Something, Something, Something - Thank You, Everyone, For 3000 Followers!

Something, Something, Something - Thank you, everyone, for 3000 followers!

It is quite the milestone for me, especially as this is now part of my weekly routine and I do, personally, appreciate the effort I put into this blog being rewarded (even if it is just numbers on the internet.). And, because I feel like it, I shall begin to start posting more often with more variety in my work. Sure, i’ll continue the Sunday Respites, but i’ll put some concepts to test and see if I can increase the content output somewhat over the next few months. Once again, cheers and pleasantries, all around!

Pixie x

Building Character - That One Low Ability Score ...

Let’s start by establishing the setting around this topic of discussion. 

I dislike the phrase ‘Mary Sue’ when used as a critique of fictional characters.

For those of you who are unaware, ‘Mary Sue’ is a punchy, dismissive insult handed to writers who create characters without an obvious flaw by critics. It is a sentiment that has deeper bias within western literature and fiction. An audience often will turn against these examples of ‘perfection’ if there is not some horrific secret that serves to justify it. This is best explored in Ursula Le Guin’s ‘The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas’, although other contemporary examples in culture include WWE wrestler Roman Reigns, DC Comics’ Superman, and the Paladin class in D&D.

Personally, I swerve to avoid this cliche through personal preferences but I am not afront to it by nature. I do, however, deeply dislike the back-handed superiority that arises from those who hold onto it like a trap for writers to fall into and often as a tool to justify their cruelty.

With my players at my games, I do use random ability score generation for D&D and Pathfinder. This means that players bring a broad spectrum of statistics to the table to avoid saturation of play styles. For every character with above-average scores in everything there is one or two who are genuinely talented in one field of expertise, and yet clueless in another. A fighter whose back just cannot carry the weight it once could, but his aim with a bow is near impeccable. A lowly thief who knows every alley, street, corner, and rooftop from the eastern suburbs to the western docks but has his words jam up in his mouth when he needs them most. It often has every player treating their characters with a parental adoration despite all their differences ...

... and that is just what they are; differences. 

Not crippling detriments, but things to hold onto, things to remind you of who you are and why you fight. They are not weaknesses, but a piece of you - a piece to shape as you see fit and turn into a weapon of irresistible force. You take the flaws that the world gave and you turn them around and back onto it.

You are a hero - a word undefinable through colour, creed, or capability, only through heart.

How to play with a ‘dump stat’? (Players and Game Masters)

One of the players in my current Pathfinder RP is a Dwarf Ranger, one I have mentioned before in a previous post. He is a dependable sort, has his own prejudices and habits, but is one hell of a fine shot with his new heavy crossbow. There is only one issue - his strength score is 3. Three. 

A few things should be made of note to contextualise the significance of this fact;

  - The standard average for an ability score is 10 or 11

  - 3 also happens to be the same strength score of an everyday house cat or owl

  - He cannot physically carry any weight beyond that of his crossbow and simple clothing

When he first rolled those four ones (4d6 and drop the low, yada-yada ...) I sharply inhaled through my teeth and tilted my heard with a timid “well.” But Joe? Joe was grimacing in fascination - it was all he could have wanted. 

How did we work around this? We didn’t. The tools were already there.

Usually, an over-encumbered character cannot move if over a certain weight capacity, as calculated by their strength. Unless you are a Dwarf. Dwarves ain’t too fast, but good luck slowing one down - even a frail one. We also had a crisis in imagery, as I continually mistook Joe’s Ranger for a stereotypical Dwarf - one you’d see in the Core Rulebook or fan art with broad, well-haired forearms and a wide, barrel chest. In reality, this Dwarf has lithe, small, and not all too durable at all. This means that he will always want to stay at the rear of combat and use his better talent for marksmanship in place of close-quarters.

What I was vigourously encouraged to see was how the party accustomed to this like a family. The Cavalier and the Barbarian opted to help carry his miscellaneous gear on their shoulders in stead, the party always left someone within reaching distance of him in case enemy ranks closed ground into melee, and the party began to strategise their engagements with a constant awareness of how the Dwarf would want to best make his shots, clear of obstacles.

