Frank Mentzer--coming to a Con near me

As a member of the Bostongamers.com Yahoo group, which caters to Boston-area roleplaying game enthusiasts, I receive a stream of regular messages in my inbox about area RPG games, news, and conventions. I ignore most of these messages because my gaming needs are already met, and because I view RPG conventions with a skeptical eye. The entirety of my convention experience consists of a single con--Total Confusion, which I attended way back in 1993 or thereabouts. I found the experience to be wildly uneven: The few RPG sessions I sat in on were crowded, disorganized, and largely un-fun, but I did have a blast playing a couple wargames. Overall though I had no urge to return to another con any time soon.

But a recent message from Bostongamers grabbed my eye and is causing me to consider lifting my 15-year self-imposed convention ban. Open Gaming Convention (OGC) in Nashua, NH--a short 30 or so minute ride from my doorstep--is hosting Frank Mentzer as its special guest. The convention runs from July 25-27.

That's right, D&D fans--the Frank Mentzer who authored the famous "BECMI" Dungeons and Dragons boxed sets, will be appearing at OGC. Published during 1983-86, Mentzer's legendary Basic, Expert, Companion, Masters, and Immortal sets took you from first level wimpdom all the way up to 36th level epic hero status and beyond, into the glorified air of god-hood. Although I never had a legitimate character attain Immortal or even Master's level status, I have a lot of very good memories of playing with those old box sets during my youth and teenage years (we played a D&D hybrid in those days, throwing together the AD&D and D&D rules in a mongrel but incredibly fun mix).

In fact, I still have those box sets on my shelf today, and turn to them from time to time for inspiration. Mentzer also wrote a number of other D&D modules, including a co-writing credit on the legendary The Temple of Elemental Evil (pictured here) with the master himself, Gary Gygax.

Part of me now wants to attend OGC just to shake the hand of the man who brought me so much joy all those years ago. Although Frank is still relatively young and as far as I know in the best of health, I can't help but think of Gygax's recent passing, which drove home the point that we should give thanks to the visionaries and creators of our favorite hobbies now, rather than look back with regret when the chance has passed. Besides, a Mentzer autograph would look quite nice on the inside flap of my own treasured copy of the The Temple...

Tomb of Horrors: A D&D classic, or an unplayable deathtrap?

The iron men of visage grim do more than
meets the viewers eye
You've left and left and found my Tomb
and now your soul will die.

It's the module whose name sends chills down the spine of any serious D&D player. Chock full of spiked pits and other assorted death traps, dead-ends and false finishes, and a final encounter against a nearly invulnerable creature that can kill a PC every round, it's notorious as a character-destroying meat grinder, and the epitome of old school D&D. Those who (claim) to have played and survived it wear their experience like a Purple Heart.

I'm writing of course about S1: The Tomb of Horrors, as penned by the late, great Gary Gygax. What I'd like to know is whether anyone has ever legitimately played through this module and lived. I just don't see how it's possible.

My own experience with this module is non-existent. In the interest of full disclosure I've never played or DM'd the Tomb, and for most of my life I didn't even own a copy. But the information I gleaned about it online over the years simultaneously intrigued and scared the crap out of me. I knew I had to eventually get my own copy.

A couple years ago I had the fortune to find and purchase a used copy of the legendary S1 at a local gamestore. My reaction upon reading it was: Holy Shit, you can never play this, straight up and legit, make it through the tomb, and come out alive. By legit I mean playing without any foreknowledge of the killer, no saving throw, instant death traps that litter the tomb of the demi-lich. That's very hard to do nowadays: It seems like everyone at least has a passing familarity with the module, due to the internet and the fact it's been around for 30 years.

S1 strikes me as the ultimate stand-alone scenario. Even though Gygax placed it in the World of Greyhawk and provided a backstory, The Tomb of Horrors really cannot be part of any long-running campaign. Unless your players are the type who don't mind watching their carefully-crafted 13th level fighter--built up through years of hard-fighting and treasure gathering in memorable campaigns--slid into a molten lava pit to die screaming with no save, they're probably going to end up angry. In the Tomb you can be sucked into Acererak's eye (annihilated with no save), crushed flat beneath the roller of a massive stone juggnernaut (death, no save), turned into green slime (no save!), and generally snuffed out of existence in a million other ways.

This leads me to believe that S1 is not intended as a serious module, but rather a strange and amusing artifact to be read and put back on the shelf. Or perhaps it was written as a means to punish cocky players.

Despite its propensity for killing PCs, I do think The Tomb of Horrors has plenty of merit and deserves a place of honor in any serious D&D player's collection. The reasons include:

It's amazingly well-written and illustrated. It oozes flavor. Gygax was on top of his game here. Here's a good example:

The mists are silvery and shot through with delicate streamers of golden color. Vision extends only 6'. There is a dim aura of good if detected for. Those who step into the mist must save versus poison or become idiots until they can breathe the clean air above ground under the warm sun.

In addition, the Tomb of Horrors comes with a beautiful 20-page illustration booklet, containing 32 illustrations showing various features of the Tomb. If you're a fan of old-school art this alone is worth the purchase.

It's a marvel of economy. Outside of the illustration booklet the module itself is a dense, compact 12 pages, which includes pre-rolled PCs! Pretty amazing.

It's hard-core and the essence of old-school. Gygax writes at the outset what could be a treatise of old-school gaming. He states the following: This is a thinking person's module, and if your group is a hack and slay gathering, they will be unhappy .... it is this writer's belief that brainwork is good for all players, and they will certainly benefit from playing this module, for individual levels of skill will be improved by reasoning and experience.

Later on, he adds as a tip for running the module: Read aloud appropriate sections, but never give any additional information which player characters would have no way of knowing, and avoid facial expressions or voice tones which might give helpful hints or mislead players. The real enjoyment of this module is managing to cope, and those players who manage to do so even semi-successfully will appreciate your refereeing properly and allowing them to "live or die" on their own.

In other words, S1 challenges the skill of the players, and not the abilities of the PCs.

And what a challenge it is. So again I'll ask: Has anyone played through S1 and lived? Or is the Tomb of Horrors widely regarded as simply not a "serious" module?

