks away—we have a subway that we use to go there). Our solution to the frequency with which we lose ourselves is to set up high towers with torches at the top. It is just easier to navigate using our own landmarks than the natural ones we find (“is this weird looking mountain the right weird looking mountain, or is it a different one?”). What is the TTRPG applicability of this? Well, I haven’t written a big post on overland exploration and getting lost (it’s on the list), but one thing I like to factor in is landmarks. In Caves of Qud, when you are lost, you can get unlost by either finding someone to ask directions from or recognize a landmark and get your bearings. Something I would add to a more freeform system, like TTRPGs, is the ability for players to generate their own landmarks. And what better way than setting a big balefire (or bonfire; I’m not sure if there is a distinction in the modern usage) someplace you’ve been. They also have the added advantage of making it easier to travel at night (see #9 above).
Like this but with torches at the top.
#19 - Runic
I don’t think I’ve ever used runic magic in my games. Pseudo-Norse trappings never interested me, even less so with their squicky modern associations. However, I will give it my best shot at drawing something game-able from this prompt. So the proto-Germanic etymology of rune is rūnō, (meaning secret, mystery or a runic letter of the alphabet), which itself derives from the Proto-Indo-European *rewH (“to roar; grumble; murmur; mumble; whisper”). Here is a cognate to rune that you are probably very familiar with from old-school adventures: Rumor. So to my mind, runes should basically act like rumors, but they are rumors you learn from the dead in their crypts rather than from the living in their taverns. Crypts with ruins give off audible sounds of murmurs. Bringing an offering to the dead makes the murmurs intelligible. The spirits of the crypts will provide rumors of secrets they learned in life or the truth of how they died. Just like hearing rumors in bars, it is up to the players to make use of what they learn.
#20 - Huge
Another post that is in my pipeline is the system I use for generating monster stats. In that system, you determine features of the monsters, either by rolling or choosing what is appropriate for the monster within the fiction, and those features determine any numerical stats. One of the first steps is determining how big the creature is. If you choose to roll for it, there is a 10% chance for any given monster to be huge (as opposed to tiny, small, medium, large or gargantuan). After determining the size, you determine if the monster is typically encountered alone or in a group. The larger the creature, the less likely they are to be found in groups. A huge monster has a 25% chance of being in a group, if you roll instead of choosing. The group size of huge monsters that are found in groups are typically 1d6+2. Each huge monster in a group is roughly as powerful as a player-character of middling level. A solitary huge monster is typically a bit stronger than a single high level hero. Typing it out makes this sound somewhat complex, but it is amazing how much information can be jammed into a little table.
#21 - Push
Single story fights can be staid and stodgy. Evergreen advice to make for more appealing combats is to add a second story: a balcony, a set of stairs, a higher up cave entrance looking down at the main battle ground, a stage with the sloping floor for the audience, et cetera. The go-to example of a fun use of the environment during fights always seems to be swinging from the chandelier, but nothing is more exciting than a push. Fighting on the side of a cliff, on a floating block of ice in freezing water (see #2 above), or on the bank abutting a river of lava, are all particularly dramatic because pushing a combatant off the edge has greater stakes than slashing at them with a cutlass. A lot of games try to systematize the pushing move to make it an equally viable option with a regular attack most of the time, but this is a wrongheaded approach, in my humble opinion. Pushing should not be as effective as swinging a battle axe, in most instances. It is the exception that makes pushing your enemies really fun. Pushing an enemy usually just causes them to use their movement next turn to stand up, but if you can position yourself and your enemy just right and use terrain to your advantage, it can be a memorable way to end a combat. Bonus points if you push them, then catch them by their hands, only to drop them after saying something dramatic.
Alright, that’s 21 mini-blogposts down! Ten more to go, so tune-in next time for the action-packed conclusion of Dicember: Prismatic Edition.
