Showing posts with label DnD. Show all posts
Showing posts with label DnD. Show all posts

Wednesday, 27 August 2025

Out now: Monsters! Horrors & Abominations

 
My new book, Monsters! Horrors & Abominations, is now published!

It's a 215 page bestiary crammed full of weird and flavourful monsters for D&D 5e/2025, like the...
👹 Endlessphant (wrinkled grey elephant's leg with a million knees)
👹 Big scaly one (gormless rubbery hound-god of trolls)
👹 Void oyster (beautiful nacre-petrifying abomination from beyond the stars)
👹 Stillness mage (undead weather-worker and master of doldrums)


Streamlined for combat encounters and delivered with tactics information, modern design innovations, great illustrations, and a touch of humour! Between the base creatures and tons of variants, there are 240 monsters from Challenge Rating 0 to 20.

All focused on the unsettling, underground, unspeakable, unholy, and undead!

Now available here as a PDF or a neat hardcover book!

And as a blog reader, feel free to use this code for 10% off the PDF, or if you would like the hardcover, this code for 10% off the physical book!


Tuesday, 17 June 2025

Monsters of the Month: Malevolent Revenants

The crumbling monuments of the living are haunted by spiteful remnants. Rotted bodies stir in their catacombs and merge in shambling hordes. Powerful mage-wights linger under peat mounds, poring over parchment secrets.

Portents stalk the ruins, faceless dry flesh barely containing their wrathful spirits. In ancient sepulchres deep beneath the earth, towering warriors guard glittering treasures. Above them, the night's silence stutters with the cackles of bestial ghuls.
 

Monsters of the Month: Malevolent Revenants banner image.
 

Monsters of the Month: Malevolent Revenants

A collection of undead horrors, this is the last of the mini-bestiaries I'm putting out for D&D 5e/2025!

New monsters. Special traits. Tactics advice. Lots of variant forms.

Live on Kickstarter! 

Check it out here! https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/periaptgames/monsters-of-the-month-malevolent-revenants 

If you missed earlier collections, you can pick them up as add-ons!

Corpse prisons! Kitbashed bone golems! Toadstool-encrusted ghouls! Sear them with the light! 

Tuesday, 18 February 2025

What if every D&D power could be used at will?

Seriously, what would happen?

I think that in D&D 5e:

  • Resource tracking is fiddly, takes valuably game time, and isn't particularly fun.
  • The game's built-in resource management is one of its weakest design elements. So much hinges on the long rest mechanic that resources feel all-or-nothing. Between published adventure content and the relative lack of 'living world' rules under the hood, resting tends to be either impossible or unpunished, with little middle ground, depending on the situation. The DM gets little guidance on making it work.
  • Resource management decisions are only sometimes important, and seldom very engaging or fun, compared to the other decisions made during play. You learn good spells and tactics, and it's seldom important to change them. You may sometimes have intel leading to an opportunity to prepare differently, but the game isn't so difficult that doing so is necessary, and there isn't much in the way of DM guidance or built-in mechanics for getting intel into the PCs' hands.
  • Most of the game's rules are about tactical life-or-death combat, and therefore the game itself is about tactical life-or-death combat (although of course not everyone plays it this way). Trying to conserve resources in combat is a big gamble. After the particularly resource-limited early levels, play styles tend to converge on 'open with full broadside' and not be punished for that.
  • It is a game where characters don't just have 'powers' but extravagant superpowers, and it's highly character-focused.
  • Character classes all have a fairly similarly design, considered in the abstract. They get an array of at-will small superpowers plus various rate-limited superpowers, almost all of which can be used a low-single-digit number of times between rests. Other limiters on powers (e.g. HP or GP costs) are rare.
  • The game's balance is precarious and a DM needs to develop skill to tread the line between 'feeling dangerous' and 'being unfair'.

Let's say you mostly agree with these premises. I think it follows that making all D&D 5e powers at-will – that is, removing their rate limits...

  • Would remove part of the game, but not an important one
  • Wouldn't get rid of interesting choices
  • Would work for all classes without changing typical playstyles
  • Would lean into the existing superpowered and character-focused feeling of the game
  • Would make gameplay much faster
  • Wouldn't upset a perfect game balance that doesn't exist.

Spam spells all you like. Action surge on every turn. Put ki points on every attack; metamagic on every spell; enter rage or confer bardic inspiration whenever you can spare a bonus action.

Wizard summoning enormous demon. Photo via Adobe Stock.

This is an idle fancy – I've never seen it done. But I'd be fascinated to see how it played out. Extrapolating some consequences that seem plausible:

  1. The DM could then abandon CR and offer challenges which would otherwise be completely unfair, then see what the players come up with.
  2. If the DM created a 'too easy' encounter as a result, it wouldn't matter, because the power disparity and lack of resource tracking means the encounter gets settled in a fraction of the time that combat, spell-based trickery, or the various resource-conserving hedges usually take at the table.
  3. The DM could alternatively keep CR but remove all the rate limiters on adversaries' resources: recharges, dailies, slots, etc. (But unlike character classes, this would affect some creatures much more than others)
  4. PCs wouldn't need to keep lesser powers and spell choices for backup offense. With normal ideas of challenge abandoned there should be more situations where a particular utility spell or defence is desperately needed. That suggests that spell selection might become a more interesting decision!

Now, historically this sort of thing would lead to a worsening of 'linear fighters, quadratic wizards', but I don't think the difference would be as large in this edition of the game, at least before the highest levels. Fighters getting two actions every turn via action surge is pretty huge, for example. The biggest difference might be in high-level utility powers, the kind where you normally have one use of a valuable high-level spell slot and have to consider whether to save it for a fight. Now you could Fabricate or create a permanent Wall of stone every ten minutes, Mind blank the whole party, spam divination spells, and so on.

What other issues would you need to navigate?

  • A few character powers stop mattering. For example, second-rate but 'cheap' healing features are mostly obviated by having lay on hands or a decent healing spell. You might need to introduce some 'alternative features' available to all classes.
  • Some character powers would become irrelevant as the character increased in level. This wouldn't matter except that I doubt they're evenly distributed over character classes. You'd want to add a mechanic for swapping defunct powers out once you grow out of them, for those classes that don't already have one.
  • There are some slightly more or less resource-limited classes, and they become slightly better or worse choices respectively as a result. I don't think this matters except for warlocks, who deviate from the overarching class design patterns. They'd keep their major disadvantage (few powers) while everyone gets a better version of their major advantage (powers usable more often).
  • At the highest levels, powers (and spells especially) can become absurdly strong. But having poked around, I think only a few of them would be real trouble. It might literally just be Wish and Divine Intervention!
    • If you're abandoning material costs from spells as well as spell slots, you'd want to look at the few spells that are highly constrained by GP cost: Forcecage, Clone, Sequester, Gate, etc.
    • I might be wrong; maybe top-tier spellcasting really does outcompete other classes. You could make level 8-9 spells the sole exception to the 'infinite resources' rule, perhaps sticking to slots or limiting them in some other way (once per hour?).
    • Rogues would now get infinite Stroke of Luck as their capstone: their attacks always hit and their ability checks always succeed. I don't think this actually outshines having infinite spells, but it might be boring.
  • If the PCs' opponents also have no constraints, there might be a risk at high levels of the game devolving into win-initiative-to-win-combat, but hopefully it would lead to unique solutions.