The party were not only aware of their Ranger’s limitations, but changed their entire approach in battle to best utilise what he was undeniably the best at. They even chose to take on more responsibilities and penalties so he was not impeded by something he would not be able to cope with if left alone.

This low strength score also inspired him to choose his Ranger's animal companion to be a strong shire horse named ‘Brak’ (Dwarven for ‘Fool’). Brak is a tough, reliable brute of a horse. Incredibly friendly, loyal to a fault, but thick as a brick shit-house. The Ranger treats his companion with care and consideration, taking time to explain instructions, and never demanding more than could be reasonably asked for, much the same treatment that his party offered himself when he was first rescued in the mountains. The cycle of compassion continued despite everyone being a misfit and outcast. 

Don’t be afraid to ask for help with your struggles - in life and game - because, more often than you think, you are worth it.

Enjoy the game, you beautiful people.

Pixie x

21/10/2017

hello!! im gonna dm a game w some of my friends soon for the first time and i dont rlly kno what to do,,, i kno where the basic setting is gonna b and what the like,,, Plot Skeleton is but otherwise im stuck on things like adventures and quests for them to do and the storyline and how to rlly play everything out as a dm and all,, i was wondering if u had any tips or smth for trying to figure this stuff out?

Hello to you as well!

Right, let’s get down to business; getting you ready to run a kick-ass quest , and getting yourself and your players entertained and having fun.

Firstly, if this is going to be your first time as a DM and your friend’s first time playing, everything is going to be weird. Good-weird. I know everybody hopes for a greyhound-esque start on the road to perfection without a single failure. The reality of your pace will be more comparable to that stereotypical movie-nerd who drops his math papers across the floor at high school and spends the next few minutes scrabbling to collect them as the other kids kick them around in glee. Except the kids are your players, and your papers are your game plans.

I’d honestly recommend starting with skeletons. They’re cool. They’re mean. They squish good. Players like squishing skeletons.

Introduce your setting as flamboyantly and OTT as you want and then immediately drop the characters into a quest. The characters already know eachother, they’re already friends, and adventuring is their job. No need to over-complicate things Now this ‘drop’ has to be as hardcore and tone-setting as you want. I’m guessing your players are expecting a LotR style of heroism and bravery, so give that to them. Offer a clear hero-esque thing to do and send them on their way in a “have fun raiding the castle” way.

My personal favourite atm is a kidnapped grandma whose grandchild asks for help.

Only she’s been kidnapped by “people, but without faces, or skin, or anything, really”. Make every NPC scared out of their mind so the players feel badass for being the big damn heroes, because they are. Just make sure they know where they’re going and what they're doing so they don’t get confused (trust me, as confused as you think you are as a DM, the players are at least 4x as lost unless you help a little every now and then).

I’m fairly sure that you can put together a good old-fashioned crypt or tomb or dungeon, because you’re smart like that. Use your think-lump and draw out a couple of rooms with skeletal minions (maybe one of the minions is a skeleton wizard with a spike-pit in the centre - mix it up!), and then a boss-fight; a skeletal knight atop a zombified bull (my first thought was zombie dinosaur tbh, but you do you.) 

Something you could do is have the skeletal fighter point at one of the players as if it recognises them and have it say something mysterious and foreboding-y like “I recognise any daughter/son of the King! My blade shall taste royal blood once more!” (up to you, not necessary)

Make sure that you and your players get to have a rough idea as to how combat works, don’t be feeling as though you have to hide things from your players. Things like monster HP, Armour Class, or initiative orders. It will help them understand how things work with the dice and numbers without feeling as though the DM is denying them important information.

And then, once the skeletal knight is dead, give the players a couple of cool magical items from the skeleton (flaming sword and a helmet that grants the ability to see in the dark, or something), and have the old lady reward them well with some money and some cookies or something (not everything has to be serious).

This should all-in-all take about 2-4 hours and should be simple enough for you to feel confident in your DMing. Ask your players afterwards for their opinion and what they liked and if they are interested in continuing. Chances are, they’ll be raring for more and had some real fun.

I could wish for good fortune, but wishing is for genies and petty gods. No, I demand good fortune for you, noble Anon. And make sure to keep me updated afterwards!

