Hey all,
I thought today I'd talk a little about a common pitfall in tabletop gaming, and what you can do to avoid it. At it's root, the issue stems from the fact that tabletop gaming is not only storytelling, it's a storytelling medium. There are some stories that simply work better in some media than in others. Bioshock works as a video game in a way it probably wouldn't work to tell that same story as a movie or miniseries. Ender's Game, in my opinion, worked better as a book than as a movie. A twenty minute episode of The Twilight Zone might become two lines of text if someone tried to novelize the series.
In the same way, there are tropes that work in some media, and not in others. A very common trope in most fiction, which doesn't tend to work well in role playing games, is the lone wolf archetype. The classic hero's journey in most media includes a refusal of the call. In contrast, experienced players at a tabletop game know that the pirate code applies: if you stay behind, you're left behind.
It's important to remember that role playing games are, among other things, improvisation games. Improvisation, famously, means saying "yes, and . . ." You agree with the world built, and you add to it. This can conflict with the player desiring a hero's journey experience. Most hero's journey heroes have the luxury of being pulled into the plot unwillingly by the machinations of fate. Sadly, in your tabletop game, "Fate" (the game master) has four other main characters to play with if you take your ball and go home.
That said, the hero's journey can be had by your character, it just needs a little more legwork than in other stories. Let's look at a few ways of getting the ball rolling on your character.
In Medias Res
Literally, "into the middle things", in medias res refers to beginning a story with the action begun. It means putting the inconvenient parts of your hero's journey into the backstory and saving the exciting character growth moments of your character's life for the game. For example, if you wanted to be Luke Skywalker, you don't start the game arguing with your uncle about chores, you write up a backstory and show up to session one ready for Mos Eisley, with a backstory and a justification for your involvement in the world.
Need Money
This is probably your simplest bet to get into the action with very little extra motivation. If there's a reward on the table, you don't care who's in danger, or what's at stake, you've got mouths to feed, or an heirloom to buy out of hock, or even just a family farm to sustain through a bad season.
Desire for Adventure
This is a little cliche, but at the same time, it can be magnificent if done well. Your character may be a seasoned adventurer along for curiosity, or even a cloistered youth with romanticized notions of what they'll experience in the wide world beyond their family estate.
Indebted/Sense of Duty
Typically associated with more stoic and serious characters, the sense of duty, debt, or obligation can motivate a character very well to set out on a quest. Whether this is to a lofty notion, to a king in need of champions, or to a single friend beset with troubles; your character can find in their beliefs and loyalties a reason to risk their life.
With any of these, you'll want to sit down with your game master and get a feel for the world. A game master might even drop a few hints as to the nature of the campaign's inciting incident to help you hash out your character's loyalties, needs, surroundings, etc. and how those elements of who your character is help to define them as someone willing, under present circumstances, to throw their lot in with a group of violent strangers set to take on a fool's errand.
So, what are your thoughts on getting into the story? If you have any additional ideas, or even stories about your own experiences at a gaming table, let's get a discussion going below. Happy gaming, all.
Monday, January 8, 2018
Monday, January 1, 2018
500: the outdoor game for gamer kids
Hey all,
I was at a church cookout a while ago, and saw some of my friends' kids playing a game that was just slightly familiar. I walked over because I was sure I recognized what they were playing, but I just couldn't put my finger on it. Then, it hit me. They were playing a game called 500.
I was shocked that I'd forgotten 500. Sure, it had been years since I'd played, but that game was an old favorite from my childhood, right up there with Egyptian Rat Screw, Liar, and British Bulldog. As I watched, I realized that this game was a much more potent educational tool than I'd ever realized at the time.
For those who aren't familiar with the game, to play 500, one player is made "it". They usually have a football, but any kind of ball or even a frisbee will do the trick. The rest of the players cluster together and wait for the football to be thrown to them. The person who is "it", calls out a number, and whichever player catches the ball gains that many points. The goal is to be the first player to reach 500 points.