Implications for the world

Obviously things would get absurd, especially if this is the norm for all people in the setting. But I already think the implied and official D&D settings don't actually develop most of the implications of the things that are canonically possible within them. All sorts of things (technologies, prices, lifestyles, community structures, social structures, etc) ought to look completely alien on the basis of low-level spells alone, and yet the setting (with its dramatic mixture of tech levels, dramatic mixture of society types, dramatic mixture of stakes, etc) stands unaffected.

But overall, losing even more immersion in a typical fantasy setting does strike me as a glaring issue, yes. Maybe abandoning rate limits would work in a more (post-)apocalyptic setting? One where everything is chaotic and in flux, where huge changes happen in the world very quickly, where absurdly spectacular powers are harnessed to mundane ends, and where nightmarishly powerful entities regularly make an appearance?

Saturday, 28 December 2024

Monsters of the Month: Mindless Devastation

My end-of-the-year monster collection for D&D 5e is funding now on Kickstarter!

This new 45-page compendium gathers tons of monsters under a single theme: swarms and other mindless rampagers. Hellbat colonies, malformed omens, dissolving hydras, swarms of undead leeches, star-seeded abominations, octopoid leviathans, and many more!

Book cover. Monsters of the Month: Mindless Devastation.


Check it out!

A group of burning fiendish figures. Illustration. Source: Adobe Stock.


Wednesday, 20 November 2024

Monsters of the Month: Otherworldly Aberrations

The sky ruptures along some philosophical faultline and the sun splatters across the horizon like a dropped egg. There comes the distant dull crack of the cosmos breaking. Aberrant things begin to drip out of fissures in reality.

Fluorescent vermin with odd limbs come to graze on the verdant quiddity. Abominations fall from the flickering stars, and the world turns to mismatched bone and metal as they crawl by. There is something striding across the upper atmosphere, spindly legs higher than any tower. Space itself breaks open, and things feed on its viscera.

Divider.

Introducing the first in what should be a series of monster books for Dungeons & Dragons! This one is all about extraplanar and interdimensional beasties, like the Treader: an infinitely-long spindly leg dangling from the sky and traipsing about the landscape.

Banner image.

Inside this creature compendium, you'll find

  •     38 pages of bizarre monsters from CR 0 to CR 16
  •     Tactical advice for each monster
  •     Creatures crafted with modern D&D 5e design principles
  •     50 variant monsters for different environments and themes

Available now on DriveThruRPG!

Saturday, 12 October 2024

Monsters! Horrors & Abominations is on Kickstarter!

Can you ever have enough weird horrible monsters?

Are you ready for...

  • Sapient coral!
  • Were-angels!
  • Infinite sky legs!
  • Crooning rot!
  • Primeval lizard gods!
  • Undead swarms!
  • Void oysters!
  • Rule eaters!
  • Divine parasites!


This year has been spent hewing away at my new creation, Monsters! Horrors & Abominations, a hefty tome full of unique, flavourful monsters for use in your D&D 5e games. The whole book is designed for running combat encounters, with dedicated tactics advice, new traits and powers, encounter tables, a touch of humour, and tons of variants for each base creature!

Help bring the project to life on Kickstarter!

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/periaptgames/monsters-horrors-and-abominations

Monday, 7 October 2024

Monsters! Horrors & Abominations

It's the Halloween season. And that means...

My new book, ‘Monsters! Horrors & Abominations’, is coming soon to Kickstarter! It's a 210+ page bestiary crammed full of weird and flavourful monsters for D&D 5e, like the...

👹 Endlessphant (wrinkled grey elephant's leg with a million knees)

👹 Big scaly one (gormless rubbery hound-god of trolls)

👹 Void oyster (nacre-petrifying abomination from beyond the stars)

All streamlined for combat encounters and delivered with tactics information, modern design innovations, great illustrations, and a touch of humour! Between base creatures and variants of them, we're looking at a total 240 monsters, ranging from Challenge Rating 0 to 20!

 

Unsettling, unspeakable things found underground, amidst the unholy and undead!

Follow along now on Kickstarter to get notified on launch!

Thursday, 12 September 2024

Playtesting D&D monsters

I've been running quite a lot of playtests recently, so thought I'd talk about a few of the ins and outs of the process.

This is through a D&D 5e lens, but I suspect it generalises.

If you're planning to publish a monster, thorough playtesting is a must. It's not, sadly, a case of "run it once for your regular group's entertainment". You must run it until you have complete confidence in your work.

There are lots of design elements that you're going to need to juggle your focus on in playtesting, but we can group them into three main things:

  1. Double-checking the maths
  2. Ensuring it's fun
  3. Watching for corner cases

Cavern full of eyeballs.

Double-checking the maths

If you meticulously follow the D&D Challenge Rating rules in the DMG, you get a perfectly serviceable CR... As long as you can draw strong parallels between the monster's traits and those for which the book provides appropriate adjustments. For a trait that's really off the wall and you're not sure how large an effect it might have, playtesting becomes that much more crucial.

Particular things to keep an eye on:

  1. Monsters designed for very low or high CR. Low-level D&D characters are more vulnerable to individual dice outcomes; high-level characters can take advantage of synergies and have more options.
  2. Huge damage swings. A monster with a magic item that rolls 1d20 for 19 different cantrip effects and a ninth-level spell on a 20 might be balanced at a low-middle CR according to the mathematical averages. In practise, though, you're going to have one of two different unsatisfying play experiences.
  3. Offensive/defensive balance. As well as a monster being 'too easy' or 'too hard', being 'too arduous' to fight is also a design failure. D&D 5e (a) makes combat front-and-centre, (b) has a lot of fiddly rules for it, and (c) disincentivises players planning their turn before taking it. This adds up to a big risk of combat encounters dragging on. It's generally (although not always) safer to tweak the OCR higher and the DCR lower.
  4. Character optimisation. Creatures with book values are 'safe'. Starting players will on average have a good time fighting them, won't typically struggle at all with a level-appropriate Medium encounter, etc. Optimisers will take the same monsters and run them through the blender in a single round. There's no silver bullet here. In fact, there's no bullet. You simply have to balance for the 'default case' and then expect DMs to make changes to encounter design (or individual monsters) as necessary.

Ensuring it's fun

Monsters can be mathematically sound but boring to play. It's easy to come up with examples. Imagine a beast that negates a huge slew of character powers but can be readily whittled down with a steady barrage of normal attacks, while attacking once per round itself. Or one that hedges a specific character archetype out of the fight, while being unable to harm such characters. Or one that can only be engaged at range.

Judging the fun is the subjective bit of playtesting, and as hours and hours of combat turns pass, it gets harder and harder. Break up the work. Roll the dice instead of using average damage, just to see how it feels. Work out in advance how you're going to track player feedback on what feels satisfying and what doesn't.

Hopefully, you'll find sudden joy in stuff you didn't expect, and that will inform your work as a designer. The other day I tested a weak undead horde creature that I'd given an 'overkill' trait: a good enough roll lets the attacker kill it and cleave through into an adjacent creature of the same type. It turns out that kind of outcome, mowing down chaff with a single shot due to it being such a visibly fragile enemy, feels great for low-level characters who lack many special abilities for area damage!

Watching for corner cases

There'll be all sorts of things you didn't think of while designing. This creature is inorganic; it should be immune to poison. This creature appears in groups; it would be better off without the multiattack.

This creature's special power doesn't actually work as described... or lets it do this cheesy thing... or perhaps more commonly, it works fine, but you didn't describe it clearly enough for a DM to use. Get other eyes on your work as soon as possible (but that's a whole other article).

