The Hinge's Handle

The mysterious, and yet ultimately annoying, "Hinge's Handle".

There's clearly been some sort of mistake. I recently entered RPG Superstar 2012 - the industry's equivalent of the X Factor - yet somehow my magic item didn't make the final cut. Surely a clerical error? Either that, or the sheer originality of my submission simply blew their minds.

Sadly not. Now the lights have come up and I stand nervously before the judges. "This is a really annoying item", says one, whom I naturally assume to be Simon Cowell. "You're making too much work for the GM", snaps Paula Abdul. The crowd snickers. All that's left now is for me to make some hissy, retributive comment and flounce off-stage.

They're right, of course. It's great that Paizo runs this every year, and in all seriousness, it's a massive undertaking for the judges to reply individually to every item they receive. I just hope that GMs look beyond their own submissions, and view the competition for what it truly is: a creative gold mine. Just reading through the final 32 - and the rejects pile - has given me a stack of solid items to introduce into my campaigns (won't my players be pleased!). But beyond that, its given me ideas for villains, organisations, even whole adventures. There's a lot of talent out there.

So what did I submit? Well, I'll be the first to admit my item is a bit "gonzo" - and does put a lot of work onto the GM's shoulders - but hopefully it facilitates some creative thinking at the table. That's the hallmark of a good wondrous item. Unfortunately for me, it's also fairly abundant in those suggestions that beat me to the cut!

Still, I suppose there's always next year.

Drowning in Rules

Have at you, internet! (thanks to Tjaart for the pic)

Eh? What’s that? You didn’t know they’re making a new edition of Dungeons and Dragons? There now, I’m sure we’ll still find a use for you around here somewhere. Sharpening our pencils, perhaps.

Of course, you should have heard the internet exploding. Just when we thought the Edition Wars had reached an uneasy impasse - its soldiers settling down to a peaceful Christmas dinner in the trenches, perhaps even a spot of footie on no-man’s land – then, blam, here we go again. 

Here at Beholder Pie we remain optimistic. We’ll be participating in the play-test, and I’ll be reporting our findings. As the rules get clearer, we may even start playing a few one-shots between campaign sessions. I'm looking forward to it. If "D&D Next" succeeds in reconciling our community's fractious differences, the hobby as a whole benefits – and for that, I’d happily see a few of my sacred cows slaughtered.

My predictions? Well, loads of people are saying they’ll be able to “port” their 1E character into a 5E game, or pitch a 2E thief against a 3E rogue, but personally, I think that’s reading too much into it. When Monte Cook says “your 1E-loving friend can play in your 3E-style game and not have to deal with all the options he or she doesn’t want or need”, I believe he’s talking about play styles, not rules. I’m guessing what we’ll see next year is a core set of rules heavily based on 3E and 4E - but just very, very basic. An “Essentialising of Essentials", if you will. Then, a bunch of optional modules to cover all the varying situations a campaign throws at you, presented for varying levels of simulation (which is where 3E sensibilities come into play). As for playing highly-customised characters alongside simpler characters, compare the Essentials Slayer to the Weaponmaster fighter. I think we’ll be seeing more stuff like that.

Still, in this time of reflection it’s interesting to compare how some of those older rules sit alongside the new ones. Take drowning, for example.

In 4^th Edition, swimmers last three whole minutes before running out of breath. Thereafter, they need to pass a DC 20 Endurance check each round or lose a healing surge, followed by Hit Point loss. If we assume our swimmer is a 1^st level wizard with no skill training, that’s a 95% chance of failure every round. Even if he fails every check, it’s still going to take him twenty six rounds to drown after running out of breath. To put that into perspective, with a swim speed of 3 our wizard can swim 512 metres underwater before drowning – or just over ten lengths of an Olympic swimming pool.  

I’m no athlete by any means, but I grew up near the sea and I’m a relatively good swimmer. Diving underwater, I can hold my breath for thirty, maybe forty seconds before I start to freak out. Three minutes? Not a chance. Now, I’m not opposed to bending the rules of reality if the payoff is good – but here, I’m not sure what this rule is actually doing. For determining how long you can hold your breath out of combat, it’s simply broken. In underwater combat, that three minute “buffer zone” is meaningless – a single blow and you’re onto the endurance checks. So why have it at all?

According to my Rules Cyclopedia, an average swimmer in Basic D&D lasts fifty seconds before he runs out of breath. After that, he could drown any round (50% chance first round, with a -5% penalty each round thereafter).  In Basic, each round equals 10 seconds, so the longest he could go after running out of breath is one minute forty. 

This is a great example of Basic doing it better, but it doesn’t take into account skills. For 4^th Edition, I’d use something like this...