So far, the game is pretty simple, but it's the little touches of added complexity that really make this game shine. If a player goes over 500 points, they bust and go back to zero. Additionally, there are a few extra things that the person who is "it" can call out. If they call a number, followed by the phrase "dead or alive", it means that the ball is worth points to the player who either catches it, or is the first to pick it up off the ground. The "it" can also call out "mystery box" which means the players catching the ball don't know until they catch it what it's worth, and it might even be an automatic bust!
These additional rules create a fast and intuitive incentive system. A player might not want to catch the ball to avoid busting, but they might still want to swat it down to prevent other players gaining points. The person who is "it" has to learn to balance good and bad results in the mystery boxes so that players still try for them, and players learn quickly that trying to hide bad results in every mystery box makes the mystery box undesirable to the players.
Besides all of this, the free-form style of play means that players can sometimes intuitively create new rules and test out how they work in play. While it's not in the official rules, it's fairly common for players to quickly create different values for dead and alive. A player might call out "50 dead, 150 alive", and the other players can usually pick up on what's meant quickly and easily. Players also usually invent some variation of "grenade" rules, where the first player to touch the ball gets the points. This is usually to handicap taller players who are swatting down balls they don't want to catch as a way of controlling the field.
Through this type of play, young children can be introduced to elements of game design and incentive systems design that could open up whole worlds of inquiry and interest later in life. For this reason, 500 is truly an asset to any child lucky enough to get the chance to play.
What are some of your favorite games from your childhood? Are there games that taught you more than you realized at the time? Hop down to the comments if you'd like to share.
Happy Gaming, all.
I was at a church cookout a while ago, and saw some of my friends' kids playing a game that was just slightly familiar. I walked over because I was sure I recognized what they were playing, but I just couldn't put my finger on it. Then, it hit me. They were playing a game called 500.
I was shocked that I'd forgotten 500. Sure, it had been years since I'd played, but that game was an old favorite from my childhood, right up there with Egyptian Rat Screw, Liar, and British Bulldog. As I watched, I realized that this game was a much more potent educational tool than I'd ever realized at the time.
For those who aren't familiar with the game, to play 500, one player is made "it". They usually have a football, but any kind of ball or even a frisbee will do the trick. The rest of the players cluster together and wait for the football to be thrown to them. The person who is "it", calls out a number, and whichever player catches the ball gains that many points. The goal is to be the first player to reach 500 points.
So far, the game is pretty simple, but it's the little touches of added complexity that really make this game shine. If a player goes over 500 points, they bust and go back to zero. Additionally, there are a few extra things that the person who is "it" can call out. If they call a number, followed by the phrase "dead or alive", it means that the ball is worth points to the player who either catches it, or is the first to pick it up off the ground. The "it" can also call out "mystery box" which means the players catching the ball don't know until they catch it what it's worth, and it might even be an automatic bust!
These additional rules create a fast and intuitive incentive system. A player might not want to catch the ball to avoid busting, but they might still want to swat it down to prevent other players gaining points. The person who is "it" has to learn to balance good and bad results in the mystery boxes so that players still try for them, and players learn quickly that trying to hide bad results in every mystery box makes the mystery box undesirable to the players.
Besides all of this, the free-form style of play means that players can sometimes intuitively create new rules and test out how they work in play. While it's not in the official rules, it's fairly common for players to quickly create different values for dead and alive. A player might call out "50 dead, 150 alive", and the other players can usually pick up on what's meant quickly and easily. Players also usually invent some variation of "grenade" rules, where the first player to touch the ball gets the points. This is usually to handicap taller players who are swatting down balls they don't want to catch as a way of controlling the field.
Through this type of play, young children can be introduced to elements of game design and incentive systems design that could open up whole worlds of inquiry and interest later in life. For this reason, 500 is truly an asset to any child lucky enough to get the chance to play.
What are some of your favorite games from your childhood? Are there games that taught you more than you realized at the time? Hop down to the comments if you'd like to share.
Happy Gaming, all.
Monday, December 18, 2017
The Primary Colors: The Mage
Hey all,
Let's finish out our look at the primary colors of character class with the mage.