You won't find the problems if you don't actually examine the monster interacting with the existing rules, in a 'real' situation.

Playtesting is a big task...

...but it doesn't have to be a chore. Be organised, have a plan going in, intersperse it with other kinds of work, take joy from the emergent consequences as you would from a real game, and then the repetitiveness of it won't kill off all your fun.

Friday, 5 April 2024

Alternatives to Legendary resistance

Preface

Dungeons & Dragons 5e is a game that is fundamentally about combat. The outright majority of the game's mechanics and systems are geared that way. Of the ~25 pieces of information in a typical 5e monster stat block, 70 percent are combat stats and 20 percent are combat-related.

D&D 5e also offers tools for balancing combats by character level, purportedly with a fine degree of accuracy, and the Game Master's use of these tools is intrinsic to the core gameplay.

As a central, fine-tuned, high-stakes part of the game, combat therefore needs to work well and be satisfying.


Solo monsters

Some of the most archetypal tabletop gaming experiences pit a small group of player characters against one powerful, dangerous, usually large, monster.

But consider the boss and/or solo monster (and to a degree, monsters that appear in pairs or with a group of weak minions). In at least the last twenty years of D&D editions, boss monsters have suffered from a pair of related issues.

  • First, they are often outplayed in the 'action economy'.
  • Second, they are particularly vulnerable to 'save-or-suck' abilities, such that only one success is needed to trivialise the combat encounter.

5e does fairly well on the action economy stakes – at least, for legendary monsters which can enhance their multiattack or once-per-turn spell with lair actions and legendary actions. A GM who uses a non-legendary high-CR creature as a boss monster may find it falls behind in its ability to act (unless they pick something like the marilith or hydra, which have large numbers of attacks and extra reactions).

But 5e's approach to proofing bosses against save-or-suck is a blunt instrument.


Warrior fights a hydra in the sea


Legendary resistance

D&D 5e is stuffed with status effects and such – banishment, restraint, incapacitation, sleep, save-or-die, paralysis, blindness, mind control, etc – which can be useful when levelled against a group of adversaries, but which risk trivialising a boss fight if pulled off.

The 5e designers were aware of this:

  • Some ongoing status effects offer a saving throw repeated each turn to escape. (But there is little overall consistency on this.)
  • Boss monsters tend to get improved saving throws.
  • Boss monsters also fairly often have advantage on saves via Magic resistance.
This does help bosses resist neutralisation by save-or-suck. But because of the amount and flatness of a d20's variance, this risks turning the meta-game into action economy optimisation with a hint of roulette wheel.

So the designers also came up with the blunt instrument of 'Legendary resistance', to discourage players even trying save-or-suck spells in a boss fight. Three times a day, when a boss monster fails its save, it can choose to succeed instead.

And this basically works. It creates incentives to use alternative abilities (straight damage, buffing or summoning allies, no-save spells like Forcecage, Heat Metal, and Maze, etc).

Players can still try to double down on incapacitation if they really want to, but have to use attrition to penetrate the boss's saves and its uses of Legendary resistance. It becomes a hit points analogue, with high randomness and low granularity.

 

Grim reaper leads a pack of hungry hounds

The problem is that just no-selling a player character ability isn't very fun at the table, and doesn't align well with other aspects of 5e's design.

It can also have unintended consequences. Player characters are incentivised in the meta-game to 'use up' the boss monster's Legendary resistance with their weakest, longest-range, and cheapest or most easily replenished abilities, while trying to disguise which ability they are using, to foil their adversary's ability to choose whether to no-sell something. This 'optimal tactic' can really throw you out of the game if you were expecting to be simulating a thrilling high-stakes encounter against a powerful monster.


Simple alternatives

Here are some ways you can change Legendary resistance to make it more fun and subtle, in order of least noticeable to most substantial change.

1. Make it have a cost. When Legendary resistance kicks in, the monster loses hit points, or a spell slot, or has disadvantage on saving throws until its next turn. This makes it more of an emergency measure but isn't always easy to justify in-universe.

2. Make it use up the creature's reaction. This at least means that the monster must be more selective about its use of Legendary resistance. If it has access to a special reaction like Parry or casting Shield, it also needs to balance against the possibility that it will want to use its reaction for that this round.

3. Make it a legendary action. One which can't be used on the same turn the saving throw was failed. The PCs get to capitalise on the status effect for at least one turn, and get to witness the monster actually do something to end the effect (e.g., giving a monstrous howl, straining its muscles, spitting up blood, clawing at itself). There's also the opportunity cost of legendary action selection.

4. Make it a bonus action. This is the same thing but more so: the creature must wait until its next turn to end the effect. If the boss monster has special bonus actions, now it must forego one to shrug off a status effect.

You could then give Legendary resistance variants to various not-necessarily-boss monsters that are "meant" to stick in a fight longer, replacing the unreliable high save bonuses + Magic resistance combination.

 

Complex alternatives

Finally, if you have the time and inclination, you could fully overhaul 5e's framework of status conditions.

One modern design paradigm is to stack worsening status effects / spell effects. For example, Pathfinder uses variable status penalties: clumsy, doomed, drained, enfeebled, frightened, sickened, slowed, stunned, and stupefied incrementally penalise checks and task DCs.

Once you have gradated rather than binary conditions, more powerful 'boss' monsters can be given a greater initial resistance to those effects, or a greater capacity to suffer them, or substantially higher values in all the numbers that will be penalised, or a special ability to reduce them over the course of combat.

Sunday, 21 January 2024

Improving Swarms for D&D 5e

As part of a creature project, I'm taking a look at improving the 'swarm of creatures' mechanics in Fifth Edition Dungeons & Dragons.

The problem is one of verisimilitude balanced against the quirks of the 5e combat system, and a desire to make swarms uniquely vulnerable to the things they should be vulnerable to while dangerous if you're fighting them without those things. Only fun solutions are allowed!

Animals swarming

What are the essential characteristics of a swarm?

A swarm of creatures is a notable opponent because each of its diminutive components is, almost by definition, (a) mostly harmless and (b) trivially defeated. Only en mass are they dangerous and require effort to destroy.

Characteristic 1: Weapons shouldn't matter, but strategies might

A lot of TTRPGs massively undersell the killing power of a bladed weapon compared to a blunt strike in almost all situations. One exception is fighting a swarm.

Typical swarms are made from creatures so small that the more effective approach to fighting them would be to hit them with something broad, in order to crush as many as possible at a time. If you have six seconds to spend and you're fighting a homogenous area of a thousand flying bugs in the space in front and to the sides of you, then we can imagine shooting an arrow might kill ~0.5% of the swarm if you're lucky, swinging a razor-sharp blade could kill ~1%, and swinging an ordinary dining chair could kill ~5%. If they're ground-based creatures, stamping on them or rolling around on them are likely to be far better strategies than swinging a weapon.

So if a player character wants to fight a swarm, then we only have to consider whether they're in melee or shooting at range; to simplify we might generously allow melee weapons to be as effective as unarmed or improvised attacks, so that players don't feel silly just having their characters stamp up and down every turn. Ranged attacks should be much worse, though.

As the swarm's component creatures become larger and more dangerous, the martial skill and physical power of the person fighting them might begin to matter. But for heroic fantasy like D&D 5e, I think we would generalise 'fighting skill and power' to 'character level': CR 18 swarms should be made up of individual creatures of a kind that any 18th level character can destroy trivially and in quick succession in a fight; the same creatures might individually pose a small challenge to 1st level characters, but the 5e design parameter of bounded accuracy limits the degree to which this can be true.

