Thought Experiment: Kinetic Barriers

Hello Blogosphere, t'is proof I'm among the living yet.

Anyhoo, for a while now, I've been pondering the several approaches one could take to mechanically representing force fields, personal shields, barriers, what have you. Some of this thinking first came from thoughts on how shields would come into play for a Mass Effect campaign setting, but would it become too fiddly to track, especially on multiple opponents. So it became the question; what could I do?

An obvious, easy and unobtrusive direction would be the 'plus' bonuses to armour, as if magical in classic DnD, subtracting from the foe's attack throw. It keeps things simple and abstract, and what would be better in an abstract game?

But that was not the direction I sought, no. The players needed to really feel the effects of a kinetic barrier, especially when fighting the Big Bad Evil Guy of the Week, or other tough opponent. And simply 'missing' their attack rolls round after round makes players feel cheated, as if their attacks simply do an absolute zero.

The first real attempt was instead, borrowed almost whole cloth from the game mechanics of the old skirmish/RPG game, Laserburn. In that game shields could negate the damage of a certain number of attacks (20) before failing, and they had the chances of failing each round anyhoo, just from the volume of attacks inflicted. Explosions could outright destroy or knock out shields. For simplicity's sake, I modified this to three grades of shield: 3 hits, 6, and 9 hits. Explosions took out shields 3 in 6 times. If knocked out, a shield would recharge to 1/2/3 hits at the end of each round with 1/6 chances. Simple right? Mechanically obvious, and dramatic when the Referee exclaims as shields burst and flicker out of existence. But one problem. Lots of logistics to manage for the Ref if a swarm of mooks have shields.

The above idea would work quite well if used in settings where such technology were very rare and/or expensive, especially if it's alien artifact tech.

So where'd I go next? I tried another obvious approach: shields as supplementary "Hits". And made up six levels of shielding, each recharging 1/3 Hits every round not attacked. These escalated by: 3/6/9/12/15/18. The last two levels were reserved for vehicles or shielded pieces of terrain/equipment. Sounded good, but still the logistics in a multi-man-melee bothered me.

Some other mechanics I have thought of follow:

-shield level blocks that number of individual dice of damage until depleted.
-shield blocks 1 damage per die by shield level.

The last two work particularly well for the firearms damage matrix I made, based somewhat on the number/hits inflicted from ranged attacks, from games such as Fokker and Chainmail's archery kills. However, Character Rank + weapon skill improve numbers as opposed to how many people fire. There are four small matrices thus for different types of damage potential.

So, in such a situation, what would you, the reader, do?

Returning from the hills...

... I came baring a trite little beast known as Pathfinder. Yeah, that game.

Been preparing to move off and away, but in the meantime my little group introduced me to Paizo's game by way of a burlap DM-flavoured sack.

A curious game; similar to 3rd/3.5 in most aspects; but it does away with some of my gripes for the aforementioned games, all but one. One problem that always remained: the hurdles and hoops the Referee must contort through. It's a good game for players, but in my experience, an unnecessary mess for the one running it. Challenge Ratings, point budgeting, and what-have-you.

The majority of my DM/GM/SM/etc. experience comes from the older games, systems, and from even the retro clones. These (as I'm sure I needn't explain) games were quite easy to implement new races, creatures and stuff worth Experience Gain without issue. Especially after a good read through 'Encounter/Adventure' design philosophy as it appears in the Three Little Brown Books, and from forum personalities (mainly WaysoftheEarth from OD&D Discussion Board!). Stocking environments was easier than ever, as was determining damage and EXP gain by Hit Die, and other concepts.

Returning to stat-generating and skill-giving of every damn creature, after such an absence is very disheartening. No longer can I just make something improvised-like and still be fair about it, and quite frankly, it appalls me that I can *will* get caught making things up by the players in the newer systems. Because they can just as easily point out conflicts with modern encounter design, and even argue total Challenge Ratings with me, and act as if I've cheated them. Hell, I remember being chewed out for having to make up stats for monsters (lost their statistics PAGE) as battle was provoked, and barely survived to flee. Not that attacking an entire cult of Hero-grade (level 4+) Druids had anything to do with it.

The Encounter (read: Experience) Budgeting especially pulls my nails. It should be the Referee's own right to place down a troll cave (compleat with defenses), even if the 1st level party thought it was a good idea to walk past the warning signs.