Pixie x

Sunday Respite - Warlock Stock, ( - and Two Smoking Barrels)

Power is not ... easy, I suppose it’d be fair to say. Upon the great, open battlefield of the everyday politics of life and living, there is no equal ground. A thousand-dozen variables add and subtract from whether today will be the one you turn upon those closest to you, or they do the same in a preemptive retaliation against your betrayal.

The same unwritten laws of life apply to the arcane and all strength beyond the confines of flesh and dirt. Some spend their days learning at the words of the generations who have passed before, taking their texts and adapting for the betterment of themselves. Others find fire burning at their fingertips; a great, roaring flame thundering within their chest - a birthright gifted by godlings like an ushering hand to a pawn. There are the rare few, however, who have neither pathway to follow, and instead sacrifice all that is sacred and pure in pursuit of such raw, unending power.

Warlocks are fantastic characters in a gruesome world, breeding with the verminous infections of consequences and the ill-thought actions that spawned them. The embodiment of risk - a lost soul, down to the skin on their back and not a scrap more, offering the only thing of value they have left; themselves. Oh, what dominoes can fall from this most devilish of butterfly effects - the chains that will be linked, the echoes that will be felt through all of history. Only a fool would think that a deal with the less-than-divine would end with a mere handshake. Those pacts have thorns in their words - you will feel their sting.

Here are five profane, impractical, purposefully unprofessional practices of post-perchance pacts in painful places with potent persons of ill-repute. Have fun!

Ald’s Fingerprint

Cavos has the eyes of a man who forgot a certain something with no hope of its return. He watches the celebrations and revelry of his companions with a halfway look of happiness - a dreary somewhere between bittersweet and dry as salt. His reclusive nature is a persistent drain upon the comradery of anyone close enough to notice, as few as they are. He constantly sits behind the front lines of any confrontation - whether that be between the clash of foe and friend or the cheery clink of ale mugs by firelight. His hand sits at his stomach, scratching at the skin under his woolen robes and padded coat, but the itch never disappears, or it never existed. His hand, if witnessed fleetingly out of eye-corners or in double-takes, always seeks to go further up the chest, up to the heart, but retreats like the discouraged dog, whimpering back to his master’s knee when spooked in the dark. Noone besides Cavos knows why, with exception for Ald - the thing that gave him that itch. Old Ald, the world-singer, is a magician of sorts. He turns one thing into another with adept aplomb matched only by the artisans of old. You will not find his creations at the roadside or storefront, however. No, his performances are always set at a heavy price. Cavos can weave colour and fire through the air without a thought or fear of failure, but his mind always returns to that infernal signature of Ald’s interference - that infernal mark that he will never escape. Cavos has a hole through his chest, out to the other side, right where his heart once was; Ald’s pound of flesh; an ever-present reminder as to just who holds the strings of his life.

Coal-Smoke Cloak

This squared length of material is a boiling stretch of black mists that dusts every surface touched with a light sprinkling of ebony powder - light as flour. It can be worn around the neck as easily as any other garment of more mundane manufacture, but only they who have earned it can wear it without breathlessly choking back the smog around their face. The cloak hates unknown peoples without exception. The wearer leaves a trail of wisps behind as they move that swiftly trails off into the air, dissipating into nothingness. Upon command, the wearer can issue forth a plume of smoke that envelops everything around in the same choking murk that it would excrete if worn by an unfamiliar, with similar effects. Those who die within the smoke, skin as lavender with the bulls-eyed expression of a terrible death, are claimed by the weaver of the cloak in the afterlife. It is said, that for every soul that they receive, another cloak is woven for another killer in another world.