Characteristic 2: Big, flowing, and diffuse

A swarm is made of tiny little freely-moving elements, and therefore behaves something like a fluid: it can get into small spaces, surround creatures, and so on. Healing, strengthening, or weakening an individual creature shouldn't have any impact on the swarm.

How large and dense is a swarm of animals? Dense enough to see it clearly, as a bare minimum. In practise, I think it would be more viscerally horrible if it's really dense, with creatures crawling all over each other.

  • As a bare minimum density, I think we should imagine at least one flying bug in every 4×4×4 cm cube. Then we would have more than 15,500 bugs in a cubic metre, which is about the space you could swing a chair through.
  • Alternatively, we can imagine one larger flying creature like a small bird or bat in each 25×25×25 cm cube. There would be 64 such creatures in a cubic metre.
  • For a dense mass of beetles crawling over each other on the ground, we need at least one beetle every 2×2 cm. Then we would have at least 2500 bugs in a square metre.
  • Likewise, for rats or tarantulas or other larger creatures, I would expect at least one animal every 10×10 cm, for at least a hundred critters in a square metre.

I envisage swarms as having a big dangerous centre part and a much less dense 'periphery' of creatures that continually enter and leave the centre, but are mostly harmless. We can think of the swarm as being all the creature in it, but it's mostly the ones in the core attacking and grouped up in ways that makes it possible to kill them at any reasonable rate.

When I sit back and imagine a swarm, the whole thing must be at least five square metres on the ground, or at least ten cubic metres if flying – preferably much larger. Anything smaller seems pitifully small. Of that, the dangerous core is maybe a fifth to a half of its area (or volume).

This back-of-the-napkin maths implies you're fighting ~150,000 wasps or ~640 bats or ~12,500 centipedes or ~500 rats.

Dense swarm of insects

It's a good place for a reality check. Here on Earth...

  • A bat colony has several hundred bats
  • A honeybee swarm has 5,000 to 40,000 bees
  • A murmuration of starlings has 5,000 to 50,000 birds
  • Army ants form swarms or columns of between 200,000 and 20 million ants
  • A desert locust swarm is pretty diffuse, with 'only' 50 to 70 locusts per square metre but covering hundreds of square kilometres in total

Real-world swarms are probably much less dense than the ravenous fantasy swarms we imagine. But whether they are or aren't, the numbers don't seem off by multiple orders of magnitude.

Characteristic 3: Time required for attrition

Assuming a swarm is only dangerous because it is a very large group of marginally dangerous creatures, it should take a long time to destroy in melee combat.

If you have a six-second turn, maybe you can completely destroy half a cubic metre of flying creatures by swinging a chair through them, or annihilate a quarter of a square metre of ground-based creatures by jumping up and down on them. I actually think that's generous even for characters in a heroic fantasy genre.

Then with the parameters we've established it should take a minimum of 20 character turns to kill a swarm in melee (as a level-appropriate moderate challenge, 5 rounds for a party of four characters). For the kind of bigger, more dense swarms that we'd prefer, it 'should' take much longer to destroy a swarm without something that takes out a huge chunk out of it at once (see Characteristic 8, below).

Characteristic 4: Easy to hit

It shouldn't really be possible to try to harm a swarm and fail.

It doesn't matter if you're swinging an axe at bats or stamping on centipedes, we're talking about a packed area of low-intelligence creatures with little situational awareness, a flocking instinct, possibly driven into a frenzy, and surrounding their enemies on all sides. They're not getting out of the way.

In D&D terms, it shouldn't require an attack roll to take a swing at a swarm, and they should at least have disadvantage on most saving throws.

Characteristic 5: Dangerous in numbers

A swarm should be able to attack almost indiscriminately. Ideally, anything inside it should get hit; we might limit this to a 'multiattack' to make it faster.

As a swarm gets smaller, the amount of harm it can do should fall.

  • If a swarm takes up less volume as it suffers attrition, keeping the same density, then the number of targets it can attack simultaneously goes down.
  • If a swarm takes up the same volume as it is attrited, its density falling instead, then the amount of harm it does to each target goes down.
  • If a swarm's volume and density are both reduced, then you could justify either option.
Big angry ants


Characteristic 6: A reason for cohesion

The main reason (on Earth) that animals band together in swarm is to defend against predators. There's both 'safety in numbers' in the sense of an individual becoming statistically less likely to be predated, but also, the movements of the group can confuse or in some cases intimidate predators. There are rare exceptions, like army ants, which seem dangerous because they group up to hunt. I think it's safe to say that fantasy swarms are more like the latter.

A swarm sticks together, but clearly doesn't have to – its individual components aren't physically connected. It's a matter of taste as to whether parts that get separated can rejoin the swarm to continue acting in unison; I would rule that they can.

A swarm also can't react quickly or precisely or perform complex tasks, and its individual creatures attack pretty much blindly. In D&D terms, I wouldn't let it make attacks of opportunity: if you're in the swarm, you're being constantly bitten (with lots of miniscule harm adding up to HP worth of damage), and if you're not, you're not. If anything, a creature should suffer less harm for leaving the swarm's area sooner, but that's difficult to reconcile with D&D mechanics for only a small payoff.

Something is motivating the swarm to act as if it were a single creature. Maybe...

  • A true hive-mind has emerged from the swarm, or
  • A foreign overmind is controlling it, or
  • There's some spell or fantastical natural force in play, or
  • The individual creatures have a psychic bond

It seems likely that forcibly disrupting the swarm's cohesion would be particularly harmful to it. Depending on the nature of the outside motivator, the swarm might be particularly vulnerable to psychic damage, or it might shrug it off completely. I personally favour the former.

Things that affect a creature's physical body (conditions like paralysis, poison, and petrification) probably only affect one or a small number of bodies within the swarm, for negligible effect. We could model this as the minimum unit of harm in D&D, 1 hit point loss.

Characteristic 7: Extreme susceptibility to area damage

A little creatures which is individually below notice can be killed instantly by almost any attack. Some attacks are indiscriminate, hitting everything in an area. Even a really dense swarm probably has some room between creatures for such effects to penetrate.

It follows that effects like fire, force waves, toxic or corrosive clouds, rough weather, etc should do massive damage to a swarm. A swarm caught entirely within such an effect might struggle to survive at all! In D&D terms, it is not sufficient to model these kinds of things as different damage types. "6d6 poison damage to any creature in the cloud of poison" should kill a swarm; "6d6 poison damage to a creature hit by the arrow" should barely inconvenience it.


So does 5e capture these essential characteristics?

Not sufficiently, although the writers made an effort in that direction. Consider the six swarms in the D&D 5e System Reference Document (SRD).

Characteristic 1: Weapons shouldn't matter, but strategies might
Characteristic 7: Extreme susceptibility to area damage

SRD swarms do resist the kind of damage usually associated with weapons.

❌ ...But on average a longbow will still do more damage than a club, which will still do more damage than fists and feet, i.e., the opposite of what we'd expect.

❌ More martially skilled characters deal substantially more damage than less martially skilled characters when smacking at a SRD swarm in their space. We wouldn't expect this, especially at low levels (where flailing around with something broad and heavy to crush dozens or hundreds will always be a good strategy).

SRD swarms don't resist any of the classic area spell damage types, making damage spells a good choice against them.

❌ ...But nor do they resist single-target spell damage. And if an area spell does deal weapon-like damage, an SRD swarm takes half damage from it (which it really shouldn't).