The mage is archetypically the glass cannon. The fighter charges in, the rogue strikes from the shadows, and the mage calls down fire and arcane energies. Outside of fighting, the mage also fits the archetypes of the scholar. Think of Gandalf's encyclopedic knowledge of middle earth, Kvothe's scholastic background, or even the Elric brothers' quest for knowledge. Even a character like Tony Stark can fit the archetypal role of the party's mage using his specialized knowledge of threats, and powerful one-off attacks like the omni-beam. All of these are indicative of the classic mage.
While the fighter is termed our feat monkey, and the rogue fits in as our skill monkey, the mage is the spell monkey. They have a suite of specific and powerful abilities with which to alter their surroundings or turn the tide of battle. In OGL systems, the mage leans hard into Intelligence and Wisdom. They are the brains of the group.
The mage's strength is in the pursuit of knowledge, whether scientific or arcane, with which they can reshape the world as they see fit. The mage can rely on devastatingly powerful one-off attacks as well as their brilliant insight and thorough knowledge. However, there is a flip-side to the glass cannon. The mage tends to be the most physically weak and vulnerable of the group. They may use their knowledge to cast or to invent ways to mitigate their physical limitations, but without such measures, they are easy pickings for an enemy.
The stereotypical mage is usually the party's expert, guide, or even the voice of reason. They can have a reputation for arrogance, scholasticism, dogmatism, or brilliance.
Within fantasy, there are a slew of mechanical and narrative variations on the mage. These include wizards, illusionists, druids, clerics, warlocks, bards, shamans, and sorcerors. In other settings, a player may play up the mental excellence, magical ability, or both. Such characters might be: telepathics, telekinetics, doctors, translators, navigators, accountants, professors, inventors, cultists, scholars, researchers, investigators, tech experts, chemists, etc.
In more light-hearted settings, the mage tends toward the mad scientist or light wielding zealot archetypes. In some ways, a religious mage or scholar can be very similar to a gag fighter, but with a different skill set.
Additionally, acting as the agent of an inept or capricious deity can add a lot of humor to a campaign.
In the mad scientist vein; the more absent-minded the inventor, or the more amoral the researcher, the better. Try to pepper in phrases involving "Those fools at the academy" or "The prudish sensibilities of the masses" or even "The, frankly, anti-intellectual will-to-live so often found among test subjects."
That said, we reach the end of our examination of the primary colors of character classes in tabletop roleplaying games. What are your thoughts on the mage? Any fun stories of your own adventures in magery? Tell us about them in the comments below. Until next time, happy gaming, all.
Let's finish out our look at the primary colors of character class with the mage.
The mage is archetypically the glass cannon. The fighter charges in, the rogue strikes from the shadows, and the mage calls down fire and arcane energies. Outside of fighting, the mage also fits the archetypes of the scholar. Think of Gandalf's encyclopedic knowledge of middle earth, Kvothe's scholastic background, or even the Elric brothers' quest for knowledge. Even a character like Tony Stark can fit the archetypal role of the party's mage using his specialized knowledge of threats, and powerful one-off attacks like the omni-beam. All of these are indicative of the classic mage.
While the fighter is termed our feat monkey, and the rogue fits in as our skill monkey, the mage is the spell monkey. They have a suite of specific and powerful abilities with which to alter their surroundings or turn the tide of battle. In OGL systems, the mage leans hard into Intelligence and Wisdom. They are the brains of the group.
The mage's strength is in the pursuit of knowledge, whether scientific or arcane, with which they can reshape the world as they see fit. The mage can rely on devastatingly powerful one-off attacks as well as their brilliant insight and thorough knowledge. However, there is a flip-side to the glass cannon. The mage tends to be the most physically weak and vulnerable of the group. They may use their knowledge to cast or to invent ways to mitigate their physical limitations, but without such measures, they are easy pickings for an enemy.
The stereotypical mage is usually the party's expert, guide, or even the voice of reason. They can have a reputation for arrogance, scholasticism, dogmatism, or brilliance.
Within fantasy, there are a slew of mechanical and narrative variations on the mage. These include wizards, illusionists, druids, clerics, warlocks, bards, shamans, and sorcerors. In other settings, a player may play up the mental excellence, magical ability, or both. Such characters might be: telepathics, telekinetics, doctors, translators, navigators, accountants, professors, inventors, cultists, scholars, researchers, investigators, tech experts, chemists, etc.