Bloodhound’s Collar

A black leather strip - narrow as a finger, strong as bone - is strapped around the unfortunate prisoner’s neck. The skin above and below is reddened and raw. He complains without word, his eyes wrought with the pain and torture of something too tight to bear. His eyes prick at you as you pass, stabbing at your sanity with an arrow-head precision, but his face is flat, sagging at the jowls and eye sockets despite his youth. The collar cannot be removed, at least, not though knife or shear or scissor or flame - and he has begged for and received all, to no avail. Their is no buckle to undo and loosen or knot to snip. The leather is seamless all around. Just how it was applied is a mystery. Still, the prisoner is a criminal and a killer. You do not kill in this county without punishment from the Countess’ regiment. Whenever you speak of his punishment to come, he laughs off into the distance, eyes scanning the crest of the horizon longingly. He passes the threats away like childish banter. He only fears what stalks him at night. He screams under the moon about the beast that worms amongst the cages, the heat of its diseased breath rusting iron and putting plague upon the asleep. You cannot beat the screams out of him and he persists to wail through the night. And so now you gag him. Still, despite the silence, he looks to you like he knows the true face of his death, and it’s name - although he hasn’t blessed you with its mention, but you suspect from the tremor of his eyes that he does. The hazel portals into his head say more than his words could ever do. They have that damned confidence to them. A confidence that says to you that he could escape this cage; this prison; these guards. But, no matter how hard and long he tries, he cannot escape the collar, and he can never escape the beast.

The Bird Cage

Haley has her head in a bird cage hanging at her hip. It’s unusual, and she understands that. The sight of a woman who should, by all mortal comprehensions of vitality, be a twitching lump on ground, instead, walking about the roads in full health, is one to provoke more questions than answers. Her only comments on the matter is that it makes braiding her hair a less cumbersome task, and that it makes conversations difficult for the other side of it. Often she will be talking to an employer - their face taught with the strain of forced politeness - and her body will walk off to the bar to order drinks for the pair, leaving the head to negotiate. According to her brother, who refuses to interfere with the adventurer’s life, she found herself like this after winning a bet against a lesser demon when she was a teenager. They were to play a game of dice. If she won, the demon would grant her magical powers and prowess unlike that of clerics of conjurers. If she lost, the demon would have her head - he was terribly literal. The head was taken before the game as a deposit of sorts, severed by an all-but-lethal blade swing. She won the game of dice- just how, she and her brother either refuse to say or do not truly know. Either way, she cannot remove her head from its wicker cage. She is a regular patron at the local bakery, and has saved several villager’s lives over the years from disaster and demon alike - she considers it her specialty.

The Lonely Oak

The grassy plains of the eastern lowlands are wide and barren. Soft, waving fields of green roll with the winds that drive effortlessly inwards from the coast. There are no towns, no roads, and certainly no laws to adhere to under fear of retribution ... except one. You do not approach the Lonely Oak. At the very deepest, most central point from any forest or wall, there is a single, enormous oak, the size of a cathedral. It is sprawling and vast with eons of unkempt growth. The trunk is as wide as a lake, and its millions of leaves rattle like the nighttime cries of a thousand silken cicadas, softly singing into the dusk, The earth for miles around is buckled from underneath by the powerful roots that have eaten through the soil and rock for centuries. This peaceful titan of iron-hide bark and towering branches is a silent silhouette on the horizon, and so it shall stay, for none dare to near its looming visage for even a step off of the beaten track. The Oak has a guardian; a wicked soul of covetous cruelty, hell-bent on defending the sovereignty of the Oak with every breath she can muster and spell she can cast. Over the endless years, she must have killed hundreds of refugees and travelers who do not know of her legend. Her ferocity is so feared that armies curve their warpath around the Oak’s border like a child through the shadows around the slumbering bear. This guardian speaks to the Lonely Oak and remains as a servant of its will until either she or her master is slain. Her powers, with which she can turn kingdoms back to their monarchs, are an ancient trade from the tree. His only price was undying loyalty. Whether she lives in harmony, or is desperately vying for release, is unknown. All that is certain is that, no matter who she was or wanted or wished, she accepted the offer.

Enjoy

Pixie x

17/07/17

So I'm the completely inexperienced DM for a D&D group and I have no clue what to do. Any advice? Thanks!

I’d be glad to help.

I’d like to start off with a simple story, one of when I was thirteen years old and in a similar position at the table as yourself - the DM’s seat. My first game was some of the most bare-bones, brik-a-brak, Bizarro-land D&D you can imagine. I had a sprawling, nonsensical, maze-like dungeon map scrawled out onto the back page of my mathematics book in pencil crayon. We used a printed out PDF version of some outdated rules set that I don’t even believe was anything close to genuine. We didn’t have any dice beyond the ones scrounged from board game boxes like monopoly and snakes and ladders, so I made my own out of cardboard and sellotape. Without any d20s, I decided that we were instead going to use two d6s and two d4s, as 6+4+6+4 equaled 20. Our mini figures were bottle caps and pennies, and the dungeon tiles were inch-square tiles cut from cereal boxes that I had been preparing for weeks.

