Come Warfare, The Entire Doom (Wounding, Death, Dismemberment...)

While cultivating traditional aesthetics through adaptation of more modern systems, the disconnect caused by 5th Edition’s Unconsciousness mechanic made for a very, very sore sticking point. I found it to be disempowering, illogical and exploitable in unrealistic ways. A real tour de force, all told.

The throwaway lines given to adress the subject of lingering injuries in the DMG are equally frustrating. The chart is all over the place and lacks rhyme or reason despite having a few good entries.

Trollsmyth’s blog provided the idea for the bell-curve format that I’ve come to rely upon for results where a lower result dispersal is to be desired, the present example being pretty much archetypal.

Bigger, I get

I’ve not yet arrived at a definite vision of what I intend to do with this, mechanically-speaking. But the guiding lines at least are clear:

- Character resilience

Like Trollsmyth posits, the use of a table such as this actually improves character durability, something that can make it welcome, particularly at low levels, despite the trade-off in potential for lethality.

I’ve gone back and forth on whether or not to have a Saving Throw mediating the consequence of rolling on the table, ultimately deciding for it, despite this adding one more roll to the procedures; I did this in order to free up space for more interesting results on the table (which is a combination of Trollsmyth’s and the 5E DMG), rather than one or more slots being taken by “no consequence”. I’m not fully sold on this idea and thus the table did end up rather crowded, but I wanted to cram every interesting result in its entries.

Also, the DC of the Saving Throws, Death and otherwise, is up for brainstorming. Has to be something that accounts for multiple light weapon hits as well a big crunchy heavy ones.

- Player empowerment

If you’re down to 0 Hp, it is not yet the end, but you’re now in the business of juggling knives. The increased risk lays at the player’s feet the decision to press on or flee, knowing that the consequences will hereon in turn to dire.

- Variable length for conditions

This mechanic, a salvaged aspect of 5E’s 3-strikes Death Saving Throw rule, gives the player of a downed character an important measure of hope instead of up-front knowledge about the number of rounds the character’s going to spend in the sidelines, thus minimizing meta-gaming choices and turning combat less predictable. It  also allows for a few final dashes of glory even for a doomed character.

(The other option would be for the DM to secretly roll the duration of conditions in combat, but I prefer the former, as it is lighter on the bookkeeping and keeps the player doing something on his own turn, even if residual).

- Occasional permanent harshness

Consequences.

This is the big one. If you play around with dismemberment, the time will come when shit gets medieval. Retiring and replacing maimed characters should be an option, but I’d endeavour to have this occur at a cost; Cost in uniqueness, cost in relative power-level. Deciding on having rank-and-file join the party or carry on with a diminished veteran is a player’s choice to make.

Taking my notes from the school of Warhammer, I advise letting the player make that final roll that will save or condemn his character. The psychology involved in this cannot be overstated: It is a world of difference having someone hand you your character’s demise or having your own luck to curse.

Also, never underestimate the tension generated by gambling. If the stakes are high, this can mean the roll is made with bated breath, always a good feeling to invoke at a gaming table.

Finally, this table can also be used as a mechanical implement to abbreviate some traumatic events outside of combat, such as falls, by bypassing the Hp mechanic entirely and instead rolling directly on it, one or multiple times, as befits to the deadliness of the hazard.

À Boire et à Manger

Following in the tracks of last post, I set the bearings for a gameplay experience that accounts for resource depletion and ended up slapping together an inventory system, acting, like I said, simultaneously both as cause and consequence to this design choice.

Now, riffing on my own fuzz, it led me to reflect on certain unavoidable routines inherent to what I proposed - namely, the most mundane and repeatable depletion of all: provisions of food and water and the effects of the lack thereof.

For characters that are wont to do some travelling, it’s pretty unavoidable. Even whole fights might go by where luck and pluck dictate that no hit-points are lost, but food & water are pretty near the taxes of an old school exploration game: they’re as certain as death.

So I went looking at what the official books had to say on the matter. Once again, it’s proven that 5ed’s idea of realism is akin to a distant celebratory rifle shot fired up from the back of a speeding limo, barely even hoping to graze the broadest side of the concept. I understood this to be deliberate and there was at least the system of Exhaustion that I found interesting and decided to preserve.