In more light-hearted settings, the mage tends toward the mad scientist or light wielding zealot archetypes. In some ways, a religious mage or scholar can be very similar to a gag fighter, but with a different skill set.
Additionally, acting as the agent of an inept or capricious deity can add a lot of humor to a campaign.
In the mad scientist vein; the more absent-minded the inventor, or the more amoral the researcher, the better. Try to pepper in phrases involving "Those fools at the academy" or "The prudish sensibilities of the masses" or even "The, frankly, anti-intellectual will-to-live so often found among test subjects."
That said, we reach the end of our examination of the primary colors of character classes in tabletop roleplaying games. What are your thoughts on the mage? Any fun stories of your own adventures in magery? Tell us about them in the comments below. Until next time, happy gaming, all.
Monday, December 11, 2017
The Primary Colors: The Rogue
Hey all,
In the last post, we took a closer look at the fighter. This time, we're moving through the list to take a closer look at the rogue.
The rogue is what I'll call an indirect combatant, or even a misdirection combatant. Where the fighter is straightforward, the rogue is anything but. The rogue has the most to do with the Dexterity, Intelligence, and Charisma attributes in OGL (open game license) systems. In d20 systems, the rogue could accurately be called the "skill monkey". However, in other systems and settings, the rogue can also act as a "face", or charisma-based spokesman for the group. Basically, if your character is liable to talk their way out of a fight, sneak away from a fight, fight from the shadows, fight dirty, or turn tail and run; they're probably some kind of Rogue.
This even includes adventuring nobles and politicians. This is under the logic of what kind of nobles in fiction tend to gravitate toward adventuring. These individuals tend to be swashbuckling rogues.
The rogue's strengths tend to be in their diverse and versatile skills. Where the fighter specializes, the rogue diversifies. An assassin rogue might be a master of disguise, stealth, escape artistry, marksmanship, lockpicking, poisons, courtly intrigue, and might even, in a pinch, negotiate their pay themselves. Conversely, the vanilla fighter is probably good with either melee or ranged weaponry, and maybe a shield. However, rogues tend to be reliant on gaining and keeping the upper hand. Taking the enemy by surprise, fast talking, slipping into the shadows, and other tactics can give the rogue the upper hand; but if they lose the advantage, they lose their momentum, and the entire encounter can go pear-shaped in a hurry. Simply put, they need the advantage, and will usually lose a fair fight.
The stereotypical rogue tends to be the party's: hired gun, face, wheel man, thief, or security expert. Typical traits for a classic rogue might be: sly, smooth, cunning, witty, and even cynical or misanthropic.
Within fantasy, rogues are probably the class least represented in other class variants. They are basically either assassins, thieves, and sometimes spies. In other genres, the rogue is the character defined by speed, whether that's quick movements, quick thinking, or quick wits, the rogue is just plain quick. Other genres could see some love for the rogue in the form of: hackers, technicians, information brokers, brothel madames, government men, bank men, snake oil salesmen, press-ganged sailors, merchantmen, privateers, hitmen, drug dealers, pickpockets, husslers, reporters, scavengers, and merchants.
Finally, let's look at how the rogue works in gag campaigns. The rogue can be a lot of fun in a lighthearted setting. Typically, this will manifest as some form of Chaotic Stupid alignment.
Some rogues play up the "thief" element in spades. If it's not nailed down, it's fair game. Think Rocket Raccoon, especially if you've seen the second Guardians of the Galaxy movie. Theft for the sake of theft, sometimes there's a plan, sometimes it was shiny, sometimes a thief is staying sharp, and sometimes the explanation is as a simple as "*shrug* I dunno, I was bored, I guess."
They also tend toward the "rule of funny". Sure, we're all in the deepest dungeon of a murderous psychopath king, but we had some laughs, huh?
The other classic for the rogue is to play up how vulnerable they are compared to the fighter and play them as an absolute coward. Scooby and Shaggy are probably the best examples in media of portraying a coward in an endearing way.