Diggin' that they got rid of those ludicrous level adjustments for Player Characters.  There's too many by-the-book types (of the younger generations anyhoo) and, what if someone wants to play a Lizardfolk or some other creature at Starting Level 1? Wouldn't happen in 3rd/3.5, no sirree!

That is all.

To the Gods, Uncaring and Bemused.

Where then have we gone, to abandon the oracle; hoard the boons; and cast out the traditions of cleromancy? Do we no longer seek mysticism and atmosphere? Is there a wanting that consumes us that ever dance to the clatter of knuckles, that we would rather turn to unsavory practices of fudging and dishonesty? Surely not!

Roll yer' damn dice and leave them were they fall! If it's the tank's day to be eaten by a grue, than so be it; and swift Char-Gen to those now dead.

Consequently, random tables are lovely things.

With a tip of the palm...

...And the roll of a die.

Traveller was always a system and a setting that appealed to me, yet always out of my grasp. It's very hard to play a game if you're the only one that wants to. But what really kept me was how the game played. I like my big bag of many polyhedrons, don't get me wrong, but the call of the days when only the six-sided die consisted my collection is strong. I've always been a great fan of rolling multiple dice in place of single, higher-value dice; it gives better results. Do take note however, that I'm not big on absurd rolls like 12d4 or 20d6, yikes!

From every mechanic, generation table, character statistic and action with randomized outcome, one would need nothing but the common die in classic Traveller. From shooting a walking bulls-eye to succeeding at one of the character's few trained skills, only two sixers were ever needed. This created a bell curve of success, which tied in fluidly with the human-centric feel of Traveller, in that we as squishy organisms usually only do so well, on average. The average roll of '7' guaranteed that characters still maintained a measure of success with basic skill levels. Because generally, we succeed at things we know (flat DC is usually '8'), while still allowing room for potential failure. A stark contrast to the very random nature of rolling a single d20.

Further on, we see the system continuing its variety of uses for the pairing of 2d6 with generation charts. Using one die in the tens, and another in the ones, to the similar effect of 2d10 for determining percentile successes. Each of these tables generate 36 possible results, which while small compared to 100 for 2d10, this again allows for a bell curve effect. The result places more common encounters nearer the center of the curve. So instead of truly random encounters in the sense, we can see an increased chance of more common mooks arising with more interesting and rare things turning up with a probability to match.

Maybe I'm still just too much of a wargamer at heart, but the simplicity of using fewer varieties of polyhedron while still maximizing their potential can be just as fun as throwing pyramids and buckyballs about the tabletop.

Character Skill versus Player Skill

While many blogs have already discussed and dissected what both 'character skill' and 'player skill' are, lets look at why they're different and why they're also used differently.

As most that play just about any version, mutation or blatant rip of D&D know, in the beginning the game gave characters statistics of their raw potential, some perks and abilities that differentiate the classes, and very specific character skills for the thief. Beyond this more rules-light appearance, characters would go on adventures, relying heavily on the goodwill of the dice gods and the mental skills of the player, and hopefully wouldn't die as a result. This approach let the faculties and imaginations of the players steer their destiny, and often led to moments of "outsmarting" or "besting" the DM and his well-thought-out encounters and puzzles. It also lead to a large number of retarded things that players have become infamous for to those inside and out of the hobby.

On another end, we encounter the later editions that bring new light and focus on character skills. This focus became so acute that eventually the rules systems themselves became intricate and complicated, pushing out player skill, where suddenly the character needed to invest time and thought to allow themselves certain abilities not readily available at level one. Suddenly Tarzan needed to take the feat Brachiation just to get around, and even then he had to roll against a difficulty class, or hit the nearest tree trunk. Whether intentional or not, the realm of pen & paper seemed to be turning the way of the new-wave video game role-play.

So, do you find one to be better than the other? Regardless of what side of the fence you lovely readers may sit, I will take a sledgehammer to said fence. Both of these approaches have their uses and the most obvious use, to me, is the perceived value of education present in the game, and its setting. When playing D&D I enjoy knowing I won't be made to roll for every 5 feet of rope I climb, for fear of the eventual and impending critical failure of a '1' of the d20. And when playing Star Frontiers I'm without worry of the percentile roll for one of my character's skills; it's easy and straight forward. Both of these settings mentioned and the skills presented cover two different areas; climbing rope is not beyond anyone with bodily strength, but writing a program into a science fiction computer requires knowledge and training, where still yet such a task comes with the chance of human error. Even without rush it can be as simple as one too many letters in a string of code that crashes the system.