From the basis of underwhelmed dismay at what I had read, it followed that I should go on looking for something better. The low-set bar pretty much condemned me to succeed.

It came in the shape of a semi-serialized string of blog posts by Eric Diaz, from the blog Methods & Madness.

Here, yes, things get a treatment that is much more relatable, thought-out and apt to see table play. His input towards unifying the systems and hammering them into a cohese rule feels perfect and totally in line with the level of grit I’m looking for. I set about dialling the lawyer, ‘cause I was about to commit some grand theft.

He first tackles the problem here and then extends it to a broader approach here. I can’t recommend Eric's blog enough, it is a goldmine that follows the grain for the sort of approach that I intend to take with my campaign.

Standardized timings for checking starvation/dehydration, good interface with the exhaustion mechanic, it’s all there, really. The spinning off into sleep deprivation and disease are equally nice.

I did the merest of adjustments (starvation checked every three days, instead of the mnemonic-friendly week) and here’s what I’m going to go with:

- Starvation, Dehydration, Exposure and Suffocation

Characters who spend more than three days without food, one day without water, one hour under extreme weather exposure without adequate clothing or one minute without air suffer two levels of exhaustion (see appendix A). This is repeated for each of the described periods (DC 15 Constitution saving throw to halve this effect).

Exhaustion caused by suffocation lasts until the character takes a Breather, exhaustion caused by lack of food or water can’t be removed until the character spends a day eating (or drinking) the full required amount.

Mind you, this is almost strict paraphrase. The hack is just that good.

What was left was the concern for the space taken up by provisions. It might seem like two whole slots of provisions (one for food, one for water) per day out of a total of twenty could be a tad on the punishing side, but I'll be sticking with it for now, since all I did was streamline things to fit the pattern: knowing that two slots translate to roughly 10 pounds, and confronting this with the fact that the (roughly) realistic totals for one day of water would account for nearly ten pounds on its own while food would be closer to three/four pounds to the day. This might be slimmed down to 1/3 slot for food in the shape of special rations, but that is about as much rope as I’m willing to give the matter.

One place where complexity rears its ugly head is in accounting for characters of small size. You’ll recall that I gave them only 15 slots to work with in the Inventory sheet, which means it would only be fair that they should waste less of what they’ve got on rations and drink but I’m simply not going there just now.

Besides, the option for going on half-rations exists to be a viable tactical choice, not strictly a last resort. For more than that, any sensible party ought to acquire a beast of burden.

The Unbearable Lightness of Encumbrance

Encumbrance. Such a dirty, dirty word.

Some hate it, some ignore it, some even use it;

I doubt many actually love it.

It’s a pickle of a topic among RPGers, one that constitutes a redoubtable watchtower, among many others, in the great dividing border between simulationism and a more casual gaming style.

Me? Well, since you’ve asked, I, ahm… loathe it.

If we’re talking the classic encumbrance by weight that is, then yes, loathe is the word I’ll go with.

It is fiddly, requires abstruse math and doesn’t simulate much of anything all that well in the end.

I proposed to use it and was promptly shot down like a Mitsubishi Zero heading into autocannon fire.

The thing is, encumbrance feels to me a vital part of dungeon-delving and hexcrawling. It is a game structure that takes skill to master and is something that leads to interesting narrowing of options from which great gameplay can be derived.

So, I rolled up the sleeves, rolled out and dusted off the faithful Plagiarism’a’thron and went to town.

Here I’m standing on the shoulder of some giants, previous ideas that to a great extent informed my thoughts on this: The Alexandrian’s Encumbrance by Stone, James Raggi’s Lamentations of the Flame Princess’s own system and Last Gasp’s sundry inventory shenanigans.

My aim is simple, to concoct an inventory system that is:

- Simple to apprehend yet grounded in a measure of logic.

- Agile and light on the accounting, keeping things close to the ground as relates to gameplay decisions rather than number-crunching.