One other interesting sidenote to the Tomb of Horrors: Inside it says that it was originally used as a tournament module at Origins I (which is probably the ideal way to play it). Me, I would kill to enter a time machine and watch a few sessions of that.

Taking the Lamentations of the Flame Princess challenge

Over at Lamentations of the Flame Princess, James Edward Raggi IV has asked the blogosphere to take up the gauntlet and list the media influences that impact their D&D campaigns. This is a difficult one for me as I'm not currently running a game, but am involved as a player in two long-term 3.5 campaigns.

However, I can't resist taking up the challenge and listing those sources of media that have the most impact on my line of thinking re. RPGs, and perhaps will one day make their way into a campaign run by yours truly. So here goes:

Heavy metal. I think I could write an epic, years-spanning campaign based off nothing except for Ronnie James Dio song lyrics. Hell, maybe I'll do it some day. I'd throw some Manowar in, too.

J.R.R. Tolkien. Tolkien is my favorite fantasy writer so there's no way he wouldn't make an appearance on this list. If any clowns out there actually think Tolkien is "soft," please pick up The Silmarillion and tell me otherwise. There's brutal fate, awesome battles, evil and death enough in those tales to sate even the most Nordic-influenced reader. And who hasn't imagined Moria during a dungeon-crawl sequence, or Smaug when role-playing a red dragon?

Robert E. Howard/Conan. This includes not only the writings of the man himself, but also the great Savage Sword of Conan adaptations of his material. Vine-choked ruins of lost civilizations, corrupt, decadent, wealth-choked, whoring cities, pirates, dark and wild magic, what's not to like?

Bernard Cornwell. Cornwell is a great grim and gritty, historically accurate writer in the midst of a great series called the Saxon Chronicles, which are a must-read if you like dark ages warfare. Shield walls, Viking coastal raids, etc. would all make their way into my campaign.

Malory/King Arthur. I love the old tales of the round table, particularly the holy grail stories, the evil Morgan Le Fay and Mordred and the corruption at the heart of Camelot, a shining kingdom creating a circle of light in the dark ages, and the themes of the rise and fall of kingdoms.

Gary Gygax. Every page of the old Dungeon Master's Guide and Player's Handbook ooze inspiration and ideas, like some great, musty old tomes of lore. I also love Greyhawk and most of his modules, in particular Keep on the Borderlands, the Giants/Drow series, and his work in the S series. Gygax would definitely be at the heart of my theoretical campaign.

And with that list, I'll see you all in a week or so. I'm off on an internet-free vacation for a week or so. Take care all!

The magic of Moldvay

My gateway drug into the seductive hobby known as role-playing was the 1981 Basic D&D box set, as edited by the late, great, Tom Moldvay. For my money, page for page, this is still the best iteration of Dungeons and Dragons ever written.

I still own the same careworn copy of Moldvay basic that I bought back in 1981-82 or so. As I look at it now it remains a marvel of utility, organization, inspiration, and playability.

To begin with, Moldvay basic comprises a total of 64 pages. Take away the title page, foreward, and glossary, and you have a total of 60 pages. Heck, there are longer modules than this. By way of comparison, a single issue of Dungeon and Dragon magazine exceeded 100 pages towards the end of their run!

The rulebook is comprised of the following 8 sections:

Part 1: Introduction (2 pages)
Moldvay introduces what D&D is all about, how to use the book, and provides some basic D&D definitions.

Part 2: Player Character Information (10 pages)
Moldvay explains how to create a character, explains the character classes and their abilities, provides a simple list of arms and equipment, and adds an example of creating a player characer.

Part 3: Spells (4 pages)
A listing of cleric, magic user, and elf spells, as well as a brief description of how magic works.

Part 4: The Adventure (4 pages)
Moldvay explains how a party is organized, how to keep track of time in the dungeon, movement, traps, encumbrance, light, doors, and retainers, as well as how to award experience points.

Part 5: The Encounter (6 pages)
Moldvay describes monster reactions, combat sequence, saving throws, hand-to-hand vs. missile fire, morale, and adds a nice example of combat. It's a sobering look at how deadly and unforgiving low-level D&D can be: The hobgoblin attacking Fredrik rolls a 17, hitting Fredrik's Armor Class of 2, and scores 8 points of damage! Poor Fredrik had only 6 hit points, so he is killed. I'm also a fan of the morale rules in Moldvay: Why should every monster opt to fight to the death? The rules explain that you should check morale twice: After a side's first death in combat, and when half the monsters have been incapacitated. Monsters that successfully check morale twice will fight to the death. It's a simple, intuitive system resolved with an easy 2d6 roll against the monsters' morale score.

Part 6: Monsters (16 pages)
The longest section in the book is a listing of monsters, from acolyte to zombie.

Part 7: Treasure (6 pages)
Here is provided treasure types, general advice on how magic items work, and descriptions of items such as swords, potions, rings, scrolls, wands, gems, jewelry, and armor.

Part 8: Dungeon Master Information (10 pages)
Advice on how to choose a scenario, draw a map, and stock the dungeon. There's also a sample dungeon, the immortal Haunted Keep with its mysteriously vanished Rodemus family and band of goblin raiders that have taken up residence therein.

The last couple pages of the book include an afterward, a glossary, and inspirational source material. Several of my favorites are listed here, including Poul Anderson, T.H. White's The Once and Future King, and E.R. Eddison's The Worm Ouroboros. Moldvay was obviously a man of refined reading taste :).

In a hobby dominated by massive three-tome, 300-plus page core rules, it is shocking to see what Moldvay accomplished in so little space. Take a look at how short each of those chapters are (4 pages of spells!), and yet, they are all you need to learn

• what roleplaying is
• what D&D is
• how to create a character
• how to build a dungeon, and stock it with monsters and treasure
• how to play the game, as both a player-character and a dungeon master

Frankly, it's an amazing feat of economy and clarity. Moldvay basic is playable, as-is, right out of the box. The character record sheet provided in the rules fits on a single side of a standard 7 1/2 x 11 sheet of paper. You can open up the rules, roll up a character in 3 minutes, and get started. I know because I did it and had a blast with it many, many years ago.