So, with that, let's move on and let the rogue rest for a bit. Next time, we'll plan to finish out the primary colors with our last entry, the Mage. What did you think of my write-up of the rogue? Anything you'd add? Any fun stories of your rogue you'd like to share? Feel free to share in the comments below.
In the last post, we took a closer look at the fighter. This time, we're moving through the list to take a closer look at the rogue.
The rogue is what I'll call an indirect combatant, or even a misdirection combatant. Where the fighter is straightforward, the rogue is anything but. The rogue has the most to do with the Dexterity, Intelligence, and Charisma attributes in OGL (open game license) systems. In d20 systems, the rogue could accurately be called the "skill monkey". However, in other systems and settings, the rogue can also act as a "face", or charisma-based spokesman for the group. Basically, if your character is liable to talk their way out of a fight, sneak away from a fight, fight from the shadows, fight dirty, or turn tail and run; they're probably some kind of Rogue.
This even includes adventuring nobles and politicians. This is under the logic of what kind of nobles in fiction tend to gravitate toward adventuring. These individuals tend to be swashbuckling rogues.
The rogue's strengths tend to be in their diverse and versatile skills. Where the fighter specializes, the rogue diversifies. An assassin rogue might be a master of disguise, stealth, escape artistry, marksmanship, lockpicking, poisons, courtly intrigue, and might even, in a pinch, negotiate their pay themselves. Conversely, the vanilla fighter is probably good with either melee or ranged weaponry, and maybe a shield. However, rogues tend to be reliant on gaining and keeping the upper hand. Taking the enemy by surprise, fast talking, slipping into the shadows, and other tactics can give the rogue the upper hand; but if they lose the advantage, they lose their momentum, and the entire encounter can go pear-shaped in a hurry. Simply put, they need the advantage, and will usually lose a fair fight.
The stereotypical rogue tends to be the party's: hired gun, face, wheel man, thief, or security expert. Typical traits for a classic rogue might be: sly, smooth, cunning, witty, and even cynical or misanthropic.
Within fantasy, rogues are probably the class least represented in other class variants. They are basically either assassins, thieves, and sometimes spies. In other genres, the rogue is the character defined by speed, whether that's quick movements, quick thinking, or quick wits, the rogue is just plain quick. Other genres could see some love for the rogue in the form of: hackers, technicians, information brokers, brothel madames, government men, bank men, snake oil salesmen, press-ganged sailors, merchantmen, privateers, hitmen, drug dealers, pickpockets, husslers, reporters, scavengers, and merchants.
Finally, let's look at how the rogue works in gag campaigns. The rogue can be a lot of fun in a lighthearted setting. Typically, this will manifest as some form of Chaotic Stupid alignment.
Some rogues play up the "thief" element in spades. If it's not nailed down, it's fair game. Think Rocket Raccoon, especially if you've seen the second Guardians of the Galaxy movie. Theft for the sake of theft, sometimes there's a plan, sometimes it was shiny, sometimes a thief is staying sharp, and sometimes the explanation is as a simple as "*shrug* I dunno, I was bored, I guess."
They also tend toward the "rule of funny". Sure, we're all in the deepest dungeon of a murderous psychopath king, but we had some laughs, huh?
The other classic for the rogue is to play up how vulnerable they are compared to the fighter and play them as an absolute coward. Scooby and Shaggy are probably the best examples in media of portraying a coward in an endearing way.
So, with that, let's move on and let the rogue rest for a bit. Next time, we'll plan to finish out the primary colors with our last entry, the Mage. What did you think of my write-up of the rogue? Anything you'd add? Any fun stories of your rogue you'd like to share? Feel free to share in the comments below.
Monday, November 20, 2017
The Primary Colors: The Fighter
Hey all,
I thought now would be a good chance to take a look at the classes in tabletop gaming that I'd call the primary colors. The reasons should be obvious, there's three of them, and every other class can be described as one of these three "but" . . .
The three classes I'm talking about are, of course, Fighter, Rogue, and Mage. This is tabletop gaming, so these won't be the same as MMOs' "Holy Trinity" of Tank, DPS, and Heal. We'll start with the most straightforward of these classes: the fighter.
