Trollgod’s School of Magic by Ken St. Andre

Trollworld itself is a magical place. It exudes a force called kremm that bathes the whole planet in magical energy. Lesser wizards and magical creatures are able to store a miniscule part of that force and use it to reshape reality.

That’s magic.

Greater wizards do not bother with storing kremm inside themselves–they manipulate the infinite force of the world directly, and thus can do far more powerful things. Greater wizards are indistinguishable from gods–limited only by their own intelligence and imagination. Fortunately, there aren’t very many of them around, and players will never be allowed to be greater wizards. The greater wizards are NPC manifestations of the Game Master.

Principles of Magic

The principles of Magic in Trollworld are:

1. If you can imagine a thing, you can do that thing.
2. The greater the change in reality, the more kremm, intelligence, and dexterity the spell will require.
3. If you don’t get the magic right, then you probably don’t get the magic at all. You usually don’t wind up with unintended consequences and rogue spells.
4. (You will notice I said probably and usually. I do things on a simple pass/fail system. Either you succeed and cast your spell, or you fail and don’t cast it. That doesn’t mean that another GM couldn’t look at the world differently and set up a system of partial successes or bizarre consequences for failure, but it isn’t how the rules are written right now.)
5. Practice makes better. Because there is an INT saving roll involved in each spell now, the player will always be gaining adventure points for casting magic. Those adventure points can be cashed in to raise any attribute, including INT, WIZ, and DEX–all of which will make the player wizard a better magician in time.
   (Note: Deluxe Tunnels & Trolls has removed the need to make a Saving Roll to cast a spell.)

Spell by Spell

While Take That You Fiend is indeed your most basic mage combat spell, in my humble opinion, it is not the most basic spell of all.

Discussion 1: Detect Magic

The basic ability, without which you are not a wizard, is to Detect Magic. This is so basic that we give it to wizards for free. It is like detecting air, an ability that we all have, but if the air changes we notice. If there was no air, we’d notice immediately. If the air is thin, we have trouble breathing. If kremm is low, the wizard has trouble casting spells. If the air stinks, we know it. That is like detecting evil magic. The wizard knows when magic is malevolent and harmful to life. That is what bad magic is. It harms you. If the air carries a delightful aroma, then that is like detecting good magic. Good magic is helpful magic. Everything in between is functional or neutral magic. Neither harm nor help is intended. The magic simply does something.

Trollworld is so full of magic that the wizard detects it all the time, just as we detect air all the time. We don’t think about it, and neither does he. When there is a sudden upsurge of magic, he notices. When the wind blows, we notice it.

Rogues and Warriors may detect magic but not even know they are doing it. Sometimes the magic in a place or object is so strong that even they feel it. Rogues have a Detect Magic spell–it simply focuses their mind so that they notice magic in a way they wouldn’t ordinarily notice it. It costs them concentration and 1 kremm point. If they had stayed in Wizards School, they’d be able to do it for free, automatically.

So, for a wizard to say I cast Detect Magic is redundant. If the G.M. is any good at his craft, he will tell wizardly players when there is magic in an area or object.
One thing needs to be mentioned. Just like incense can hide the odor of something foul or rotten, so too can the essence of magic be disguised or overwhelmed. Imagine a room with 100 magical artifacts in it. Of those 100, 3 of them will actively harm people. 5 will help people. The other 92 will just do stuff. Would our magic detecting wizard be able to immediately zero in on the harmful or helpful objects. No. The overwhelming ambience is functional, not evil. To find the evil ones, he would have to examine each object individually.

Does that make sense to you? The basic rule for T & T gaming is: Do things make sense? Within the context of the world, do things make sense? I maintain that they do.

Discussion 2: Take That You Fiend (TTYF)

When I’m writing T & T fiction, I always describe TTYF as a simple Kill spell. You aim, you visualize or call out your target, and if you make the INT saving roll to indicate you did it right, the target takes damage equal to the caster’s INT.

The spell can be cast at higher levels. The cost of the spell increases by the original cost per level, but doubles the effect of the level before it.

Thus, a L1 TTYF would cost 6 kremm and might do 12 points of damage.
A L2 TTYF would cost 12 kremm and do 24 points of damage.
A L3 TTYF would cost 18 points and do 48 points of damage.
A L4 TTYF would cost 24 points and do 96 points of damage, and so forth.

Discussion 3: Knock Knock

Knock Knock is a simple unlocking spell. How many times have we all played games where the game or the GM says something like: “The treasure chest is locked”. And we answer, “I’m a thief. I pick the lock.” And the GM says, “No you can’t pick the lock.” And we say, “I hit it with my axe and break the lock.” And the GM says no you can’t break the lock. You ask, “How can I open the chest?” The GM says you need the key. You say, “Where’s the key.” He says, “Nobody knows. You have to quest for it.” You say “Aaaaaaaggggghhhh!”