I'm also a big fan of the presentation, including the organization, writing, and the art. I even like the font! There's some great pieces in here by Erol Otus, Jeff Dee, James Roslof, and Bill Willingham. I've included a couple samples here. I'd prefer not to launch into a full-scale attack on 3E "dungeonpunk" art, but I do find the style of the art in Moldvay basic far, far more appealing. More than any other of its numerous strengths, this game is inspirational and just wants to be played.

The only two weaknesses I think that you can level at Molday basic D&D are the following:

1. It only goes from levels 1-3. My character is weak. I can't fight dragons and go toe-to-toe with demons. True, that, and for this argument I have no rejoinder. This boxed set is not made for epic, level-spanning campaigns. I would, however, add that, if you couple it with the 64-page Dave Cook edit of Expert (levels 4-14), the companion set to Moldvay, you probably have all the game you'll ever need in a total of 128 pages.

2. It's too basic. Where are the options ? The feats? The skills? Elves and dwarves are classes? And huh, three alignments? Well, this one is a matter of taste. As anyone who pokes around the internet knows, D&D has become divided into two camps--those who prefer their games with heavy crunch and tactical options galore, and those who like to "make stuff up" and let the DM sort it out. At the risk of fence-straddling I'm in a third camp, and frequently vacillate between both extremes. I currently play in a 3E game and enjoy the tactical, battlemat combats, but at other times I find the rules maddeningly and needlessly complex.

But if I had to choose one play style or the other at gunpoint, I'd take the magic that is Moldvay. Because, if I had to, I could make up my own rules and get my theoretical game to the preferred level of crunch. I prefer to think of Moldvay as a toolkit: Here is everything you need to build a house, including hammer, nails, and a saw. There's nothing to say that you can't put more tools in the box. It's a framework made for tinkering.

Moldvay says as much in Part 1: Introduction:

While the material in this booklet is referred to as rules, that is not really correct. Anything in this booklet (and other D&D booklets) should be thought of as changeable--anything, that is, that the Dungeon Master or referee thinks should be changed.

Now that's my idea of options.

Here's a perfect example, courtesy of Trollsmyth, of what you can do with the rules: Shields Shall be Splintered! It's a simple fix that allows you to add "combat crunch" and a bit of realism into the rules, should you so desire. And you can add or cut rules as needed: The foundation upon which they are built is quite sound.

To quote the great Elvis Presley, Moldvay, "How Great Thou Art."

Fight On! has plenty of old-school spirit

The very first article in Fight On!--"A fanzine for the old-school renaissance"--details a method for quickly and randomly generating colorful details for fleshing out dwarf PCs. It's a fun little article and a pretty good indication of the contents to come, and refreshingly, there's no mechanics or feats to be found.

Fight On! is a new quarterly print magazine published and edited by Ignatius Umlaut. You have to order it through lulu.com , an on-line self-publishing outfit. It checks in at a slim 30 pages, but I can honestly say it feels like there's a lot of content between its covers. It costs $6.00 plus shipping and it took about a week to arrive in the mail after I ordered it--not bad for processing, printing, and shipping.

Although Fight On! caters to original three-book D&D (OD&D) players, its applicable to any of the older versions of the game. I would imagine that 3E players could also find lots of inspiration and ideas here as well. I myself never actually played OD&D, having cut my teeth on the excellent Tom Moldvay basic edition and later AD&D 1E, but I experienced an easy familiarity (and a strong bout of nostalgia) as soon I started reading.

Overall I found Fight On! to be a useful, fun publication. Although some articles falter a bit, throughout it remained very true to old-school campaigning in heart and spirit. The articles have imagination and depth to them, and it's easy to see why--they are taken from the contributors' own detailed campaign worlds, many of which are mentioned by name. The writing style of many of the articles has a Gygaxian ring, incorporating vivid descriptions and language and a Dungeon Master's air of authority and whimsy. For example, in "The Devil's in the Details," the author points out that players should add character to their PCs by using moderate bits of flavor, but no lengthy, complex backstories, lest the "weight of history collapse her into a scripted doom." I miss this style of writing in the 3E manuals, which are far too text-booky and staid for my tastes.

One notable change is that, presumably for copyright's sake, Fight On! does not use obvious D&Disms. Therefore, levels become "ranks," hit points "wounds," armor class "defense class," and so on. I found this slightly jarring at first read but barely noticed it thereafter.

The contents include:

• Dedication to Gary Gygax. A most appropriate way to kick off the publication.
• The Devil's in the Details. Adding detail to dwarven PCs. Includes tables (a staple of old-school RPGs) from which players can generate personality traits, unique equipment, and background details.
• The Swanmay. A new character class, the swan maiden. While this is a bit too high-fantasy for my tastes, I enjoyed the free-wheeling writing style of this article. Example: "I don't begrudge people who want to try an interesting character with a few extra abilities, but if balance is an issue for you or your players you might consider levying a 10% penalty to rank advancement." A perfect example of rules as suggestions, not a straightjacket.
• Flexible Sorcery. Probably my favorite article in Fight On!, this describes ways to make mages feel more magical, including spontaneous magic (granting mages the ability to summon small spells at will, more for flavor and creativity); counterspelling (a method for negating an opposing magic user's spell as your action); and magical duels (a fun, easy-to-use system for resolving mano-y-mano wizard duels). Includes another fun table that the loser has to roll on, with the results ranging from smoke pouring out of the losing wizard's ears to encasement in amber or outright annihilation. How cool is that? This piece was accompanied by a fun wizard-duel cartoon reminiscent of some of artwork in the 1E Dungeon Master's Guide.
• The Ruined Monastery. A fun little drop-and-play dungeon crawl that seems like a fun afternoon of gaming.
• The Tomb Complex of Ymmu M'Kursa. I didn't know what to make of this. It's a description of a tomb with tons of flavor and horror and weird touches, including deathtraps and sci-fi elements, but it's presented without any adventure hooks or level suggestions. This is old D&D at its most extreme--a simple location description at your disposal.
• Setting up your Sandbox. A great DMing advice article for novice/intermediate DM's about running a free-wheeling, player driven campaign. Ends with a great line that gets to the heart of old-school RPGing: "The stuff of pure gaming joy isn't always what you might encounter in a well-written novel." Amen.
• Puissant Priestly Powers. New spell-like abilities for clerics. Some cool ideas but some of these effects seem a bit unbalanced (yikes--the dreaded balance word).
• Enchanted Holy Symbols. Great little sidebar about magical holy symbols.
• Nature's Nasty Node. A mid-level adventure. I wasn't wowed by the adventure but there's some nice ideas to mine in here, including the Node itself, a corrupted dryad pool.
• The Space Wizards. A high-level campaign seed that was a bit too crazy for my tastes (space wizards, end of the world scenario, etc).
• Creepies & Crawlies. This article fell a bit flat for me, unfortunately. The monsters are nothing to write home about and I didn't find its tounge-in-cheek style all that funny. Oh well.
• In the Time of the Broken Kingdom. A very nice closing editorial by the editor that looks back with fondness on the old days, and discusses the future of old school gaming and its possibilities with optimism.
• Aftifacts, Adjuncts, and Oddments. A page of magic items. Wyrmdread--a sword forged in the elf-dragon wars--was particularly cool.