Characteristic 2: Big, flowing, and diffuse

The SRD absolutely nails the 'Swarm' trait. I don't think it needs to change at all.

❌ The SRD swarms are Medium in size. Even if we imagine this as the most dense centre part of the swarm, this still feels too small for any but the absolute weakest of swarms (admittedly all the SRD swarms have a low CR).

Characteristic 3: Time required for attrition
Characteristic 4: Easy to hit
 

❌ The SRD swarms have similar HP to comparable SRD monsters, but their resistances effectively double it. However, their HP is unremarkable per the DMG monster creation rules, even factoring in resistances. They should be harder to destroy using single-target attacks.

❌ Likewise, their AC is typical for their Challenge Ratings, so a fair number of attacks (at least a third) will just miss them, even though that makes no sense.

Characteristic 5: Dangerous in numbers

The SRD swarms lose half their damage output when reduced below half health, calling to mind 4e's Bloodied condition. I think only changing it one time at half HP is reasonable. It means a swarm's current number of component creatures is directly reflected in its damage, but doesn't create more mental load for the GM with a more complex way of doing that.

❌ To have a SRD swarm attack lots of creatures at once, the GM has to fake it by using multiple swarms together. Really a swarm should be larger and dangerous to anything inside it. Think about the verb form of the word 'swarm'.

Characteristic 6: A reason for cohesion

SRD swarms are immune to most conditions, as we would expect. There are some edge cases like blinded, deafened, and poisoned which the designers let affect them (the first one possibly due to how light and obscuration are defined).

❌ Swarms probably shouldn't distinguish 'attacks of opportunity' from just continually attacking. Also, SRD swarms are affected normally by psychic damage despite being made up of hundreds or thousands of minds.

 

Owls and bats flocking together

Evolution of solutions

When I initially wrote a more plausible 5e swarm based on that analysis, playtesting showed that I'd gone too far in the direction of realism. The fun was being lost.

Swarms could be blown up by quite low level spells, and a combat run strictly with melee attacks was a grind: arduous but not very dangerous.

In 5e, combats that go beyond three rounds are uncommon, ones that go beyond four rounds are rare, and so on. When the four PCs took six rounds to destroy just one of three lower-CR swarms I knew I'd miscalculated. Out of a sense of morbid curiosity, I gamed out eleven(!) more rounds before the fight was over.

Fortunately, I found some tweaks that solved this:

  • Harmful area effects should do a lot of extra damage to a swarm (especially if all of it is in the area) without completely trivialising an encounter.
  • A melee attacker can't waste every turn inflicting really trivial damage on a swarm. (It's fine to make single-target ranged attacks useless, because 5e has no strictly ranged glass cannons, and the character types that come near that all have access to area damage.)
  • Swarms can have middling damage that drops when they hit half HP, as long as they deal some small damage on a miss, for an effect akin to a damaging aura.

With these changes, fights using just one or two spells last a good number of rounds. Multiple spellcasters willing to expend their best spell slot in their first turn can destroy swarms easily if they want to pay that cost. Fights with mostly mundane combat go longer than normal, but not outrageously so. More importantly, damage-on-miss makes swarms feel dangerous; between that and 'you can't fail to hit a swarm', the two sides are continually wearing each other down.

The final stat block isn't as completely verisimilitudinous as my initial vision, but overall it's a fun challenge to fight with a reward for thoughtful play, which is important. And the other changes to the SRD 'swarm' type monster implied by this article's analysis all worked well, so they'll be included in the final write-up.

Of course, to make this all hang together, the modified swarm needs a large number of traits (as well as some slightly unusual stat block entries like damage-on-miss and broad spectrum condition immunities). That's a no-no; it imposes substantial cognitive load on the GM, especially a GM trying to use it on the fly.

The next step, then, will be a challenge: Edit the text into a shorter form which presents the most important information in a way that's easy to find while keeping the writing crisp and clear. But isn't that always the case?

Thursday, 23 November 2023

This month's writing

Here at Periapt Games I've just reached the first milestone on some fantasy monster design work for an upcoming book. The first milestone is "all the content is drafted". The second milestone will be getting through all the playtesting and ensuing revisions; third is finishing the supporting text and copy-editing; fourth is the layout being done; fifth is the art being finalised and proofs approved; etc.

(A major lesson in writing for production is that the actual writing is only a sliver of the process.)

What's my philosophy of fantasy monster design?

A monster should be easy to run. It should be plausible and/or fit a specific setting. It should be fresh. It should touch on classic tropes, but should also be weird. It should be easily tweaked or be presented alongside minor variations.

That means...

Aberrant grazers. Sorcerous byproducts. Creatures that lurk, beguile, and trap. Entities which warp the world around them. Small things made giant. Spells escaped from spellbooks and given form. Swarms which actually work the way they ought to. Monsters that are also transdimensional portals. The world's largest garden pest. Ethereal spirits lurking at the heart of permanently raging storms. And many many more.

And maybe whatever this thing is?

Hopefully I'll be able to share a more substantive update before the end of the year!

Friday, 22 September 2023

d6 degrees of success with anything


Is the badger's burrow wide enough to squeeze down? Is the giant scorpion's flesh edible? Are the bars set in a stone weak enough to chip away? Will the dead tree's branch stand up to the dwarf's weight? Does the abandoned generator have any gas left in it?

You're a GM and need to determine some aspect of your world. Roll a d6. 1 is the worst plausible outcome for the characters, 6 is the best, and everything else is shades in between.

Why do this?

  • It's quicker than any other rules-based approach
  • It's helpful if you have trouble just snap deciding the answers to questions
  • It's useful when something would affect the PCs, so you would be either 'handing them a win' or 'screwing them over' by fiat
  • The dice can surprise you and challenge you
  • When not everything has the most likely default answer, it can make a world feel more real
  • There might be a rule for this situation (or one that can be adapted), but you don't remember where it is


The "crawling down the badger burrow" example:
1 - Looks barely wide enough to get down, but narrows partway through, so characters can get stuck upside down in the middle of a twisty dirt tube
2 - Isn't wide enough to squeeze through
3 - Is wide enough to squeeze down but requires a little digging around the bends
4,5 - Is wide enough for the smaller characters, but not the largest
6 - Is just large enough for everyone to get through

The "eating the giant scorpion meat" example:
1 - Is poisonous; incautious consumers suffer a minor ongoing poison effect
2 - Is mildly toxic; characters start throwing it up shortly after getting it down
3 - Is edible but tastes really bad
4,5 - Is fine to eat
6 - Is not merely edible, but delicious and keeps well

Etcetera.

The key understanding is that you don't even have to assign numbers and degrees of success before rolling. Just mentally frame - or speak out loud - your question. Then you roll, say, a 2. All you have to do is think, what's the second-worst answer to the question?

Advanced versions:

  • Rarely, you'll have a question where the range of plausible outcomes are neutral with regard to the player characters. Just orient yourself on whatever axis you can find, and roll.
  • Sometimes there will clearly be more possible axes than 'good' or 'bad'. Something could pose a high or low threat but offer a high or low reward, for example. Just use several dice, associating one colour with one axis.
  • With a basic intuitive understanding of dice probabilities, you can determine the answers to questions about populations, off the cuff. Say you've randomly generated a group of 21 soldiers on the road. How many are in poor morale? Could really be any number of them: 1d20. How many are currently battle-ready? Probably most but not all of them: 1d8+10. How many are carrying bows? Let's guess it's likely to be about half: 2d10.