DROWNING: A HOUSERULE
Given a few moments to prepare, an adventurer can hold their breath for a number of rounds equal to their Constitution score (or half their Constitution score if they are performing a strenuous activity such as swimming). Once out of breath, the character must succeed on a DC 10 Endurance check. Success buys them another round, but raises the DC of their next check by 5. If they fail any of these checks, the character is now dying.   

Lost in the Labyrinth: An Alternate Storyline

It's almost time to wrap up my Thunderspire Labyrinth series, and look to new things. Amongst other more mundane resolutions (see: waistline), I've committed myself to gaming more this year. I want to play a complete campaign of Gears and Gunpowder in ten parts, one session per month, and get our main H-E campaign as close to Epic as possible. I want to play more, write more, and - most important of all - submit more. This month is a bit of milestone for me, as I've got my first published article coming out in Dungeon magazine! It's really given me the kick I need to take this stuff more seriously, so here's hoping you'll stick around for the ride.

So. Thunderspire. Thus far all we've done is re-imagine a few of the NPCs. Now it's time to take the bull by the horns and look at the adventure as a whole. As far as encounters go, I think it's got some of the best so far. You'll have a fun job converting everything over to MM3 maths, but beyond that it's all pretty cool, especially the Well of Demons. No, the biggest problem, I think, lies with the story.


As written, you've effectively got three "acts". The first ends at the Chamber of Eyes, where we learn that the McGuffin (the captives), has been taken to the Horned Hold. The second act takes us from the Horned Hold to the Well of Demons. However, the link into Act 3 ("Interlude 2") is somewhat clumsily shoehorned into this section. Paldemar - this dude we know nothing about - decides to destroy us, because "we could pose a threat". When we take the fight back to him, the chances are we'll miss his big plan completely. After all, the only clue seems to be a bull's head floating in a vat...

When I played this, I kept the same sequence of locations, but shook up the story. My main changes were:

• The captives are now Lord Markelhay's daughter and her servants. Sure, it's "Rescue the Princess", but it adds a whole lot more gravitas to the chase.
• The enemies are the Mages of Saruun themselves. For years, they have been trying to unlock a door at the heart of the labyrinth, and now they hope to trade Markelhay's daughter for the key.
• Behind the door is, you guessed it, a primordial. If they manage to open it, all hell breaks loose.    

I'll be the first to admit it's not particularly original, but in my defence I was looking for that "classic D&D" feel. Not to say it doesn't have a few neat flourishes - final battle in a chamber containing a moving map of the labyrinth made from smoke? Yes, please!

Anyway, see what you think. I like to think it holds together better as a narrative, at least. 

Lost in the Labyrinth: Brugg Na Brogg

"What yoo lookin' at, Hooman?"

Brugg really needs to be an Elite. Given his role, he's likely to end up getting in the faces of most parties, but as written he doesn't really pack a punch at all - he's just a bog-standard ogre. I'm glad my group never faced him in combat, as they'd have flattened him in seconds. The Brugg you see below uses Monster Manual III maths, with a few custom power combinations I've had fun with before. His goblin lickspittles are inspired by the blue thieves from the Golden Axe video game: whack them, and they'll drop coins. Here though, that property comes with a nasty twist...

As can be seen from the flavour text, Brugg has a bit of an inflated ego - and a soft spot for pretty girls. When we played, we had a lot of fun with Brugg's leering approaches, his bride-to-be's attempts to delay their marriage, and the clever way she turned him against the mages. Hopefully you'll have similar fun if you use him as such in your games. Should it come to blows, Brugg and his six goblin lickspittles equate to a level eight encounter for five players: a suitably tough fight for this adventure.

HEAD ENFORCER: BRUGG NA BROGG 

The hulking ogre Brugg Na Brogg works as head enforcer and master tax collector for the Mages of Saruun. Accompanied by his scampering tide of goblin lickspittles, Brugg is a hated figure within the Seven-Pillared Hall. Those who dare call him “two bites”, as he always takes two cuts of every profit: one for the Mages, and another, smaller cut for himself.  When accompanied by the masked Ordinator Arcanis, such hatred turns to dread, for this means that Brugg has been ordered to kill, and someone shall soon pay ultimate price for defying the Mages of Saruun.    

Brugg is more intelligent than your average ogre, and years of collecting taxes have earned him a measure of street smarts. In fact, Brugg’s status, and the trust the Mages supposedly invest in him, has given him a warped, elevated sense of self worth. Brugg believes he is the “Hero under the Mountain”, and as befits a hero, he requires the finest foods, lodgings, silken sheets for his cot – and a beautiful bride. In this last respect he has yet to find a suitable candidate, so any pretty female who enters the Hall may find themselves on the wrong end of his amorous approaches.