The fighter is what I'll call a blow for blow combatant. At the most basic level, these are martial experts who are intended to both deliver and receive the physical violence of the adventure. Their most important attributes in the OGL are Strength, Dexterity, and Constitution. In d20 systems, the fighter is what we'll call the "feat monkey". Fighters collect feats, and feats make fighters more and more specialized for a specific form of combat.
The fighter's twin strengths are his defensive and offensive might. The fighter is difficult to best in head-to-head single combat. However, the fighter can easily become so specialized that they lose any battlefield versatility, and their lack of need for mental and social stats places those traits lower in their priorities. Fighters are not necessarily dumb and brutish, they simply often lack intrinsic motivation to improve mentally or socially.
The stereotypical fighter fills the party role of the muscle, the intimidator, the enforcer, and more often than other classes: the leader. They are commonly associated with traits such as: stoic, harsh, blunt, uncharismatic, tough, brutal, and disciplined.
Within fantasy, many variants on the fighter exist: the knight, the ranger, the barbarian, and the monk are some of the classic modified versions of the vanilla fighter. In other genres, the fighter is simply the blow for blow combatant who puts his faith in strength of arms. Soldiers, mech pilots, gunslingers, sheriffs, dockworkers, bouncers, prize fighters, raiders, gladiatorial slaves, and even some career military officers would best be played as variants of the basic fighter.
Now, on to the fun part: in a gag campaign, there are a lot of fun ways to add humor to the stereotypes and archetypes of the fighter. "Lawful stupid" is the classic, and it turns the fighter into anything from a penal-code spouting deputy all the way up to a raging inquisitioner.
Their inaptitude for all things magical opens up some opportunities to make mischief through ignorance. Just say "Oooo, what does this rune do?" in your best Deedee impression, and let the shenanigans commence.
Their hero complex can also be played for laughs. Zap Brannigan gets laughs for a reason, and JourneyQuest had one of the best lines, as the dim-witted Glorion boasted "Mercy? Perf, I'm far too brave to show you mercy!"
Finally, you can pick your airplane. B.A. Baracus from The A Team is a fighter in every sense of the word, and yet, his fear of airplanes not only draws a laugh, but humanizes his character amazingly well. Think of Indiana Jones and snakes. Think of Son Goku and needles. The classic humor route for the larger-than-life bringer of the pain is a major fear of a minor thing.
So, with that, we close for now on our discussion of the fighter. Did you agree with my thoughts on the fighter class? Do you have anything to add on what makes this "primary color" class what it is? Let's talk about that in the comments below, and until next time: happy gaming, all.
I thought now would be a good chance to take a look at the classes in tabletop gaming that I'd call the primary colors. The reasons should be obvious, there's three of them, and every other class can be described as one of these three "but" . . .
The three classes I'm talking about are, of course, Fighter, Rogue, and Mage. This is tabletop gaming, so these won't be the same as MMOs' "Holy Trinity" of Tank, DPS, and Heal. We'll start with the most straightforward of these classes: the fighter.
The fighter is what I'll call a blow for blow combatant. At the most basic level, these are martial experts who are intended to both deliver and receive the physical violence of the adventure. Their most important attributes in the OGL are Strength, Dexterity, and Constitution. In d20 systems, the fighter is what we'll call the "feat monkey". Fighters collect feats, and feats make fighters more and more specialized for a specific form of combat.
The fighter's twin strengths are his defensive and offensive might. The fighter is difficult to best in head-to-head single combat. However, the fighter can easily become so specialized that they lose any battlefield versatility, and their lack of need for mental and social stats places those traits lower in their priorities. Fighters are not necessarily dumb and brutish, they simply often lack intrinsic motivation to improve mentally or socially.
The stereotypical fighter fills the party role of the muscle, the intimidator, the enforcer, and more often than other classes: the leader. They are commonly associated with traits such as: stoic, harsh, blunt, uncharismatic, tough, brutal, and disciplined.