There were a few other small, nit-picky things I didn't like about Fight On! Most of the artwork was evocative, although some pieces didn't work for me. I also thought that layout could be improved (the headlines were too small, and a few articles break at odd places). But frankly, these criticisms are small. Fight On! was a blast to read and a refreshing infusion of creativity. Here's hoping that it continues to wave the standard of old-school gaming.

D&D: Suffering a slow death?

Having spent eight years in the newspaper industry working for a small, family-owned broadsheet (which are as commonplace nowadays as milkmen and encyclopedia salesmen, and about as wise a career choice), I know what it's like to see a business suffering from a slow death. Not a death that can be measured in months or even years, perhaps, but in decades, their life blood drained away by a series of innumerable nicks and cuts. The same fate I fear is in store for D&D.

Not that I expect newspapers or my favorite pastime to ever completely die, but rather, I fear they may cease to exist as profitable business lines. They will likely live on as pale shapes--wraiths, to draw a comparsion with the Lord of the Rings, another favorite subject of mine--neither alive nor dead, but living some undead existence, a dim shadow of their past greatness.

Newspaper circulations are indeed decreasing year-by-year as people turn towards the internet and other media outlets for news and information. But what about D&D? Aren't there claims from Wizards of the Coast that the hobby is as robust as ever? Some figures I've seen thrown around are $30 million a year in RPGs sold and roughly six million D&D players playing worldwide last year.

Frankly, I find the evidence that D&D and other RPGs are going strong less than compelling. And although my experiences are of course anecdotal, all indications--at least from my perspective--show an unhealthy trend for its long-term future.

When I was a pre-teen and teenager, the two local malls (Woburn and Burlington) each had a thriving hobby store that made their business selling RPGs and miniatures, along with the usual model trains, cars, etc. Both are now gone. My hometown had a bookstore that also sold RPGs and miniatures. It too is gone. I was shocked to find out that my current neighboring town of Amesbury actually supported two game/comic shops when I moved here four years ago. But in the past year one has gone out of business.

RPGs were everywhere in their heyday (late 1970's to mid-1980s). You could find ads on television, in the back of comic books, and in magazines. D&D had even had its own Saturday morning cartoon. When I was in seventh grade (circa 1985) my middle school had a Friday afternoon, seventh-period Dungeons and Dragons elective (yes, it rocked). And the game itself--I started with the classic Tom Moldvay-edited box set, with its 64-page ruleset and copy of B2 Keep on the Borderlands--was available in all the major outlet stores.

Now, you have to squint to find evidence that D&D is still played. The big bookstore chains (Barnes and Noble, Borders), at least in my area, might have a single, poorly stocked shelf of D&D in the hobbies section or science fiction section. Other games like Call of Cthulhu or Rifts are nowhere to be found. TSR and WOTC have tried to put basic versions of the game in the larger outlet stores, but largely without success. And when was the last time you saw an ad for D&D in any major news outlet?

D&D let slip what could have been a great opportunity for good exposure in 2000 with the release of the film Dungeons and Dragons. Unfortunately, what we got was one of the worst movies I've seen in 10 years. What should have been a nice marketing vehicle turned into two painful hours of my life flushed down the drain that I still want back.

But aside from a bomb of a movie, why are RPGs declining? Like a lot of others familiar with D&D, I blame computer games. World of Warcraft, Everquest, and their ilk--i.e., graphics-heavy, story-based, immersive, computer RPGs--offer experiences that satisfy the cravings of many potential (and former) pen-and-paper gamers. Why bother with the hassle of having to get together a group of 4-6 people with busy schedules, and doing all that pre-game prep work and post-game paperwork, when you can turn on your computer from the comfort of your own home and play whenever you feel like it? The siren song of computer games existed when I was younger with titles like Wizards Crown and Ultima, but the new breed are light-years more advanced, and much more effective at drawing potential players away.

For more great recent discussion on this topic, check out Whither D&D? at Trollsmyth and D&D in the News at Grognardia (great name for an RPG blog, by the way).

Wizards of the Coast is trying to fight back with an online version of D&D, which will reportedly allow players like me--30-something, with demanding jobs and busy family lives--to break down traditional barriers to play by providing a virtual tabletop. This Associated Press article sums up the issue a lot better than I can. It's a model that could work, but it's also fraught with danger. D&D simply cannot do some things as well as a computer, and trying to fit a round peg into a square hole could result in WOTC squandering millions, perhaps leading parent company Hasbro to drop the line.

A unique strength of D&D and tabletop RPGs in general has always been the face-to-face social component. In addition to fun and adventure in imaginary worlds, RPGs allow creative, like-minded folks to gather around a table and enjoy each other's company. While I know WOTC is touting that this face-to-face experience will remain a viable part of fourth edition, part of me has doubts. Remember that WOTC also maintained that 3E can be played without miniatures, but then rewrote the rules to all but cripple a game that doesn't have a tabletop grid and some type of figures.