So what do I think? A proper balance of both player and character skills makes for a good system when it pays attention to the setting. Characters are only as perceptive as their players are because they rely so heavily upon direction, while the character may be more fluent in conducting major surgery on alien species that the player could not even begin to comprehend their anatomies. Dungeons & Dragons is (generally) placed in a realm where knowledge is as primitive as medieval (or renaissance) times, where much went to faith, and common sense was the measure of the day, and is a skill that only players bring to the table. Star Frontiers is a universe where technologies easily surpass our modern world (zeerust aside) and the characters themselves bring the skills to the table. This is why they play different, but still both utilize some of one and more of the other category of skills.

Curses to the Cursed!

Reading through some of 'The Book of Marvelous Magic' earlier rekindled a pet peeve of mine: cursed items in fantasy role-play. Why, say you? Simple: they're nothing but a dick move by the DM unless handled properly.

Now before we get far I want to point out that I have nothing wrong with the idea of the cursed item, but rather how it is implemented. Just like any good magic item, a good cursed item needs to have a reason for its existence. Otherwise it is little more than DM fiat and the source of sour expressions turning to the crook behind his screen.

Furthermore is the cursed item a dick move when we have this item not only "just" in a pile of assumed loot, but it also appears exactly like a very useful and beneficial magical artifact. Sure, this is a fun lure for your resident meta-gamer, but there is no reason for it to imitate another object, if only to make player characters suffer.

In my worlds, even if the players lack a wizard or other source of discovering, or recalling the lore of magic items, I will refrain from placing any magical object in the world that doesn't have a reason for existing. It could be a simple sentence of description for a minor thing, or a good paragraph dedicated to the wizard, Pelacelcus the Dimple-Foot and his need for a ring of martini summons. But all the same, there is essence to the object, and not just a convenient/inconvenient item drop.

But what this means for cursed items is a reason for why they are cursed to begin with. Perhaps they were mundane possessions in times passed, later saturated with hateful magicks in an ancient battle against a mage. We could even apply this logic to items that appear as others to explain their dastardly trickery. And maybe yet, some of these items aren't truly cursed in the sense, but act as so when wielded or in possession of those that shouldn't have such things. Like Sauron's One Ring.

Or yet still, a small number of these evil objects were simply made to cause havoc for the victims of circumstance. Like a necklace of strangulation, or barrel of poverty. These are the lamest excuses for killing characters ever; a player should be the death of themselves, not the determination of the one other player, the DM.

Maybe it's just 'cause I'm not the sort that uses lurkers above and floor and wall mimics, nor executioner's hoods, and am rather conservative in my application of killer bed sheets?

Disruptive Force and Criticals

Following the trend of providing a look into how I handle hit points, attacks, and general bodily-harm, we now turn to the tactics of 'called shots', or as I prefer, 'disruptive force'.

In systems, where they are utilized, the 'called shot', "aimed shot" or other, is the focused effort of a character to maximize and severely hamper his opponent through a high-risk, high-reward method of taking a full-round action, or simply a -4 to hit in combat, or other similar variation. If successful, results can be anywhere from boosted, doubled or tripled damage that is basically an alternative to rolling a critical hit. The benefit of a called shot however, is that the caller can specify which area of his opponent's body he chooses to strike. Which can have dire consequences to encephalized beings when head-shots are landed, or chins are smashed on ball-chineans.

Now what does that mean for my system with its version of hit points? Dirty fighting: elbows, groin shots, eye-jabs, and sprained or bruised limbs. Similar to Third Edition and newer's -4 in combat for unarmed strikes, the character between his many thrusts per each six-second round takes the effort to land an unpleasant blow against his foe. Damage is often doubled of normal attack/weapon damage for the attacker, as it is assumed s/he would use their preferred method of reducing his foe's abilities, hastening the opportunity for a killing blow. It may be smashing the haft of a pole-arm, decking with a sword pommel, head-butts, knees to the kidneys, and other injuries that are more painful than truly harmful.