Well, T & T gets around all that with the Knock Knock spell. No simple lock should ever frustrate adventurers again–at least not if they have a wizard along.

Imagine your character as a thief. It’s one of the standard forms of hero in fantasy literature and gaming. Knowing a Knock Knock spell would sure be handy for such a character.

Knock Knock spells can be cast at higher levels. They simply have the effect of unlocking more difficult locks. Because once the idea of unlocking things by magic occurs to you, then the idea of locking things by magic should also occur to you. If you had a magical lock, and you didn’t want it opened by a simple Knock Knock spell, you would cast it at a higher level. Higher level magic always overrules lower level magic. Thus, a L2 Locktight spell would stop a L1 Knock Knock spell, but it wouldn’t stop a level 2 spell or 2 level ones cast in quick succession.

Magic Discussion 4: Oh There It Is

In dungeons, and even outside them, things are often hidden. One of my favorite dungeon gimmicks is the hidden door. In fact, I lay awake at night thinking up new ways to hide doors in dungeons. For example, put that hidden trap door in the bottom of a treasure chest, and then cover it with copper pieces. Ugh! Who bothers with copper piece? The fact that there is a secret room directly below might never be discovered.

Unless one casts Oh There It Is. Now hidden or invisible things show up in my favorite magical color–free xp to the first person to correctly say what that color is in T & T terms. Is the room too plain to be of interest? Time for an Oh There It Is spell.

Oh There It Is will also find invisible creatures. You might think there is something invisible in a room when you bump into it and don’t see it. Cast OTII and find out. It’s a very useful spell.

Magic Discussion 5: Call Flame

Wiz Cost: 7
Range: Touch
Duration: Instantaneous
Power Up: Yes. Deals 1 extra die of damage with each level increase.

This spell was added for the 7th edition. Back in the original T & T we were so focused on fighting and killing monsters that almost everything was a combat spell. And yet, the most basic function of a wizard from the dawn of time on is to bring fire to the people. Fire is an inherently magical thing. It’s not solid, liquid, or gaseous–although it’s more like a gas than anything else. Fire destroys, but fire also creates. And yet our wizards in the old days had to be at least 3rd level to cast blasting power of flame. So, the first thing a beginning wizard actually learns is how to Call Flame. How handy. You can do damage by simply reaching out and touching something, and you can set things on fire. I do think it’s the first thing a real wizard should learn how to do.

Download Ken St. Andre’s Trollhalla Press publications from DriveThruRPG.

Images Copyright Simon Lee Tranter www.simonleetranter.co.uk

A World of Your Own by Ken St Andre…

Devising a style of play in T&T by Ken St Andre From White Dwarf Issue 32 1982 by kind permission of Games Workshop

Of all the gaming articles I have ever written or ever will write this is probably the most important.

If I was the kind of person who could easily adapt someone else’s rules, T&T would have never been written. I would have struggled through and learned to play D&D no matter how poorly those original rules were phrased. If I can’t adjust to the rules of Messrs Gygax and Arneson, why should I expect you to adjust to mine?

Unlike Mr Gygax, who seems to feel that if you aren’t playing by the letter of the law in AD&D, then you really aren’t playing AD&D, I feel that T&T is your game and you can make it into whatever you want. In section 1.1 of the 5th edition T&T rules, I said, ‘T&T will require that you actively use your imagination, not slavishly follow a set of rules around a world not of your own making … the cardinal rules remain: adjust the system as you see fit to suit your own style of play’.

Over the past five years I’ve received quite a few letters from people who wrote to say how much they enjoyed T&T (and a couple who wrote to tell me what a complete asshole I am). Most of the people liked it because of its simplicity and open-endedness. I have met teachers who like the game because it is easy to teach (and doesn’t cost much), and they could use it in the classroom. Others have told me that they like the combat system because (a) it doesn’t take very long to get through and (b) you know when you can’t win which means you have to think and role-play your way out of sticky situations instead of fighting your way out.

Once you start playing T&T you are going to discover that the rules don’t have the kind of complexity that will require you to read and reread them. It’s going to get simple and easy and perhaps boring, unless you put something of yourself into it.

One way to handle that is to start the construction and evolution of your own world. In Phoenix I have had the help of a particularly good bunch of people in Bear Peters, Liz Danforth, Steve McAllister, Mike Stackpole, Paul O’Connor and others. Our world is called Rhalph (actually that’s just one continent) and we have built it into quite a thing with all the solitaire adventures set within it, not to mention GM adventures and references to it in the rules. But the catch is, dear readers, that unless you’re here in Phoenix, Arizona, playing with me and my friends, or unless you’re playing one of the T&T game products directly, you can’t play in Rhalph with all its complexity and history. You must play in a world, continent, or location of your own design.