So should D&D ignore the online space and continue to churn out hardbacks until the line eventually goes the way of the newspaper? That would be the safe route, but also the path of a long, slow, dance with death. I credit WOTC for trying a new approach, but I also fear that traditional RPGs, like newspapers, are by their nature destined to become relics of a forgotten age, played and debated about only by a small, dwindling fan base like me.

A legend is gone

T'was a sad day for me and the roleplaying community in general: Gary Gygax, co-founder of Dungeons and Dragons and the father of role-playing games, passed into the west at the age of 69.

The role-playing boards I frequent, including EN World, RPGnet, and Dragonsfoot, are full of threads about his passing. As I read them, I was struck at how many people this man touched. More than once I felt my eyes sting with tears.

My brush with the man came not in person--and I'm kicking myself hard for not making it to Gencon and shaking his hand--but over e-mail. Back on January 12, 2002, I sent Gary the following message. It sums up pretty much the impact D&D has had on my life:

Gary,

As a longtime (18 years or so) player of Dungeons and Dragons, I just wanted to take this opportunity to thank you for creating the hobby that has been such a rewarding part of my life. I came across your name on the EN World boards and felt compelled to write.

D&D introduced me to a great new bunch of friends; it got me to read, inspired me to write (and think) creatively. I can't begin to tell you how many times I've referenced and read the old DM's guide, Player's Handbook and Monster Manual. Though AD&D has given way to new editions, I still turn to those great old tomes for inspiration and wonderful memories. In my opinion, they are still the best books the hobby has ever produced.

And your modules, especially the Against the Giants--Drow--Demonweb series, are still unsurpassed. I plan on converting them for 3E and running them for my current group. They will last forever.

Again, I thank you for your creative vision, and the courage to launch a hobby that has stood the test of time, the computer age, and even misguided religious fervor. You've made millions of people happy.

Brian Murphy

I honestly expected no reply, but just wanted to thank him for his labors in the hobby that he, for all intents and purposes, created. But, shock of all shocks, less than two hours later I recieved this reply:

Shucks, Brian...

Okay, thanks for those good words. You know I had a lot of fun both in writing and playing OA/D&D too, of course. Fact is, my love for writing and games burns as brightly as it did back in 1970 when I cut loose from the world of suits and "other business" to concentrate on what I wanted to do (^_^).

Come on back anytime,

Gary

I will save and treasure this simple message from Gygax, a man who changed my life for the better. I only wish I could break out a game of AD&D first edition tonight--perhaps the Tomb of Horrors--and honor him with a proper tribute.

But in the meantime, God speed Gary. I raise a tankard of ale in your honor.

A Dungeons and Dragons dilemma

An interesting difference of opinion--and gaming styles--recently cropped up during our regular Dungeons and Dragons game. The scenario involved an interesting quandary about player versus player-character decisions, and revealed a simple truth about role-playing games in general: That sometimes, there is no right answer.

To provide a little background: The island nation of Aflitan had just declared war on the island of Ilsardia, whom our party (or at least three of us) have sworn oaths to protect. Our party was hurrying to stop an all-out attack that we thought was about to occur on the peaceful village of Hommlet. It was now early evening, and the attack was to come sometime before daybreak.

En route, my PC (an elven ranger) noticed a single set of tracks leading away from Hommlet--a strange finding, given the snowy conditions, the time of day, and the general unsafe conditions of the road. We reasoned that it may have been an Aflitanian spy off to deliver a signal for the attack. But opinions were divided: should we make all haste to Hommlet, or follow the tracks and investigate? Ultimately, we decided to violate one of the oldest and most sacred rules of the game ("Never split the party!") and break into two groups: Tristan and Shem, our human fighter and halfling thief, respectively, would press on at all speed to reach Hommlet and warn the populace. I would follow the tracks with our cleric and wizard.

Our progess following the tracks was slow and Tristan and Shem reached Hommlet first. Naturally, the worst scenario occured--an attack had already begun. Hearing yells of pain and the clash of steel on steel--and witnessing a Hommlet defender pass his spear clean through an attacker, only to have it strike back, seemingly unfazed (undead?)--Tristan and Shem drew their swords and charged into the fray.

So was this the appropriate action? One of our players who controls the wizard PC (Cyrus) argued vehemently against it, and with good reason. When attacking piecemeal, a party is much more vulnerable. In D&D, as in real life, there's strength in numbers. Each PC has a role in combat, with bow users and spell-slingers providing long range support for the toe-to-toe fighters. Shem and Tristan also deprived themselves of entering the battle powered up with valuable "buff" spells, like haste and bless, that our wizard and cleric could have conferred.

Secondly, no one likes to sit and watch from the sidelines. Presumably when we next meet, I and the wizard and cleric players will to have to wait and watch a couple rounds of tense, exciting combat as we rush back toward Hommlet.

In summary, these are all good reasons for irritance. But Dungeons and Dragons and role-playing aren't that simple, and there's another side to the story to consider.

In role-playing games (as is evident by both their name, and their nature), the player assumes a role--that of his or her character. The degree to which we imbue ourselves into these roles varies from player to player. This level of player immersion typically falls into one of three camps:

1. Players who actually adopt voices and accents and "become" their character as much as possible.
2. Players who play out how they believe their character would act in a given circumstance, based on their character's alignment (i.e., good, evil, neutral), personality, history, and other factors.
3. Players who consider their character to be an abstraction, and play their PC as an extension of themselves. In other words, I, Brian Murphy, am also Arden the Ranger, and Arden has the same beliefs and exhibits the same behavior that I would in a given situation.

Personally, I tend to hew closest to option no. 2. I'm not one for mimicking voices and mannerisms, but I like to think and act as Arden would act, even if it means that I might make a less than tactically-sound decision. I get a kick out of stepping outside myself. But there's also something to be said for option 3: D&D can be enjoyed as a fun game, in and of itself. There's a host of tactical decisions to make, resources to keep track of, experience points to be gained, etc.

In summary, Tristan was "right" for rushing into his combat, as it was a heroic, selfless action and villagers lives were in peril. And Cyrus' player was right, as Tristan's decision was not tactically sound, and may cost us in the end. Suffice to say that there's many ways to play and enjoy role-playing games, and none are inherently better than the other.