Within fantasy, many variants on the fighter exist: the knight, the ranger, the barbarian, and the monk are some of the classic modified versions of the vanilla fighter. In other genres, the fighter is simply the blow for blow combatant who puts his faith in strength of arms. Soldiers, mech pilots, gunslingers, sheriffs, dockworkers, bouncers, prize fighters, raiders, gladiatorial slaves, and even some career military officers would best be played as variants of the basic fighter.
Now, on to the fun part: in a gag campaign, there are a lot of fun ways to add humor to the stereotypes and archetypes of the fighter. "Lawful stupid" is the classic, and it turns the fighter into anything from a penal-code spouting deputy all the way up to a raging inquisitioner.
Their inaptitude for all things magical opens up some opportunities to make mischief through ignorance. Just say "Oooo, what does this rune do?" in your best Deedee impression, and let the shenanigans commence.
Their hero complex can also be played for laughs. Zap Brannigan gets laughs for a reason, and JourneyQuest had one of the best lines, as the dim-witted Glorion boasted "Mercy? Perf, I'm far too brave to show you mercy!"
Finally, you can pick your airplane. B.A. Baracus from The A Team is a fighter in every sense of the word, and yet, his fear of airplanes not only draws a laugh, but humanizes his character amazingly well. Think of Indiana Jones and snakes. Think of Son Goku and needles. The classic humor route for the larger-than-life bringer of the pain is a major fear of a minor thing.
So, with that, we close for now on our discussion of the fighter. Did you agree with my thoughts on the fighter class? Do you have anything to add on what makes this "primary color" class what it is? Let's talk about that in the comments below, and until next time: happy gaming, all.
Monday, November 13, 2017
The Sovereign Sponge
Hey all,
Thought I'd share a little bit of gamemasterly insight with y'all today. So . . . storytime!
Today I was thinking about how swords don't tend to work well against gelatinous enemies in fantasy settings. Typically, dungeons will include some variety of mold, slime, or ooze that blindly devours all in its path: rubble, player characters, what-have-you.
Now, I don't know why this became a thing. I'd probably attribute it to Gygax, but I'll admit, that's just a guess. I can't think of anything like this in Tolkien, so Gygax is a fairly safe bet.
Still, it's basically a fight against a giant jello mold. Real-life jello isn't best dealt with using blades, but it's also not something you'd normally take care of with blunt force. All that really leaves is a sponge.
Enter, the sovereign sponge (and yes, the name is an homage to sovereign glue). Simply toss the sponge into an ooze, and it draws in the entire enemy into itself. Naturally, such an item would be fairly valuable to the right brand of adventurer.
Of course, this leads to the next question, what if someone drops one into the ocean? This lead me back to a fantasy theory I'd seen before. Someone once pointed out that the magical spell "create water" is worded in such a way that, so long as the water gets consumed, it remains in the world permanently. Based on that, the theory went, it makes perfect sense that flooding would one day become an issue.
How does that relate to the sovereign sponge? It not only explains how the world can survive a sovereign sponge dropped into the ocean (the sponges absorb water at a rate that offsets the average rate of water creation from the "create water" spell), it actually explains why the invention of the sovereign sponge was necessary. This was made as a magical countermeasure to the effects of a widespread, low-level magical ability.
With all of this, we've established a very tenuous balance in the natural world. This gives us plot hooks for a campaign built around the concept of the sovereign sponge:
-In drought conditions, a mage decides to calculate and carry out a ritual spell that will neutralize all existing sovereign sponges to raise water levels worldwide.
-As magic becomes more widespread, many coastal towns are putting out bounties for the reagents necessary to have more sovereign sponges crafted to deal with the rising ocean levels.
-The death of magic, in addition to everything else attendant on the trope, comes with a mad max style loss of the world's oceans, as the create water spell ceases, but the sovereign sponges carry on unabated.
-A golem constructed from sovereign sponges constitutes a world-ending threat, and sparks deep philosophical questions about a sentient being's right to exist.
- Guild secrets about the manufacture of sovereign sponges are both closely guarded, and pursued for the promise of lucrative rewards for anyone who can duplicate the technique.
These are just a few campaign hook ideas for the sovereign sponge. What would you do with the sovereign sponge in your own campaign worlds?