Monday, 18 September 2023

The hit point problem


...Or, what do HP actually represent (in traditional RPGs and their descendants)?


Dr Bret Devereaux's recent article on armour and RPGs, in talking about how armour actually works, reminded me about this argument. It's an argument that's older than the internet, an argument that's fundamentally pointless, an argument that's been rehashed thousands if not millions of times... so I thought I might as well get into it briefly.

Let's start here:

Hit points are a combination of actual physical constitution, skill at the avoidance of taking real physical damage, luck and/or magical or divine factors. [...] a near-miss, a slight wound, and a bit of luck used up, [...] more often than not a grazing blow, a mere light wound which would have been fatal (or nearly so) to a lesser mortal. If sufficient numbers of such wounds accrue to the character, however, stamina, skill, and luck will eventually run out, and an attack will strike home
- Gary Gygax, Dragon #24


It seems widely accepted, as well as being straight from the horse's mouth, that hit points are a mixture of a creature's capacity for and resilience against suffering injury ('meat points') and its chances, for various reasons, of avoiding serious injury in situations in which it might suffer serious injury ('grace points').

There's an implication that grace points are mostly 'used up' before meat points. And the obvious interpretation is that there's some (unspecified) ratio of grace to meat.

Unfortunately it's still impossible to arrive at a really self-consistent understanding of hit points in D&D-likes, whether you think HP is 0.1% meat and 99.9% grace, 99.9% meat and 0.1% grace, or anything in between.

HP must be almost entirely meat points, for the following reasons.

  • 1 damage to a 100-HP creature has to entail actual physical harm because it can come with 'riders' like injecting poison from a poison-tipped dart. If the dart didn't pierce the flesh 'on hit', it wouldn't have been able to convey the poison. At the other end of the spectrum, 100 damage is enough to kill the creature (or nearly so, depending on edition), so that too must be actual physical harm.
  • In trad games, higher Constitution improves HP (i.e., meat points). In comparison, Dexterity, Wisdom, and Intelligence (i.e., grace points) don't improve hit points at all, and neither do weapon/armour use skills and features (when they exist). If grace points made up a non-negligible proportion of hit points, having these attributes would affect HP total.
  • Numerous game effects, spells, items, and so on have descriptors that equate even potentially quite small amounts of HP recovery with descriptions of physical wounds closing. I would guess an outright majority of supernatural healing effects involve physical injury in their description, with most of the others being ambivalent or lacking description, and very few indeed talking about restoring anything that seems like grace points.
  • Plenty of damage in classic RPGs comes from sources that can't easily be mitigated (or can come from them in principle, for no special rules for when that happens). You character is stabbed while unconscious. Your character falls onto a field of spikes. Your character swims across an acid lake. Your character takes intermittent damage from rotting disease. The moisture is leached from your character's body by a horrid spell. In cases like these, half of the justification for 'grace points' can't be in play: the character isn't 'using skill to avoid harm', the damage isn't 'near-misses', and the character isn't just 'getting tired' or 'pushing their luck'. There are whole character archetypes unlikely to be protected by 'divine forces' or 'magical factors'.


Of course, it's also true that

HP has to be almost entirely grace points, for the following reasons.

  • When a 100-HP creature takes 99 damage, this doesn't seem to involve any actual physical harm: in classic games being down to 1 HP has no immediate in-game consequence on the creature (notable exception: D&D 4e's bloodied condition, and even then the effect isn't "a massive reduction in all of the wounded creature's physical capabilities" like you would expect). Per rules, the creature doesn't fall over or involuntarily scream or pass out from pain or anything. (And sure, the game rules are an abstraction, but the same RPGs will have other subsystems that are vastly more fine-grained than the idea that if you put a sword through someone, it has major traumatic effects.) There is never any indication that the GM is expected to improvise these consequences, either.
  • Martial characters get more hit points; they're the ones who are best able to avoid harm, because that is what all of their training is for. That harm avoidance is HP.
  • Characters gain hit points with level, at a rate that is vastly higher than remotely plausible variance in a person's actual ability to survive wounds. You could maybe convince me that some exceptional person could have twice as many 'meat points' as average. Three, four, five times? No way.
  • The same plausibility argument applies in general. A twelve-foot giant should weigh about 1500 lbs or 700 kg. If something like that swings an axe at you and it connects, the best you can hope for is that whatever gets lopped off is non-vital. Plenty of D&D-like games would model this attack hitting as something that can be slept off (depending on a damage roll, possibly). High-level characters might take dozens of such hits, depending on the game.


So we've immediately run into contradiction: some things in the game tell us that HP is almost all meat, and other things tell us that HP is almost all grace.


Side note

There's another reason we're unlikely to square the circle and find a self-consistent explanation in (most) HP-based games: Extreme injury.

Suppose 100 damage is just enough to kill some creature: It has 100 HP, or 90, or 90 and then flubs some rolls, or whatever. For this creature, 100 damage kills, so 99 damage is as close to a mortal wound as you can get. This amount of harm heals naturally, and perfectly, very fast, in almost every trad game I've ever seen. In modern editions, this near-mortal wound just goes away overnight! In contrast, I've personally had garden scratches that took a week to heal. Even in OD&D, the upper limit on healing is one month. That would be an optimistic timeframe for being discharged in a modern hospital after "a wound that very nearly killed you". That kind of wound would usually be the beginning of years of physical therapy, if not permanent disability.

COUNTERARGUMENT 1: We can concoct explanations for this, involving abstraction, and how much more survivable wounds are with modern medicine (or with fantasy magic), and how unfun it is to play out deadly infections or characters with degraded abilities, and how we don't want to require a player to play a character who's only definitely going to die rather than dead... sure. I've never heard one that's really comprehensive within the fiction, which is what I'm mostly concerned with.

COUNTERARGUMENT 2: Some games layer lingering injury frameworks, scar systems, etc, onto HP systems. This is fine, and sometimes works pretty well! I will note that in my experience they usually still don't go far enough to make for good simulation, and in particular these additional systems almost always still use a weird sped-up timeframe. I think they're also pretty rare on the whole, for traditional D&D-likes. I like em, though.

COUNTERARGUMENT 3: Some fantasy game worlds might be assumed to have low-level magical healing on tap everywhere, so a very slow trickle of hit points amounts to recovering your HP overnight (or 2d6/night or with one full day of bed rest or whatever). Sure, this works in principle. But I don't think many games come right out and say in their setting information that this is what's going on; it's hard to import into most worlds; it also precludes some genre features, like the existence of lingering injuries and old scars in the broad populace.




Finally, let's flip it around and consider actual practises at the table, where this matters. It's always been the case that certain rules get ignored or changed by swathes of gamers.

At the table, what GM ever describes a sword swing inflicting 10 damage as 'you nearly get hit' or 'they get a little tired jumping out of the way of the sword's arc' or 'fortunately for the ogre, your blade bounces off his belt buckle'? My impression is that this essentially never happens, in part because it makes a hit sound just like a miss, which is both confusing and a letdown.

What I do see, sometimes, is GMs being cautious and sometimes even vague about what is going on within the world – not really a sign that everything is as it should be in the game. They describe damage to enemies as flesh wounds (up until the moment it kills), and damage to characters as minor abrasions and bruises. They're careful not to imply any level of injury that would have actual game world impact (like impeding a creature's movement or making it leave a trail of blood) or later raise questions like 'you said I shattered his arm with that critical hit, how is he climbing the rope now?' or 'you said I was skewered by three arrows, how come I got better completely overnight?'