In the end, it's all a matter of style and opinion. Can you say the same for Monopoly or Trivial Pursuit? Hardly. And that's why for me, role-playing games are a great hobby and remain a constant source of entertainment and fascination.

Getting nostalgic for old school Dungeons and Dragons

While surfing the boards today at RPG.net, a Web site devoted to role-playing games, I came across this ultra-cool link.

Click through, check out these fine old-school miniatures by Otherworld, and if you're of a certain shared background, I guarantee that you'll experience an intense bout of nostalgia. I did, as I was immediately (and pleasantly) assaulted with a flood of memories about first edition Advanced Dungeons and Dragons.

For those who haven't been following the game's progress, D&D is currently on version 3.5, and by the summer a fourth edition is due for release. Like 2.0, 3.0, and 3.5 before it, fourth edition promises sleeker rules, more options, and more "fun" than ever before. On most days I find talk of new rules and new versions of D&D a good thing, as it represents progression, a refinement of a rules-system that has brought me great pleasure since I started playing circa 1982 or so.

But not today. These old miniatures brought back the countless hours I spent with the old first edition books, aging tomes like the Players Handbook (the one with the gem-eyed, fire-lit, leering idol on the cover, above), and the Dungeon Master's Guide (the one with the three adventurers battling a towering, muscular, red-skinned efreet on the cover, with the fabled City of Brass floating over a flame-swept sea of oil on the back, below).

Role-playing games were simpler back then. Certainly there were rules (and first edition AD&D had its share of them, often byzantine and difficult to find in a pinch due to poor organization in the books), but when we didn't know a rule and couldn't be bothered to look it up, we simply made it up on the spot. Sure, we had impossibly high-level characters and ran "monty haul" campaigns in which +5 holy avengers and Axes of the Dwarvish Lords were scattered across the land, but it was fun.

If this sounds like nostalgia talking, you're right. The games I play now are better, more focused, and more immersive. But I believe that it's more than just fond, hazy memories of childhood coloring my perceptions. Even though later iterations of the game are arguably better--cleaner written, with more coherent rules, and more options that allow for more character customization--first edition AD&D has it all over the later editions in one crucial aspect--flavor. The old books were far more evocative of adventure, of mystery, and of danger. Version 3.0/3.5, despite its superior rules, simply can't compete in this regard.

Here's an example. From the 3.5 Dungeon Master's Guide, page 7, "Style of play:"

The DM provides the adventure and the world. The players and the DM work together to create the game as a whole. However, it's your responsibility to guide the way the game is played. The best way to accomplish this is by learning what the players want and figuring out what you want as well.

Ho-hum. Essentially all the 3.5 rules are written like this: Dry, text-booky, highly accurate but devoid of color. Compare and contrast with the AD&D first edition Players Handbook, p. 109, "Successful adventures", written by the incomparable Gary Gygax:

Characters with stories related about their exploits--be they cleverly wrought gains or narrow escapes--bring a sense of pride and accomplishment to their players, and each new success adds to the luster and fame thus engendered. The DM will likewise revel in telling of such exploits...just as surely as he or she will not enjoy stories which constantly relate the poor play of his or her group! Some characters will meet their doom, some will eventually retire in favor of a new character of a different class and/or alignment; but playing well is a reward unto itself, and old characters are often remembered with a fondness and pride as well. If you believe that Advanced Dungeons & Dragons is a game worth playing, you will certainly find it doubly so if you play well.

If that doesn't make you want to grab a torch, a sword, a 10-foot pole, and head into the underdark, I don't know what will.

If you need further proof of first edition's greatness, go back to that link up above and click on that troll miniature. That menacing, hollow-eyed visage is--and always will be--Dungeons and Dragons to me.

An adventure completed

Recently I had the fortune of finishing up Legends are Made, not Born, which marked my return as a Dungeons & Dragons dungeon master (DM) after some 17+ years since my last DMing experience. And what fun it was!

As you can read about in a previous post, the players in this module are effective "zero level" PCs, or normal townspeople who decide to become heroes by doing battle with an ogre that has kidnapped two townspeople. The PCs gathered information and purchased supplies in the town of Dundraville, then made their way to Skulltop Hillock, where the ogre lives. Sneaking in via a little-used back entrance, they battled their way through some cave denizens, including giant centipedes and a ghoul (the corpse of a long-dead warrior-king), before encountering the ogre Blogg.

After a PC sprang a log deadfall trap which awoke the drugged and sleeping ogre, an epic fight ensued. In the end, one PC was knocked out by the ogre's massive club, but Blogg was dead and the day was saved. Or was it?

The PCs soon found out from Blogg's sniveling captive hobgoblin servant Gurt that the "real master" had charmed Blogg and ordered him to capture the two townsfolk. The master--Suto Lore, a "power thrower," lives in the tunnels below Blogg's cave, said the terrified Gurt. The adventure was about to get a lot bigger and more sinister.

The PCs pushed ahead and made their way down a trapped ladder and a past a trapped hallway to Suto's quarters. There they found Suto's diary and uncovered a diabolic plan: Suto is seeking to locate the Codex Ilyium, a book of great and evil sorcerous power, but can only find it by summoning the demon Frogroth. Suto has created a demon summoning circle and is only a day away from his final preparations.

After battling Suto's enchanted broom(!), the PCs made their way to the temple. Alerted to the PCs presence after they set off a screaming shrieker, Suto prepared himself with a host of spells, including mage armor, obscuring mist, and levitate, and cast summon monster, summoning a fiendish spider to drop on the PCs as they entered the chamber.

Soon a pitched fight began. Suto was well-protected, and all the PCs could see of him was a billowing pillar of smoke. Several arrows were fired too low and went under the levitating wizard. Bec, the party's muscle-bound fighter, was bitten by the spider. Although the PCs slew the critter, it slowed them down enough for Suto to summon a small fire elemental from a brazier in the room. This thing proved nasty, as its blows inflicted both bludgeoning and fire damage.