Compare to called shots with fire-arms, which are instead treated as damage directly to a character's CON score, or monster HD. This works well as a way of explaining why fire-arms do comparatively unimpressive hit point damage to melee weapons in role-playing games. That 2d4 damage pistol doesn't look so piddly when it lands a called shot, now doesn't it?

As mentioned before, criticals are rolled for on critical charts that I keep stuck to the DM screen. One of the table results is full normal attack/weapon damage directly to a character's CON score. When this result affects monsters, the attack instead outright kills anything with a HD equal to half or less of the attack's damage. Everything else is generally larger monsters under the jurisdiction of hit points as physical damage threshold, and will instead suffer a number of six-sided dice in damage equal to the maximized attack (with strength modifiers). So a weapon that deals 1-8 damage in the hands of a barbarian that also deals 3 additional damage based on his strength, will outright kill anything with 5 HD or less, or will deal 11-66 damage to 6 HD+ beasts. This is one of (usually) 12 results on the criticals table.

Building Better Blades

An idea I've always fancied for representing "masterwork" and other such high-quality weapons is something more dynamic than a simple +1 to hit. Because while in theory, a masterwork weapon may be easier to wield and use, or aim, I was never very keen on the constant and infinite scalability of modifiers in Third Edition and newer. It just seems too lazy and repetitious.

So instead, my idea is that in place of adding a 'to hit' modifier, that the masterwork weapon, rather shift how it deals damage when it hits. Take for example, a weapon that normally deals 1d8 damage by itself, will deal 2d4 damage as a masterclass weapon. This allows weapons to deal greater averages in damage, which if using hit points similarly to how I do, this still works out as making it easier for the attacker to hit. If only because the attacked need dodge harder to avoid a lethal blow, wearing themselves out faster.

And if nothing else, it just makes for more dynamic weapons; though the potential for making attacks tedious becomes a possibility for weapons that already use two dice in attacking. As an advantage for magic-scarce games, the fighter can have a slightly better sword without it having to be a +1 or better magic sword.

Now How to Lose Hit Points!

Instead of sleeping I decided I should throw this next bit up too.

Now where we had previously left off was discussing my view of hit points and how they work, along with what happens when unfortunate adventurers and mooks run out of them. So, naturally, we must figure out how to go from the prior to the latter.

While I prefer one method of handling hit points, the game itself or even the players may ultimately determine what is what and where. For example, games like Metamorphosis Alpha and Gamma World both assume hit points are a character's physical capacity to survive damage, so we usually would stick to that when playing those. But when I'm having my way, a character's hit point total is divided in half. Monsters, however don't apply to this rule, unless they're hominids.

One side of this division represents a character's ability (in a combination of the facets mentioned last post) to completely avoid damage in combat. Any damage suffered to this value will completely generate post-encounter after five minutes rest.

The second part of hit points represent the character slowing and tiring as they once again avoid any meaningful injury, with the worst damage being light nicks, glances, and blows completely deflecting off or dragging along armour without harm. Despite this, the character is still not surviving injury with this other set of hit points in the standard sense, but is only fatigued enough to take minor superficial damage that at worse makes a conversation starter. The catch with this second value however, also as a way to balance the automatic regeneration of the first number, is that it regenerates like hit points traditionally do, based on the system being played. Which gives magical healing spells and potions the illusion of being more potent.

On the subject of critical hits and massive damage, my system turns away from hit points, as they do not represent physical damage threshold for characters. Instead, a critical is a roll on the critical chart, with the potential of maximum attack/weapon damage directly to a character's Constitution score, which is indeed threatening. Similarly, falling damage is dealt as 1d4 damage to Constitution per 10 feet, with a 2d10 roll against current CON or get knocked unconscious afterward.

Featuring Hit Points, and Having None!

Perhaps for all it is a completely different idea and representation, or simply abstraction, but for I, the concept of hit points is very much so the concept of 'not-getting-hit points', as someone else so eloquently put it. Furthermore, I like the idea of "death" at zero hit points. Lower down shall I expand my opinions.