And likewise, I sometimes see GMs avoid describing the effects of magical healing as 'knitting together wounds', 'restoring all your blood', etc – and sometimes just not describe it at all – because that implies the character had been seriously wounded, and it somehow never feels like a character is badly wounded at the table, no matter how low their HP goes.

And in other cases, I see tables of players and GMs venture into absurdism, where HP loss is always a grisly wound described with relish; such wounds come and go entirely without any knock-on effects within the world, disappearing overnight.


Reconciliation


Is there a way around this without having to hack some extremely core game rules?

Solution 1: Embrace indeterminacy. Hit points don't really mean anything, and wounds are never described until the moment they are gone. If 50 lost hit points are immediately restored by a powerful healing spell then it may well have been a devastating wound (especially if the sufferer was 'dying' as per e.g. 5e rules), and the GM may feel free to describe it that way. But when a character suffers through an afternoon's adventure with 50 missing hit points and they get restored overnight, those ones were in retrospect obviously just a little fatigue (not enough to cause exhaustion), scratches and bruises (not enough to impede movement), and 'expended' luck or divine grace (whatever that means).

Solution 2: Play it straight. This fantasy world is different from our own because of its fantasy elements, and those fantasy elements officially include people's bodies operating utterly differently to how they do in our world. You can go from 'fifty-fifty chance of death' to 'top physical condition' overnight with no magical intervention because that's how it is in this universe. People of this world have no lingering injuries unless they were inflicted by one of the few extremely specific spells or powers that do that.

Solution 3: Beer and pretzels game. Just don't think about it.

Solution 4: It's meta. The game, in being played, produces a story of action in a heroic genre; all the bits of that story which don't make sense are because of (say) unreliable storytellers or other narrative tricks. At the moment it is happening at the table, nothing means anything; after the game, the resulting story is allowed to be inconsistent and impossible, because it's just a story. Yes, this undermines the very concept of roleplaying, so what?

Solution 5: It's stochastic. The lower a character's hit points – whether from injury or being fragile or low level – the more likely they are to die from the next attack. That's the only thing that 'HP' means. All attacks do little to no physical harm until the one that does: health and injury are a random walk on a line. More damaging attacks are both more likely to kill, and more likely to cause successive attacks to kill. And maimings, debilitating wounds, and true life-or-death situations cannot occur (presumably for one of the other four reasons above).

I don't think any of these solutions are very good. #1 is perhaps the most palatable, especially if it starts out hiding behind #3 as so seems more adequate once revealed.

Final thoughts

There's no good way to conclude because when it comes to 'what hit points mean' there's no conclusion to reach, no advice to give – hence the thousands or possibly millions of times something like this has been written or said before. These days I'm personally drawn to the idea of systems designed with something less abstract than hit points, as a way of making play experience more immersive, but, well, I think most players, most of the time, still like HP.

Tuesday, 15 August 2023

Internally consistent magical paradigms: A paean to good design

I talk a lot about verisimilitude in fantasy settings, both here and in real life (whenever a friend doesn't manage to escape). One thing I often think about is the metaphysical nature of magic, and the competing desires in fantasy TTRPGs to have player-graspable/predictable magic, mysterious/fantastic magic, and sensible/plausible world design.

I think it's both possible and desirable to have an internally consistent magical metaphysics ('thaumaphysics'?). By which I mean: a framework of magic that is based on inviolable rules (not necessarily complex ones) that are theoretically discoverable by people within the setting. At this point, some readers will clamour that I intend to "Conquer all mysteries by rule and line, / Empty the haunted air, and gnomed mine— / Unweave a rainbow", but my definition makes for a broader umbrella than you might think:

  • The kind of spellcasting where you learn secret words and gestures which affect reality can be internally consistent.
  • Magic where psychic phenomena are measurable in the universe, and spells are entities which occupy some analogue of physical space in your head, can be done with internal consistentency.
  • If every magical effect is always completely random, in the sense of 'drawn from an enormous table or procedurally generated', that's internally consistent as long as the methods of invoking magic are.
  • Magic that is fueled by spell points / mana / energy which the body recovers naturally over time can be internally consistent.
  • Some creatures being innately magical by their nature, and defined methods existing to borrow those beasts' power, is internally consistent.
  • If near-omnipotent gods are locked in conflict over the world, with factions and/or individual minor power variations, and all magic is that which they pass down, then with sufficiently delineated gods the magical framework is internally consistent.
  • High fantasy magic aligned along ideas like "magic always requires a sacrifice" or "magic comes with a commensurate cost which can only be delayed or passed on to others" can easily be internally consistent, being based on a few simple rules.
  • Frameworks where multiple types of magic and spellcasting co-exist (D&D-style) can be internally consistent.


What magic isn't internally consistent?

In most fairytales, magic is presented as something of a fait accompli. Sometimes there are rules based on the implied rules of storytelling, but not usually.

  • The tree can be cut down with a single chop by a princess's hair pressed into the edge of an axe made of wax, and this idea goes unexamined. It says nothing about whether the same axe can break through a stone wall, or whether a prince's hair would work, or if a regular axe with the hair glued on would still have done the job in one chop.
  • The wicked sorcerer tricks the king into agreeing to give up his firstborn child, but it's not clear whether the king follows through on this because of an ensorcelment, or because of the king's honest nature, or the king's fear of the sorcerer's unspecified magic.

Some TTRPG systems and settings aren't sufficiently well-described to have internally consistent magic. What Justin Alexander called 'dissociated mechanics' are sometimes an indicator that magic isn't internally consistent: characters, monsters, or environmental features might be able to do things or have in-game effects that "exist outside of the character’s world and they are only rough approximations of that world." They are insufficiently described in the rules for a player or GM to work out cohesive underlying principles (and use that knowledge to infer capabilities, make predictions, judge interactions and edge cases, etc).

Now, just because the metaphysics is insufficiently developed for the magic to be recognisably consistent doesn't mean the magic is inconsistent. But it does mean that the onus of filling in the gaps is on the GM, and usually the GM won't even think to try to do that ahead of time (which would require, at a minimum, reading and internalising all the official rulebooks and adventure scenarios of the TTRPG, and then coming up with something that is consistent - i.e., doing the rest of the game designer's job for them).

No, it will tend to only come up when some interaction in the game needs a ruling, and the GM has no (or too few) established 'first principles' of magic to fall back on. With every such ruling about the way the world is, the implied underlying rules of magic get squirrelier and squigglier, until it's nearly impossible to come up with an internally consistent framework. At some point, the GM makes a ruling which contradicts an earlier one or something else in the books, and all of a sudden magic is inconsistent.

(Those who went before warn those who go ahead; it's happened to me.)


Why care?

An absolutely fundamental aspect of a roleplaying game is that a player can get a measure of what is going on around them and make choices based on that. If you could boil down roleplaying to three words, "make reasonable choices" would be a decent first draft. That requires a character's surroundings to be (mostly) intelligible. As they travel, interact with things, look at stuff, learn and explore, 'a character's surroundings' expands to 'the observed world', and not just objects within it, but processes too. Simple logic has to work in the metaphysics, too, or it's impossible to do basic roleplaying.

If absolutely anything in the world can change at any time for any reason or no reason — if it's a world where things can stop being true, or retroactively not have been the case — then it's a world you can't roleplay in, let alone get invested in. You certainly can't identify character goals and plan to achieve them. In a world like that, when the GM asks "what do you do next?", the appropriate answer is "who cares?" and to start packing up your things.