Soon two PCs were down. Suto then cast hold person on Bec, who was frozen to the spot, and the fire elemental burned him alive (sorry Bec). Three PCs--half the party--were either dead or unconscious, and I was worried that my first time DMing in almost two decades would result in a TPK, or total party kill!

But the PCs proved both heroic and resourceful. Lord Casimir, a snobby son of a nobleman, bravely charged past the elemental and into the billowing smoke to thrust and cut wildly. Even though he was blinded by a glitterdust spell, he ran Suto through with a sword-thrust that had about a 1 in 20 chance of hitting. The few remaining PCs finally wore down the elemental with arrows and magic missiles, and the fight was over.

Truth be told (and if you're reading it here, players, its your bad), the PCs never found the "voice below" hinted at in Suto's diary, a small demon (a quasit) that was in league with Suto, and resided in the bottom of the pit in the summoning room. Of course, we didn't finish until 2:45 a.m. so everyone was tired at that point, including me, and I probably could have done a better job tipping the players off. Ah well, perhaps this could lead to another adventure...

Regardless, the PCs had defeated the evil wizard, rescued the two prisoners, and returned to Dundraville as heroes. The town welcomed them with cheers and kisses, and old Tarik one-arm, a retired fighter who lost his arm battling Blogg years ago, clapped them on the back over a cold ale at the Merry Riot Inn, and had this to say:

"As I've always said--legends are made, and not born, and you have taken the first step on a much larger journey, lads and ladies."

Overall, it was a fun night and a fine example as to why I love this game. The adventure--both the module itself, and my own--was complete.

Behind the DM screen again, part 2

Part 2 of a 2-part series about my experience dungeon mastering a game of Dungeons & Dragons after a long, long absence.

As I stated in a previous post, I recently stepped behind the screen again and dungeon mastered my first game of Dungeons & Dragons in more than 17 years. The module was "Legends are Made, not Born," from the excellent Dungeon Crawl Classics line, published by Goodman Games.

The adventure background is as follows:

For the past few years, an ogre has demanded monthly tribute from the town of Dundraville. Since the demands were ale, sheep, and occasional mundane supplies, the town complied with these demands. The ogre was content to collect his extorted goods, and leave the town alone. However, last month, the tribute changed. In addition to ale and sheep, the ogre demanded gold and building materials!

But the situation has grown even more grim. The ogre returned yesterday with yet more demands of ale and worse: townsfolk! The town was in an uproar and denied the ogre’s request. The brute flew into a rage and grabbed two townsfolk and hauled them back to his lair. They’re destined for his gullet, no doubt!

But amidst all the turmoil, six brave townsfolk have vowed to confront the ogre, and bring him to justice. The brave ones include a noble’s son, a gnomish alchemist, a member of the town militia, a wizard’s apprentice, a local trapper, and a mysterious elven witch that lairs in a nearby forest. With the aid of the local druids and brewer in town, the last batch of ale the ogre took was laced with a mild poison to help incapacitate the brute. Now it’s time for brave heroes to finish the deed.

Overall, the experience was very rewarding and a lot of fun. In several hours of play we managed to cram in a good mix of role-playing, which involved interacting with a half-dozen NPCs in Dundraville, gathering rumors, and buying equipment. The PCs entered the cave from a little used rear entrance and, once inside, did some exploring and fought a few cave denizens, including a ghoul (the animated corpse of a long-dead warrior). The evening culminated with a great brawl with the ogre Blogg, and a cliffhanger (we weren't able to finish, unfortunately), and I think we all left happy.

Of course, looking back, I made some mistakes and wish I had a couple "do-overs." First, the bad:

• About 15 minutes into the session I was was feeling lost and nervous and felt like quitting. Fortunately, this feeling passed.
  
  
• I did a poor job portraying two NPCs, in hindsight due to lack of preparation: Sherynella, a female druid, and Kerwin Krell, a local shopkeeper.
  
  
• I had meant to have the townspeople give the PCs a rousing send-off as they left town, but forgot. In this module the PCs are townspeople who decide to become heroes, and I had planned a dramatic exit as they marched off to fight the ogre.
  
  
• I didn't know enough about the pregenerated PC's backgrounds to weave them fully into the fabric of Dundraville. As a result, occasionally the PC's interaction with the town's NPCs seemed stilted and artificial, as though the PCs were outsiders instead of locals. Again, this was due to a lack of preparation on my part.

Now on to the good, which I (think) outweighed the bad:

• I liked my characterization of Tarik One-Arm, a grizzled old fighter living on the edge of town, as well as the way I handled the bartender Clay and his staff at the Merry Riot Inn. Tarik came off as suspicious and gruff, only warming up when the PCs offered to help him chop wood. Clay was a jovial halfling coping with the loss of his three barmaids (one of whom was taken by the ogre), and two replacement serving wenches struggling at their job. Not surprisingly, I had thought about these NPCs' motivations in advance and how they would react to the PCs.
  
• There was good description and game play during the PCs' exploration of the ogre's cave. It seemed tense and fraught with danger.
  
• We had a great concluding fight with the ogre Blogg. The encounter started with the party's gnome setting off a log deadfall trap, which roused Blogg from his sleep and started a running fight that eventually involved a wolf and his hobgoblin keeper. Three members of the party threw up a wall of crates, which wound up on fire in the midst of the melee. I had to make several ad-hoc rulings when Blogg burst through the wall of crates and bowled over two PCs, but it went very smoothly.
  
• I was able to weave some of the PCs backgrounds into the story. For example, I made Bowen, a PC farmer who is destined to become a ranger, familiar to several local farmers, and took care to have the townsfolk react to Lord Castimir--a well-known noble--with a mixture of awe and scorn.

I'll leave you with three lessons learned:

1. Preparation is critical. Some DMs are excellent at flying by the seat of their pants, but I'm not one of them. The best encounters and most memorable NPC interactions during my adventure were all those for which I had made the most preparation. The lesson? Know your material.

2. When you start, start with a bang. I wish I had began with an encounter that required immediate reaction by the PCs. This would have removed the early feelings of awkwardness and nervousness. It also gets everyone engaged in the adventure immediately. The tendency of most players at the start of an unfamiliar campaign is to wait to be led into the adventure (guilty as charged).