For a hero that can't possibly become more sturdy with each level earned, the hit point, by itself is a representation and manifestation of the individual's luck, die-hard attitude, combat aptitude, and quite possibly his standing with the gods. This model goes well with the chaotic action of battle and oracular nature of the dice, and by their extension, the gods themselves. This is why fighters, followed by clerics, have better hit dice than other characters, as each demonstrates strong points in some of these elements, with backing in the others. Compare the unnatural and unlawful (in the stealing and meddling sense) ways of thieves and magic-users for why they don't fare as well. Through this angle, note I did not mention dexterity; this is a no-word. Dexterity already is used in a different abstraction known as Armour Class, or why mooks can't hit shit.  Contrast with the hit points of a war elephant, or other massive and non-maneuverable beast, that is instead a value of physical fortitude.

Moving on to our other topic: zero hit points, or why I didn't cry for mommy. Completely disregarding Third Edition and newer, hitting zero hit points, as the rules read, meant dead. Now, why is that so? And how is it that if hit points measure a character's ability to avoid injury, that they're just plain out dead and dead at the total of the dreaded big '0'? Simple: it's easy to kill someone, or at least think you've killed someone. We assume here that coming with a fantasy setting is often coming with a pseudo-medieval intellect. Something often considered very ignorant by modern Man's standards (which is pretty ignorant just by thinking that). Back in "Ye Aulde Adventurre Lande", medicine and physical know-how weren't exactly up to snuff, especially after the witch hunts destroyed hundreds of years of learned healing practices, and it was very easy to mistake someone for dead, especially if the healer wasn't all that knowledgeable in their field. Clerics can cast divine healing miracles like a Pez dispenser, but they're no physician, nor paladins with their magic fingers, and definitely not the man trained solely to kill! Those thought dead may very well perish from lack of attention, infection, or simply from being abandoned by the straining and hurting party. Even a proper alkaline poison might leave ya' stone dead-ish, but not in truth. All yerr frens know is ya' failed yer damn save!

So maybe this was insightful, and maybe it wasn't. But either way it's quarter after three o' the morn'. Peace out!

On Convincing Life Design

Whether decking out an alien world with life in a game session, or story, it is important to know how best to suspend disbelief when dealing with non-Earth organisms.

Life can come in literally any imaginable, and unimaginable, shape, size and disposition. Whether it's how we know it or don't, life is an adaptable beast where change is what allows it to survive. Yet, life isn't entirely random and prone to inconsistencies. Because while the evolution of beasts brings about random mutation, only certain elements survive and continue.

Nature keeps many patterns, and follows them to the letter. And we shouldn't forget this when designing alien life on distant planets. It might have worked in old pulp comics from yester-decade where the male sentient was a ghastly beast of many limbs and hazardous body, while the female member was attractive, if not lacking in non-humanity.

There is consistency, design and purpose behind life and how it comes about. Let us look at our own organisms of Earth. Here we would find that vertebrate life, while often very different from each other, all possess four limbs, a head with eyes and mouth, tails or remnants, similar bone structures, genetalia positioned at the rear, and etc. So unless we're designing a very pulpy sort of alien ecosystem, we can expect to see various examples of divergence that also feature convergent form and utility, but this shouldn't discourage one from making everything too "samey". Rather, we should see worlds with a lot of invertebrate creatures, each filling their niche in life, or on the other hand, perhaps various vertebrate things where each runs on four to six legs, with some species instead using the fifth and sixth limbs for manipulation.

Whether it's spines, body structures, psionic powers, wings, or what-have-you, consistency in form and pattern makes for standardized and believable life, while divergence and biodiversity makes for realistic life. Stay creative, friends!

Alternatively, you can just give me the finger and continue on with ant-men and their sensuous babe-queen. 'Cause fun is what counts in the end, and not necessarily dedicating too many resources to one facet of an adventure your railroad-hating players might not even run into.

Lovely cover illustration.

Just found this lovely dungeon over at the most interesting blog, Monster Brains. The cover to the book 'The Troll Book', by that Berenstain guy, 1980. Doesn't it just call out to the marauding Player Character in us all?

While you're at it, I suggest taking a gander at other posts over there. Lots of great illustrations and paintings from way back when, across multiple genres, that'll most likely prove inspiring for any manner of game or setting. If nothing else, it might be entertaining.

A Brief Look into Terrible Picnic Locations.