Thankfully, Brugg isn't looking for a breeding partner. Instead, his lover is required to wash him, comb his knotted hair, and swoon over him in public. Brugg is amenable about the terms of their arrangement, but only to a point: for example, his bride may be granted some time to herself, or can perhaps buy her way out of certain responsibilities, but defy him and he’s liable to bite her head off.  Even so, those looking for protection within the Hall, or hoping to spy on the Mages, could find the partnership advantageous… 

Brugg's lickspittles are also an oddity. Whereas most goblins can't count above three (with anything above that just being "many"), these inbreeds possess an uncanny ability to count coins. Fill their hands with gold, or scatter silver on the floor before them, and they'll value it in a heartbeat. Brugg uses them to verify payments and carry the loot back to his customhouse. For their own part, the goblins despise him, but are too afraid to show defiance: when Brugg acquired them, he made a show of eating their seventh brother in front of them as a warning. 

Loot, glorious loot!

Ooo, look! This pic is a sneak preview from "Halls of the Dead King",
Beholder Pie's first free adventure. More on that in the New Year! 

Come in, sit down, and help yourself to a glass of mulled wine. I'm taking a break from my "Lost in the Labyrinth" articles to make a contribution to the blog carnival over on Daily Encounter. They're hosting a series of articles on loot, so here's hoping they'll pick up on the article below and copy it over. At least, I think that's how it works. I'm new here.

So, without further ado:

TREASURE WITH A TALE

“There comes a time, thief, when the jewels cease to sparkle, when the gold loses its luster, when the throne room becomes a prison, and all that is left is a father’s love for his child.”

King Osric, Conan the Barbarian (1982)

What adventurer does not dream of the glittering treasure hoard of the dragon? Piles of gold, jewels, and enchanted items:  the lost relics of ages long forgotten.  It’s not for nothing that such an image currently sits on the cover of the Dungeon Master’s Guide.

Yet it’s interesting to note that in history as in legend, treasure often means more than just gold. In ancient Britain, kings and chieftains would commission fine jewellery from the Mediterranean, to be worn as a display of wealth, status and majesty – even carried to the grave.  In Rome, rings were worn to denote rank, with sumptuary laws dictating the metals you were entitled to wear. Other cultures bind their faith into precious metals and stones. In Islam, for example, it’s considered taboo for men to wear gold. In short, for as long as treasures have been crafted, people have ascribed meaning to them.  

In our games, such wondrous relics most often end up as plain old loot: “fluffy currency”, if you like. Players have been conditioned into dividing their treasure into just two categories: magic items and bankable loot (which most often goes towards buying more magic items).

DM: “You hold a set of jewelled nesting dolls, each crafted in the image of the goddess Erathis, one made of jade, another of ivory, and a third made of onyx”.

Player: “Nice. How much are they worth?”

DM: “As a set, about five thousand”.

Player: “Sooo... shall I just add that in gold to the treasure sheet?”

We need to stop treating treasures as fluffy currency, and start viewing them as an opportunity for story.  Let’s take The Hobbit as an example: whilst the book introduces magical treasures like the One Ring, Sting and Glamdring, ultimately it’s the Arkenstone that drives the story. This vast gemstone means more to Thorin than mere wealth: it represents heritage. It’s an heirloom, a symbol of office for the King under the Mountain, and Thorin will do anything to recover it.

The following tables are intended to get you thinking about treasure as an engine for story. Once you’ve rolled to determine your treasure, roll again for a hook, and then for a benefit. If we’re lucky, adding properties like these to our treasures will encourage our players to treat them as more than just cash stamps.

Lost in the Labyrinth: Surina

My motivation for redesigning Surina and Darkseeker was to give them powers that accentuate a defining trait. Darkseeker's a werewolf, so he gets lupine powers. Mezzothraxia's presence on the battle map reminds us that Surina's made an infernal pact.

Focussing characters around a single mannerism, talent or "schtick" is something I picked up from work. When I write a bio now, I always start with something like "Noah, the Nervous Professor". That way our artists have a strong theme to work around. Add too many traits beneath that header, and the concept can get muddied.

When designing NPCs, try gearing powers around their schtick. If they're cowardly, give them a power that makes them retreat when certain triggers occur. If they're brash, it keys off overwhelming odds. Determine what makes them different, and then bring that out on the table. Guaranteed, your characters will be more memorable. 

COMPANION CHARACTER: SURINA

The Seven-Pillared Hall is loud with whispers. Grimmerzhul spies wrest knowledge from their Deepgem rivals, while House Azaer and the Mages of Saruun speculate in secret on the Underdark markets. To prosper, one must learn to pan truth from a river of rumours. In this matter, nobody is more valued than Surina of the Guttering Flame.