3. Weave the PC's backgrounds and personality into the adventure/campaign at every turn. This makes for greater player involvement and keeps them engaged. The PCs are supposed to be on the center stage, after all, and everyone likes their chance to shine. Having been a player for the last seven years, some of my favorite gaming experiences were those times when the DM drew on my character's background or motivations and wove them into the tale. Involving your PC makes you feel like you're a part of the scenario or campaign world, and not just an observer.

Behind the DM screen again

Part 1 of a 2-part series about my experience dungeon mastering a game of Dungeons & Dragons after a long, long absence.

About a month ago I had an experience I can only describe as simultaneously terrifying, draining, exhilarating, and rewarding. After more than 17 years, I stepped back "behind the screen" and found myself dungeon mastering a Dungeons and Dragons game.

It was, frankly, a surreal experience. Staring over the top of a cardboard screen at four expectant players, an adventure module (pictured above) spread out before me, the time had come to finally run a game again. Not unlike a disc jockey at a wedding, it was my job to help deliver the night's entertainment, and either send everyone home happy or fail miserably in the attempt.

So how did I get there? Let me explain.

As I've stated in a previous post, D&D is my primary hobby and has been a big part of my life. As a 10-year-old kid, my parents bought me the basic D&D rules, and I was off and running. Being the official keeper of the game books, and one of (or perhaps the only) person in my group--which included some neighborhood friends and my older brother--to have read the rules, I became the de-facto DM. I didn't know what I was doing half the time, and I'm sure there's many rules we either misinterpreted or broke, but it didn't matter. We were all having a blast.

When I entered high school, however, my gaming slowed, and by the time I hit college, it had stopped. I was playing sports, starting to date, and D&D was no longer "cool" (aside--D&D never was cool, but until my teenage years, I never felt the need for it to be so). I kept all my old box sets and hardcovers, of course, and from time to time (under cover of darkness) I'd break them out and read them. But my playing days were effectively over.

Fast forward to 2001. D&D had received a shot in the arm with the release of third edition. I was married, working full-time, and thinking about having children, and the days of being "cool" were long gone. Naturally, the time was right to start up D&D again. Through the EN World Web site, an online community of D&D players, I located a gaming group in Southern New Hampshire, and for the last six years or so have been happily playing.

Let me rephrase that. While I've been playing for the last six years, it's been as a player only. With two committed DMs in our group, I was not required to DM. This had its perks, I soon discovered. All I had to do was show up with my character sheet, slip into and out of my role when I felt like it, and roll a D20 when it was my turn in combat. I was even free to get up to eat or use the bathroom whenever I wanted to.

But fun as playing was (and is), after a while I felt that something was missing. You see, when you're the DM, you own the game. The world is yours, so to speak, and you are its creator. You create the NPCs, their motivations and personalities, you map out the dungeons, pick the monsters, place the treasures and traps. It's a whole new ballgame from simply running a single player-character.

We were wrapping up one DM's campaign arc and about to switch gears and resume our second campaign with the other DM. There was a natural break in the action, and I opened my big mouth and offered to run a game. I pitched it as a one-shot adventure with pregenerated characters, and, much to my surprise, the group accepted.


Of course, with great power comes great responsbility, and I was about to find that out first hand.

Dungeons and Dragons fan, and (proud?) of it

I'm a huge fan of Dungeons & Dragons and of role-playing games in general. I've been playing D&D since roughly age 10 when my parents, after some begging, bought me the Tom Moldvay box set (you D&D historians know the one--it has the fighter and the fireball-flinging female mage about to battle a green dragon on the cover). Despite a long break with the game in the 1990's, D&D has always been a big part of my life and my chief hobby.

There, I've said it!!!

So why is it that only my immediate family and a few close friends know about my favorite pastime? Why do I keep my keen interest in RPGs a carefully-protected secret at work, at family functions, and from society at large?

Let's not kid ourselves--there's still a huge stigma attached to these games, that's why.

No, I'm not talking about the devil-worshipping, underground steam tunnel/black magic stigma associated with D&D that had parents panicking for the souls of their children in the 1980's. I'm talking about the stigma of nerdiness.

Extreme nerdiness.

Despite the fact that the Harry Potter novels are selling through the roof, that millions of "normal" people flocked to the theatres from 2001-2004 to watch Lord of the Rings, and that no one bats an eye when husbands and wives play computer role playing games like the crazily-popular World of Warcraft, D&D is different. It and other pen-and-pencil, table-top RPGs remain a subject of derision, and its players the object of skepticism. In my own experience, at least, the myth persists that D&D players are fundamentally flawed, out of touch, overweight, cat-piss smelling freaks hovering at the edge of society--and it probably always will.

Never mind the fact that I'm a middle-aged, happily married man with a loving wife and two children. I have a decent paying job in a publishing company. Despite my recent growth of beard, I'm well-kept and in reasonably good shape. At work and elsewhere I'm regarded as an (semi) intelligent, run-of-the-mill, family man. The good folks I play with are all successful, hard-working, great people with lives and families.

Nevertheless, I fear that this veneer of normality would be irreparably shattered into a thousand fragments were I reveal that on some Saturdays I assume the role of Kos Vilmirian, a hard-drinking, wealth-mongering fighter/rogue from the seaside city of Marsember in the Forgotten Realms. I quail at the thought of letting slip the fact that I enjoy rolling 20-sided dice and pushing around painted minatures on maps of sprawling underground dungeons with other grown men (and women) once or twice a month.

I can imagine the conversation at work:

(Me): "So Steve, what did you do this weekend?"
(Steve): "Watched the Pats game with my buddies, went out drinking Saturday night. "You?"
(Me): "Well, we slew the archmage Antarax and his undead minions who were planning to overrun the village of Rithwic. And I scored an awesome +3 Frostband longsword!"
(Steve): *Dies on spot*

You get the picture.

Perhaps my thinking is wrong, and that my friends and co-workers would accept my hobby. Maybe someday I'll grow a backbone and declare to the world that I like slaying pretend orcs, tramping through imaginary dungeons, and searching for make-believe treasure hordes.

But for now, baring my soul to cyberspace will have to suffice.