- Able to interface with other systems of the rules in use at the table, hacked or otherwise.

- Compatible with 5ed D&D (my trojan horse of choice).

All said and done, here’s the current - though by no means definitive - version of this:

I get bigger.

And so do I.

Unsightly and ungainly? Yes.

Does it work? I aim to find out.

Its features, at a glance:

- Both weight encumbrance and carrying space are simulated, to a limited extent. A compromise solution that I’m pleased with.

- Slots are semi-abstracted, the exact location of each item not mattering overmuch, other than the presumption that the lower numbers are more accessible than the higher ones.

- 3 “hands” worth of weapons/items are always at the ready, a concept I saw somewhere and that felt makes sense.

- Slots can be randomly targetted with ease through a d20 roll.

- Containers of all sort have to be purchased/acquired for a character to make full use of his inventory space. This was a late development and was the answer I arrived at after I started questioning myself about characters being bare-clothed and how much stuff could they be expected to hold.

(Come market time, I don’t intend to be too much a stickler about this. It ought to be abstracted into a flat “cost-per-slot”, with the player deciding how best to split his gear among whatever containers he purchases).

Concepts and gameplay effects that I attempt to introduce through this system:

- Resource depletion (breakage, consumption and spoilage of items) is to be a rather central gameplay feature, this simultaneously feeds upon and provides reinforcement back into the idea of a limited inventory/carrying capacity.

- Strength attribute score becomes a fair bit more important.

- Money takes up space. As anyone who has ever worked with coinage can attest, it is anything _but_ portable when in large amounts.

This is only a working version, for I understand that this elevates the charsheet onto the lofty perch of 2-sheets/3 pages in one fell swoop. I’m honestly not married to the idea of a 2-page inventory, but this version is the more cumbersome (heh) for reason of being rules-reference plus the actual deal, all rolled into one. I’ll be making sure that it is slimmed down into a single page later on.

The Tyranny of the Physical Format

Players, as a rule, are resistant to change.

They are also, in my experience, to be counted among the demographic that tends to face the written word, when presented on a tangible surface, as the direct will of God. I wonder how that ever caught on...

Rather than fight this, I’m relenting to harness this tendency to further my own purposes.

It is my feeling that Wikis and blog posts will only take one so far. When a GM rattles off rule adaptations he intends to see used at the table, he’d better present something for grubby unknowing hands to leaf and thumb through, that the tiranny of the written word can leap off the page, grab the hesitant lambs by the hoof and lend credence to your jumble of house rules, taking them into the mystical enchanted valley of RAW.

As such, I’m endeavouring to lay down on paper everwhich alteration or system that I am to present my players with.

My only basic ground-rule is to pay more than just lip service at the feet of logic and common sense. Rule changes are always best presented as coming from an angle of plausibility, even when one is not striving for out-and-out simulation. I’m merely looking to mitigate some of the more egregious examples of what I took to calling the “power-up culture” within modern FRPGs: cut down on the rule of cool and sense of entitlement that seems to drench everything these days.

Thus, I’m not sharpening knives to kill characters, but I _am_ getting in gear to let them fail, flounder and, yes, die at the whim of dice and poor judgment.

If what I end up with is no longer recognizable as the game system adopted going in, all the better. I don’t intend to obfuscate what I’m doing, I’ll simply pitch it for what it is: an advanced, unrelenting, hard and, above all, honest take on the game.

I also don’t intend to complicate things just for complexity’s sake. My will is to simplify, my vice is to complicate. For that, too, spreading out my thoughts on this blog can be of use. There are currently a few things that are more complicated than need be, many that are too simple for my sensibilities and still others I don’t feel a pressing need to mess with.

My players will be sure to tell me which is which, I’ll be sure to fight them like a ram in heat. We all know this drill, am I right?

It is this fundamental touchstone for house-ruling that I wish to impress upon the reader: document your changes in a physical format and let the players absorb how much work and thought went into the thing. Don’t let them get away with a vague shrug and a bleat of “That’s Not How It Is In The Book!”.