Despite all of this disastrous preparation, I cannot remember anything poorly about it. I only know that it somehow worked and I stuck with it. I improved - exponentially so. And so will you.

Like anything in life that takes time and commitment, you can only be patient. Even now I recognise the failings of my games. I can still see the bottle cap mini-figures and raggedy dice equivalents in my story and narrative - concepts that I would never have even been close to comprehending had they been introduced to me at the beginning.

Therefore, i’d wish you the best of fortune for your game, but I think we both know that you’d settle for a solid 6/10 on your first-try. So let’s discuss how we can reach that golden standard.

Think small

Start at level 1, introduce a very understandable setting, and don’t feel as if you have to try anything you aren’t comfortable with just because other DMs have done it. Maybe bandits have kidnapped the local mayor’s child, maybe the church has accidentally uncovered a hidden catacomb entrance in the graveyard, maybe a nearby cave needs clearing out by a shepherd?

These low-power, tactile plot-hooks are great for first-time players and veterans alike. Now you have a framework, it is time to assess your options.

Variety

Let’s go with the bandit kidnapping example for this, although feel free to try whatever you want and change the details as you see fit. Nobody, not even you, wants every conflict within the bandit dungeon hideout to be a square room with 3 bandits. It will get repetitive. An incredibly easy way to address this is to mix things up. Maybe one room is partially flooded and a makeshift walkway is how you get from one side to the other, maybe the bandits have a room with a cage full of pet ... ostriches, or boars, or fishmen, who they will release if attacked, maybe the entrance has a single, absent-minded guard sitting on his lonesome, only he has a large, brass gong beside him as an alarm? It doesn’t matter if it doesn’t make perfect sense; it’s D&D, we gave up on cohesion when we sat down at the table in the first place.

The Catch

Introduce an element to the adventure that inspires urgency in the players, that’ll disencourage them from dallying about. Maybe the mayor will refuse to pay them if the do not complete the job in a week, maybe the mayor has learned that the bandits will sell the victim off to slavers or another rival baron if they do not hurry, maybe the victim has a wedding in a week’s time that they simply must be rescued for? Choose one, stick with it, make it important, be careful to make it fair - not too generous, not too harsh. 1 hour is too harsh, 1 month may be too generous.

The Twist

Go full M. Night Shamalamading-dong on their asses. Throw something totally unexpected in there that you will do next session, right at the end. Maybe the child is working for the bandit king as is planning to betray their father and must be convinced otherwise, maybe the cave enters onto an underground smuggler’s city and the child is lost somewhere within the hive of scum and villainy, maybe the bandits all work for a necromancer who teleports away with the child as the players arrive to free him, leaving his evil, undead minions to fight on his behalf? Just make sure to give the players something to follow - like a clue - so that they know what they have to do next. Because when the players are excited to continue, you have done your job, good sir.

Finally,

Here are some YouTube channels who I’d highly recommend you watch, since their content has inspired me on countless occasions.

Drunkens & Dragons - This guy is crazy entertaining, crazy talented, and just plain crazy. He is very good for ideas and mechanics to make your game awesome and cool, and doesn’t go so deep into complex topics that an amateur will become intimidated.

Matthew Colville - A fantastically enthralling listen awaits you on the other side of this hyperlink. He is entertaining, interesting, and answers a lot of big, broad questions you may have about more vague and itty-bitty game things.

How to be a Great Game Master - This channel tackles some of the more troublesome issues that you may get worried about, specifically problems that you may feel guilty for as a DM. He handles both sides of more controversial issues in a reasonable, well-adjusted manner.

I trust you’ll do fantastically.

Pixie x

Sunday Respite - A Paradigm Paradise of Prime, Paladin Pickings

Mood right now: we just watched Die Hard 2 as a house after I ran a game of Darkest Dungeon inspired Pathfinder for six hours without a food break. I am simultaneously pumped, low on blood sugar, and can feel that itching energy at my fingertips, begging me to write on the old blog.