Thought I'd share a little bit of gamemasterly insight with y'all today. So . . . storytime!
Today I was thinking about how swords don't tend to work well against gelatinous enemies in fantasy settings. Typically, dungeons will include some variety of mold, slime, or ooze that blindly devours all in its path: rubble, player characters, what-have-you.
Now, I don't know why this became a thing. I'd probably attribute it to Gygax, but I'll admit, that's just a guess. I can't think of anything like this in Tolkien, so Gygax is a fairly safe bet.
Still, it's basically a fight against a giant jello mold. Real-life jello isn't best dealt with using blades, but it's also not something you'd normally take care of with blunt force. All that really leaves is a sponge.
Enter, the sovereign sponge (and yes, the name is an homage to sovereign glue). Simply toss the sponge into an ooze, and it draws in the entire enemy into itself. Naturally, such an item would be fairly valuable to the right brand of adventurer.
Of course, this leads to the next question, what if someone drops one into the ocean? This lead me back to a fantasy theory I'd seen before. Someone once pointed out that the magical spell "create water" is worded in such a way that, so long as the water gets consumed, it remains in the world permanently. Based on that, the theory went, it makes perfect sense that flooding would one day become an issue.
How does that relate to the sovereign sponge? It not only explains how the world can survive a sovereign sponge dropped into the ocean (the sponges absorb water at a rate that offsets the average rate of water creation from the "create water" spell), it actually explains why the invention of the sovereign sponge was necessary. This was made as a magical countermeasure to the effects of a widespread, low-level magical ability.
With all of this, we've established a very tenuous balance in the natural world. This gives us plot hooks for a campaign built around the concept of the sovereign sponge:
-In drought conditions, a mage decides to calculate and carry out a ritual spell that will neutralize all existing sovereign sponges to raise water levels worldwide.
-As magic becomes more widespread, many coastal towns are putting out bounties for the reagents necessary to have more sovereign sponges crafted to deal with the rising ocean levels.
-The death of magic, in addition to everything else attendant on the trope, comes with a mad max style loss of the world's oceans, as the create water spell ceases, but the sovereign sponges carry on unabated.
-A golem constructed from sovereign sponges constitutes a world-ending threat, and sparks deep philosophical questions about a sentient being's right to exist.
- Guild secrets about the manufacture of sovereign sponges are both closely guarded, and pursued for the promise of lucrative rewards for anyone who can duplicate the technique.
These are just a few campaign hook ideas for the sovereign sponge. What would you do with the sovereign sponge in your own campaign worlds?
Monday, November 6, 2017
All Funnies and Games Update
Hey all,
Just to update the regular readers; thing have been branching out pretty far from the blog itself. My Youtube channel has been going well: with let's plays, game-related vlogs, unboxings, and more. I've been working on my twitter presence (slowly), and am looking at more content avenues in the future.
In the meantime, I do want to let everyone know that I'll be deleting the old Friday Funnies segments from the archive soon. I tried to link to the original content as often as possible, and, as a result, those posts are mostly collections of now-dead links. I'll probably be doing that in the next few days.
If you've been reading for a while, you probably have a good idea what this blog is all about, but I'd love to hear some feedback on the type of content you'd like to see moving forward. Leave comments below, or tweet them to me @JosephCoupal. I'd love to get my readers' feedback as I get ready to take this blog forward.
Thanks for reading, all.
Just to update the regular readers; thing have been branching out pretty far from the blog itself. My Youtube channel has been going well: with let's plays, game-related vlogs, unboxings, and more. I've been working on my twitter presence (slowly), and am looking at more content avenues in the future.
In the meantime, I do want to let everyone know that I'll be deleting the old Friday Funnies segments from the archive soon. I tried to link to the original content as often as possible, and, as a result, those posts are mostly collections of now-dead links. I'll probably be doing that in the next few days.
If you've been reading for a while, you probably have a good idea what this blog is all about, but I'd love to hear some feedback on the type of content you'd like to see moving forward. Leave comments below, or tweet them to me @JosephCoupal. I'd love to get my readers' feedback as I get ready to take this blog forward.
Thanks for reading, all.
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