So you make them a different book. Sure enough, it’ll take time, but if turning houserules into codified form is to be the price of a better game, then make headway and impress upon the group that these rules, unless provenly detrimental to the enjoyment of the game, are here to stay.

This’ll segue nicely into what I’ll be putting up next. Stay tuned.

Braving the Rapids of Realism

Alexis Smolensk made a rather incisive post regarding anachronistic ways of thinking about the game.

I’ve encountered this too, it is one sure way to break my immersion.

As I haltingly muck about with creating a setting, it defies my understanding that someone would take it upon himself to run that facet of the game with levity.

For, you see, that’s part of the ticket for a complete Rpg experience for me: discovering new worlds, different realities; and tackling them through the eyes and mores of a character. But it is the player's sensibilities that must be educated, confirmed or challenged, not the character's.

A rather big part of this is achieved by a consonance of expectations regarding realism, both natural and technological. It is a very important tether from our world to a fictional setting and one that is central in operating a duality: immersion through predictability and realism, wonder through unpredictable shattering of the latter.

If you’re like me and a few others, you recognize that the more the world is grounded on the historical realities that make it such a fascinating place, the more a little magic and whimsy can go a long way in contrasting with the rest.

If, on the other hand, you’re onboard with most contemporary rulesets and general disney-mentality of modern DnD playing, the act of leaning over details is to be faced with a stoic shrugging of the shoulders and a “let’s get this over with” frame of mind.

Understand, for all my rethoric, that I’m not a realism freak, much less a simulationist. There are plenty of aspects where the fictional character of a world can appealingly come to the referee's aid, as it allows him to gleefully tamper with things without fear of making everything hopelessly off, or – when things don’t quite slide on the little grooves and something he’s ignorant about gets asked or leveraged -  he can rely on the crutch of “in these lands, this is how it is done” or “magic & gods!”. 

But overdoing this steadily undermines the setting’s realism and is an appeal to laziness of the worst sort. Not exactly a refereeing but rather a GMing sin.

Understand, too, that I have many many shortcomings as regards the subject of this spiel. I’m not an encyclopaedia or an historian, an outdoorsman or even a recreator. I'm a suburbanite and good money says that so are you. I'm just pointing out the rocks while angling the kayak right their way all the same.

So you buckle down and you learn. That, come the right time, things that make sense will be found where they make sense and things that don’t make sense can suitably get themselves noticed as such.

It’s bad enough for me when the Renaissance bleeds too profusely all over the Medieval, but a lot can happen in degrees between modernity and the supposed historic period(s) depicted.

For example, I was shortly involved as a player in a maritime-themed campaign.

The initial action was framed to a departing ship on which the party supposedly first met; when asked about the ship's destination, it turned out its whole purpose was “for transport service between cities”. It had such quaint ammenities as “cabins” and even a convenient “bar” where the crew gathered. It was a regular Enterprise.

Later, the party came across a remote island village of 10-odd standing structures that included a full-fledged lighthouse in the middle of the settlement.

When sneaking through said village at night, we chanced upon the blacksmith’s. What did the party find in there, you could have asked? The answer: anvil, hammer, weapon rack, that’s it. That’s what a blacksmith is for. No mention of bellows, water pails, iron tongs, horseshoes, nails, plows, arrowheads, weapon heads, wheel-rims, pickaxes, shovels or any other kind of possible handiwork beside _completed_weapons_ and standing neatly in a rack, too. Thanks, video-games!

I get that a lot of such incongruities could be neatly explained away with a little effort, but it is the unthinking acceptance of their existence - with nary a raised eyebrow from the remaining players, mind you – that gets my goat and herds her to jump down a ravine, where at last it'll be happy. This is what happens when we fail to appreciate humanity’s existence-long struggle to master the natural environment. 

Of course, if the weapon dispense-a-thon is already the norm (something bordering on magical as it is), we then come to the heavy handed arcane daubings on this canvas: magic will forcibly have to be something so utterly unbalancing in natural terms that anyone with a brain has to aknowledge that its existence would upset the world in ways would that twist it out of all recongnizability.

And that right there, descending down the white-foaming rapids?

That’s right, that’s my immersion. Again.