So why not, it’s a good day, right?

Paladins. They are a mechanical divining rod for finding your problem players. In the hands of a well-adjusted and mature person, the Paladin is a loyal friend, honourable above all else, devoted to good but wanting to follow the rules so as to best avoid damnation and undue cruelty. In very, very wrong hands they become a vigilant horror-show of discrimination, pride, and violent misconduct. The phrase ‘it’s what my character would do’ never sounded so haunting when the supposed warrior of light and truth does something only fit for darkness, where no eyes may witness it’s grotesque visage.

Let us keep these beastly implements of justice and forgiveness out of the hands of those who do not deserve them, and instead place them within a more deserving possession. Keep your armour strapped, shield raised, and sword drawn; it’s going to be a long, dark night of heavy wind, but, together, we will see the morning sun once more, and feel its healing kiss.

Saint Olivia’s Bloodied Chain

It is not a pleasant sight. Positively ghastly, in fact. It is a brigadine vest of white leather over a suit of chainmail, covering the skin from knuckle, to neck, and down to the knees. The metal is rusted and torn in places, punctured arrowhead holes dot its brutalised form like pox scars. It is heavy, uncomfortable, and loose links grind and pierce through clothing underneath and into the skin. When an inevitable strike pushes past the armour and into flesh, the blood from the wound will coarse over the rusted chains and leave behind a shining glamour of polished silver in its wake. The wounded person can look upon a fellow ally who has also suffered wounds and choose for them to recover their vitality and strength as recompense for the spilled blood. The scars upon their flesh begins stitching over with a painless warmth from within, resetting their confidence as solidly as stone.

Gauntlet of the Viper’s Justice

These gauntlets are made of curved steel plates, edged with a brass rim. The knuckles and fingers are each armoured with interlocking pieces of metal, all fitted over a shining leather glove of green. If someone is suffering from poison or venom, from the fangs of beast or blade of man, then the wearer of these gloves may place their palm upon the victim’s chest. This will draw the poison out of their blood and into the very fibre of the armament. For a full day, the wearer can choose one creature that they cause harm to suffer as if afflicted by the same toxin they removed earlier.

Sun Torch

This a standard torch of uninteresting construction. A wooden haft topped with a head of wrapped cloth for igniting. Someone picking up this torch, however, will feel a comforting warmth upon their palm as if they were out in broad, open sunlight. If the torch is lit, the resulting flame will be as bright and pure as if the sun had bloomed into being before them. The light will scare away the undead scourge, discourage the denizens of the hells, and remind the world that the sun will rise and that all evil should hide from it’s glorious flame.

Faith-Breaker

This crossbow can end empires with a notch, draw, and inspired release. When the crank is pulled, ready to fire, a single, narrow shaft of white light appears in place of a bolt, ready to shoot forth. Bolts raining drown from the snapping string of this divine weapon of valour cause no wounds and incite no pain. Instead, the landing attacks will explode into streams of liquid radiance, spilling across the skin and armour as if the blood of the angels were leaking out. The target realises in an instant that all of their magical resistances and immunities against tirade of steel and the arcane alike are as useful as a prayer in hell, or - more appropriately - a curse in heaven.

Godspeed Amulet

This necklace is often a simple charm of notched wood or bone. They arise, randomly, when such jewelry is made with a sincerity and trust beyond mere professional talent. Wedding gifts, inherited heirlooms, good-fortune charms. All may well hum with the strength of the Godspeed if you are fortunate enough. When someone wearing a Godspeed Amulet is present to witness a loving ally and true friend suffer a killing blow - one to put them down without a shadow of survival - then they know a primal and pure call for action like none they have ever felt before. A burning passion for interference beyond what their body can muster, yet the inexplicable power to do so. In the instant before the attack strikes flesh, the wearer can swap place with the subject of their love and take the blow, shattering the amulet into ash in the process. The ally recovers from their existing wounds in less than a passing second, skin sealing shut, bones unbreaking, and hope reignited. Few will ever feel the blessed touch of Godspeed, but those that do know that they have a true friend of no equal - one willing to lay the world asunder to protect and defend their beloved kin.

Enjoy

Pixie x

30/10/17