Well, it's not the most refined of pieces on solar development, however here is a small guide line I've written out for my group in the hopes I might get to be a player eventually in a science fiction campaign. I've tried to make it general and not too space-science-y for their use in what most likely won't be anything more than Star Wars-style planets anyhoo.

 Hazardous Environments

 Most planets are far from habitable, or at least extremely uncomfortable, for the average colonist. Many are lifeless, atmosphere-lacking rocks, or so extreme in their conditions that life as we know it might not even have a chance, no matter how hardy the organism. This is for you, the not-me-as-DM-for-once.

Primary Factors are generally those of a hazardous environment, where exposure is almost certainly death. Characters might get some leeway in expeditious corrective measures, though most often their chances are as slim as their environment is deadly. Being exposed to vacuum will not instantly kill someone, but getting a face-full of pressurized Venus is definitely the last thing they'll ever do.

Secondary Factors are those more likely to be survived, should exposure occur. These factors are more likely to be evident on more moderate planets that aren't quite right. With the exception of antiquated space suits, most feature auto-sealing countermeasures, or are easily patched in the event of integrity rupture.

Primary Factors

1. no atmosphere
2. very thin atmosphere
3. extreme atmospheric pressure
4. extreme temperature
5. heavily radiated
6. extreme gravity

Secondary Factors

1. dangerously saturated air
2. unbreathable air
3. dangerous micro-organisms/bacteria in air
4. poisonous elements in air
5. unsafe radiation levels
6. regular acid/sulfur rain

Planets without atmospheres are often smaller and possess lower gravity than most are accustomed to, and often are subject to massive amounts of unimpeded solar radiation and extremely cold temperatures during the night cycle. Asphyxiation is not fun.

A planetoid with a notably thin atmosphere might consist of breathable air, however there is never enough air density to breath, leading to hypoxia and death. These planets are often colder and subject to almost unimpeded solar radiation. Often the cause of receding atmosphere relates to the planet being remarkably close to a larger source of gravity or exposure to extreme solar radiation.

Extreme atmospheric pressure is caused by an overdeveloped atmosphere often laden with extremely high levels of greenhouse gasses, or the result of a very high gravity, such as the conditions of a gas giant. This environment is exceedingly dangerous, requiring the most advanced of protection systems. Failure of these systems can mean swift death.

Deep cold and exceeding heat both prove dangerous to any would-be adventurer. Depending on atmospheric conditions, either of these extremes can also accompany extreme pressure ranges. Exposure means quick painful death.

Most common among worlds that survive their parent star going nova, heavily radiated worlds often lack atmospheres and are devoid of life. Even in heavily shielded suits, people quickly die from radiation bombardment.

Extremely high gravity can crush and flatten man and machine alike, and is often accompanied by heightened atmospheric pressure. Low gravity is an impediment and often a cause of very thin atmospheres. While movement and physical exertion is often taxed in high-gravity worlds, higher speeds can prove especially dangerous in low-gravity conditions.

Dangerously saturated air is one that is technically breathable, however the overabundance of a not-normally-dangerous element in the atmosphere can effectively drown or suffocate people without proper breathing apparatus, within any number of minutes.

Unbreathable air is simply the result of an atmosphere that our bodies can not draw oxygen from. Asphyxiation is not fun.

On some primitive or overly-aggressive life-bearing worlds, there can be any manner or fungi, spores, virus, or airborne bacteria that cause anaphylactic shock when accidentally inhaled or exposed to through suit ruptures. Other effects might include sickness and infections only later apparent. This is the hazardous garden that looks welcoming...

Poisoned air contains elements naturally dangerous to our bodies with appropriate dosage. An overabundance of dangerous gasses and chemicals pollute air that might have almost been otherwise near breathable conditions. Gasmasks, or similar air filters, may suffice in allowing safe respiration to explorers.

While not as extreme as heavily-radiated worlds, others may possess thin ozone layers, or be exposed to radiation from a nearby star or other presence that can be harmful to unprotected individuals, though not necessarily to native life, assuming that the radiation levels aren't too high.

Atmospheric composition and conditions can lead to noxious concentrations of chemical acids and similar destructive compounds that pollute the environment, leading to acid rain and rapid corrosion. This environment can quickly wear out equipment, destroy materials, and kill living beings.