Surina operates as a knowledge broker, moving like a wraith from the Taphouse to the Halfmoon Inn, and through all the stalls between. What she doesn't learn first-hand comes to her from others. Guildsmen trade rumours with her like-for-like, and beggars bring her scraps to mull on. For the broker, the returns are worth more than the expense. These days the Grimmerzhuls come to her first, as do the Azaers. A single, well-placed lie, and they'll turn against each other like dogs... 

Surina's Secret
Unknown to the denizens of the labyrinth, Surina heads the Guttering Flame, a militant splinter of the church of Erathis. To the Flame, the Underdark represents a hand poised beside the candle of civilisation, ready to snuff it out at a moment's notice. Those who deal with the darkness invite oblivion, and must be destroyed. Having infiltrated the Seven-Pillared Hall with her brethren - a half-dozen cultists posing as beggars and market traders - Surina is playing the long con. She's worked her way into a position of influence, and now hopes to bring down the Hall by seeding a war between the dealers. She's gambled everything on this - even her own immortal soul. Her daring pact with Asmodeus has brought more than power; it's given her the perfect cover. With her hated imp on her shoulder, even the traitorous Drow trust her.

Only the Mages of Saruun remain inscrutable. Surina cannot advance her plans until she knows their weaknesses, and she'll do almost anything to find out what they are. If the PCs have an opportunity to move against the mages, Surina joins them in a heartbeat.

Introducing Surina
When Surina hears of their arrival she makes it her business to learn everything she can about the PCs. If their objectives are just, she may even approach them with an offer of aid. Surina makes a powerful but dangerous ally: few know better how to wring the hall's secrets, but cross her and she'll make their stay very uncomfortable indeed.

Irrespective of any deal, the PCs can always call upon Surina's services as a knowledge broker. For a bag of 200 gold, she'll provide the answer to any one question: the location of the Bloodreaver's secret hideout, for example, or a backdoor into the Grimmerzhul trading post. For 10 gold, Surina can sell the PCs a rumour (roll a D10 and consult the table to the right). Whether these actually bear fruit is up to you.

Lost in the Labyrinth: Terrlen Darkseeker

H2: Thunderspire Labyrinth has been the best adventure so far for my group. I loved the Seven-Pillared Hall, its characters, the labyrinth that surrounded it, and the clash of cultures it suggested. This said, the adventure itself does require some tweaking.

"Lost in the Labyrinth" will be a short series of columns about improving the adventure. I'm going to take a closer look at some of the NPCs, examine the Seven-Pillared Hall in more detail, maybe even have a go at suggesting an alternate plot arc for the adventure.

We'll see what happens.

COMPANION CHARACTER: TERRLEN DARKSEEKER

Nobody knows Saruun Khel better than Terrlen Darkseeker. For decades, this hard-faced hunter has earned his keep as a guide, leading caravans down to Silvershield hold, to the dark city of the Grimmerzhul, or anywhere between. His prices may be steep, but he's renowned. Those who travel beyond the safety of the Seven-Pillared Hall are always advised to speak to him first.

For 200 gold, Darkseeker can lead the PCs anywhere within the Labyrinth – even fight

alongside them. In keeping with the Companion Character rules from Mordenkainen’s Magnificent Emporium, he should be controlled by one of the players during combat. Outside of combat, he remains under DM control.

Good luck getting more from him than business, though. Darkseeker comes across as a cold soul, always on edge, with a fire in his eyes. Before hiring him, players must swear to obey his rules: be silent, be alert, and never stray from his path. Defy him, and they’ll quickly find themselves alone in the dark...

Darkseeker's Secret

Those who follow Darkseeker risk more than they know. Two years ago, while exploring one of the labyrinth's many lost vaults, the hunter was subjected to a terrible curse. Darkseeker didn't know what had happened at first: all he knew is that for days afterwards he would awaken with blood on his hands, and hazy memories of violence. Now, at last, he understands.

Whenever Darkseeker ventures too close to the chamber, or the full moon shines upon the land above, he transforms into a frenzied werewolf (use the stat block from the Monster Vault). Over time, he's learned to control the curse as best he can, even exploit it. The turnskin venom that poisons his bolts is in fact his own saliva, and when he wishes, he can even force his own transformation. If he knows he's going to change beyond his will, Darkseeker wraps himself in silver chains until the fever has passed.

To uncover the curse, PCs may hear one too many stories about caravans lost in his care, or witness him surreptitiously licking his bolt-heads. He may refuse to work on the full moon, or refuse to venture anywhere near the chamber that cursed him. At worse, he may even transform in their presence.

If they prise the truth from him, Darkseeker will beg the PCs for help (see Echoes of Thunderspire Labyrinth, from Dungeon 156). Succeed in lifting the curse, and they'll have earned an ally for life.