If a game rule says that a spell of type X does Y, and another rule says that whenever a spell does Y it's [verb]able by any magical effect of type Z, then that tells the wizard's player something about how magic works. If there's a monster which accomplishes Y as an effect of its X spell, then the wizard's Z magic better bloody be able to [verb] it, and if not (because the game was poorly designed), the onus is on the GM to find a theoretical underpinning for that. They don't necessarily have to tell the player why not, but they do need to assure the player that there's a reason, and a theoretically discoverable one in-world.

If the GM has three options and they are 'sacrifice magical consistency to create this exception' or 'change an established rule of magic to support this monster design' or 'change this monster so it follows established rules of magic', they should understand those options to be terrible, mediocre, or necessary, respectively.

This is all such pain in the neck for the GM that a well-designed game goes out of its way to avoid it, by making its magic internally consistent and spelling out at least the more major of the rules on which it rests.


One particular example: Magical realism

Take the magic of artsy literature, 'magic realism'. Here's the kind of magic you would expect from that metaphysical framework:

The plants in your grandfather's garden all grow three metres tall and are well-stocked with flowers and berries. You have a photographs with you as a kid, overshadowed by them fivefold. You move for college, then for work, and when you come back to visit fifteen years later the plants are all in the same places you remember, as vivid as ever, but they only reach to your knee.

A knight in shining armour loses her child; her sword and armour break into splinters, leaving her able to be harmed by the worst of the world and unable to lead the charge against it. After a long period of character growth and psychological healing, an ogre appears on the horizon and, looking about for her sword and armour for the first time in a long time, finds them to be intact once more.

A stressed businessman goes home tired every night and must then spend hours shoveling food into the dragon's head that grows out of his bedroom wall, tongue lolling over his bed. He is completely exhausted by this and then has to sleep on the floor because his bed is taken up by the horrid mass. One day he sees an advertisement to work at a charity. He applies, gets it, and quits his former job, then goes home and finds the dragon's head has turned into the softest blanket in the world. He gets the best night's sleep he's ever had.

Despite its seemingly vague nature, magical realism can be made an internally consistent framework, by creating rules like:

  • The world is divided into important characters and background characters by some criterion
  • When an important character experiences a powerful or persistent emotion, their surroundings change to elicit that emotion in a hypothetical viewer
  • The challenges an important character faces in their daily life give rise to the introduction of new fantastic objects into their surroundings representing those challenges
  • When an important character develops as a person or solves a major problem, they undergo a corresponding symbolic transformation in their material possessions, environment, or body
  • Any politically, economically, militarily, socially, (etc) powerful person, if they are a background character, has an appearance or key trait that is fantastic or phantasmagorical, and allegorical to the nature of their power


Not all internally consistent magical paradigms are equal (when it comes to TTRPGs)

Magic realism can be made internally consistent. But it still doesn't work in a TTRPG because of the interactive nature of the medium.

Readers can enjoy magic realism because they can, in the worst case, write to the author to say "when Jorris had his nightmare he should have woken up to find all the curtains in his room had turned into red-hot serpents, why didn't you turn them into red-hot serpents you hack". Most won't bother.

Players in a TTRPG tradition can't enjoy magic realism because not only are they able to say things like that to the game master, but they should. By  which I mean it's in their best interests to engage directly with, and explore, the magic system — as we've covered, magic is a useful technology and players would be idiots not to try to make use of it. It's not an 'exploit', it's the human condition.

A TTRPG world based on magical realism would be one of constant argument, or one where magic is proudly (unpleasantly) inconsistent, or one where the players have the (unpleasant) false belief that magic isn't internally consistent.

Other magical paradigms have other problems for TTRPG usage.

  • Classic high fantasy magic in the vein of Lord of the Rings is typically too subtle for PC spellcasting. Also, the source media usually tries to hide its more detailed rules, if not its broad-stroke ones, in a way that's incompatible with a player wanting to know how many orcs their Concussive Wave is likely to knock down and how often they can cast it.
  • If magic is (very nearly) random, drawn from huge tables or procedures, a spellcaster can't reliably do much other than cause a distraction, and (given the nature of many magical effects) can't do that safely.
  • If magic is all in the hands of powerful entities, and people can use it to the extent that they can convince an entity to grant it, then you have too much 'roleplaying' and not enough 'game'. At the very least, you need additional game structures preventing degenerate conditions where the players talk to too many entities or win them over too completely. Along the way you need to solve the old dichotomy of player skill (at persuasion, in this case) versus character skill.
  • If magic comes entirely from objects and materials, then the game must be very precisely designed to preclude too strong of a positive feedback loop whereby getting your hands on too much treasure lets you acquire too much magic which lets you seize more treasure which lets you acquire more magic which [...]

Considerations like these act as design constraints on fantasy TTRPG elements.


Design tensions in fantasy TTRPGs

I quoted Keats' Lamia above to set up a juxtaposition.

Yes, I think it's best that magic be discoverable, explicable, rules-based, and consistent.

No, I don't think that magic should be all discovered by NPCs in the setting, that it should be explained to the players, that its rules should be in a player-facing rulebook, or that its applications must all be obvious outcomes of a single consistent pattern.

Magic should be internally consistent (a) as a matter of elegance, (b) so the GM doesn't have to do a ton of extra work to avoid making bad rulings, (c) so that the world has verisimilitude, (d) as evidence that the designers knew what they were doing, and (e) so players can adequately roleplay in a world where they will interact with magic.

But the players shouldn't be sat down with a complete overview of the exact details of magical metaphysics and all the implications, any more than a fantasy book should open with a dry five-page essay on underlying rules and cosmology.

Graspable, yet mysterious. Sensible, yet compelling. Consistent, yet fantastic.

Sunday, 6 August 2023

Steps to a Hero (end of the campaign)

Do you want fantasy characters who have deep ties to their world? Backstory that directly affects mechanical traits? A fun, fast, unique character creation minigame?

We're down to the last 24 hours of the Kickstarter campaign for Steps To A Hero. It's the 125+ page book implementing a lifepath character generation system designed for compatibility with D&D 5e!

Thanks to everyone who's already supported the project!

Book preview pages


What's a lifepath?

A lifepath is a unique tool for producing a roleplaying game character, beginning them early in life and setting them down a path to become the person that the player will begin the game with. It tells a story about how a character came about, replacing the common process of generating race, background, ability scores, and other traits.

A lifepath is a process of discovery, and each step on the path is an event, decision, or encounter which will reveal things about your character – generating both backstory and game-mechanical traits as you go. Everything in the book is streamlined for 5e, overriding or complementing parts of the base game.



What's in the book?

In Steps to a Hero, you’ll find

  • Everything you need to develop characters with lifepaths for fifth-edition fantasy roleplaying
  • 300 unique lifepath 'steps', each one combining a piece of weird/medieval fantasy short fiction and corresponding character traits
  • A comprehensive set of rules describing the lifepath process, plus optional rules for tweaking character generation
  • A ton of 5e game content including hundreds of new background features, and methods to make many millions of possible stories and backgrounds
  • Support for 12 ancestries, including all the classics, plus half-djinni, half-minotaur, half-dryad, and shorewalker
Discover the remarkable story of each character’s early life, and determine how those experiences gave them the unique abilities and traits in their background.
 
A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. Venture forth!

Fantasy Fantasy League

  I've just released the full version of Fantasy Sports Fantasy League for pay-what-you-want! It’s more or less a TTRPG, but not like ...