And since you are designing a world anyway, why not use that opportunity to change the rules a bit. Let’s use combat as an example. A recurring problem for some players is the idea that both sides should be able to suffer damage in combat, no matter how mismatched they are. That giant bear may tear you to pieces, but at least you might hit it in the nose once or poke an eye out. Let’s further assume that you know about and like the system of percentage-based combat used in RuneQuest. There is absolutely nothing to stop you from using that as your combat system. Each character or monster would then have a percentage chance to hit with its weapon. Percentage dice would be rolled. If the chance-to-hit roll was made, then the damage dice would be rolled. Combat is still simultaneous (we didn’t borrow the concept of strike rank for this example) and fast, but now everyone has some chance, no matter how outnumbered. How long would it take you to teach that system to a new player? About two minutes, right. Let me make up an imaginary example of how that kind of combat would work. Glum, a dwarf, is armed with an axe (5 dice + 3 adds in damage). He has 10 combat adds of his own and a 50% chance to hit anything he swings at. Flamegusher, a dragon, has a Monster Rating of 200. (That means he gets 21 dice + 100 adds in combat every turn. Clearly, Glum doesn’t stand a chance against him in single combat). Flamegusher has a 65% chance to hit whatever he is fighting. The fight starts. With a howl of ‘Barroo Khazad!’ Glum rushes to close quarters swinging his axe. Flamegusher rears up and pours forth fire in the general direction of the dwarf. Percentage dice are rolled. Glum gets 38, within his percentage number to hit, and does his damage which comes to a total of 33 points. Flamegusher rolls 82 and misses the dwarf. His estimated 170 hits go nowhere and do nothing, and he takes 33 hits, reducing his Monster Rating to 167 (17 dice and 84 adds). This time Glum rolls a 49 on the d100 and Flamegusher rolls 02. Both have hit. Glum does an additional 35 points of damage (rolling just slightly better than last time) while the dragon applies 135 hits to the dwarf. That is the end of Glum. He is now toasted dwarf, but at least the fight was interesting while it lasted and Flamegusher has been substantially weakened should another dwarf come along.

All of the above has been by way of an example. I could come up with a dozen different combat systems, all more or less based on T&T combat, and surely you can do the same. If you don’t mind slowing the game down a little to account for a more complex combat system then go ahead and do it.

Another common complaint I hear is that T&T spell names are silly. I have various rejoinders for that, including a legend concocted by Mike Stackpole to explain exactly why the spell names are what they are. (It seems it is part of a plot by the wizards of Rhalph to disguise their true power making it seem laughable to the common people). Since you are creating your own T&T world, and you don’t like my spell names, why not change them to suit yourself. Why not take a couple of hours, rewrite the spell book and give all your players the revised spellbook for your world. Since this is a game we are playing, we have to break things down into nice little packages that we can manipulate. For example: let’s say Thimble the wizard has been asked to heal the wounds of Maladroit the warrior. Do you actually believe that Thimble is going to stand there making arcane gestures and yelling ‘Poor baby, poor baby, poor baby!’ at the top of his lungs. Not bloody likely! Probably Thimble will lay hands on Maladroit and silently transfer the healing magical energy without saying a word, concentrating instead on what is supposed to happen. In terms of game mechanics Thimble’s player says ‘I do a poor baby spell on Maladroit to heal 8 points of his wounds’. What could be simpler? Yet, if I were writing the scene as a fantasy story, I’d do it without ever mentioning the name or mechanics of the spell.

Let me give you just one more example of what I mean by ‘evolving a style of play’. Paul O’Connor is one of the most imaginative people I know. Lately Paul has created his own T&T variant world where he gets back to basics. Among the rules he has established for his world of Iron Bell is one that states that all characters must start out at first level in his world and develop solely within it. Another is that no character may have an attribute in excess of 50. In going with such a low power world he has tamed down his monsters considerably – a very tough orc might have a Monster Rating of 35. There are no incredible tunnel complexes littering the landscape at the will of semi-omnipotent wizards as there are in Rhalph. ‘Dungeon delving’ is an unheard-of profession. Doubtless, there are many other differences that I haven’t discovered yet – I’ve only played in Iron Bell once. This is the sort of thing I am advocating. Use the T&T rules to construct a world for fantasy role-playing that you are happy with. If you do it well enough, you can turn it into an article for publication, or possibly a playing aid for others.

-Best!

Ken St Andre
August, 1982

Reproduced by kind permission of Games Workshop
Visit the Games Workshop website.

H‘aaarrrggghhh!
Khenn Arrth

Visit the Trollgod‘s Blog

Dare to DARO by Dan Prentice

A guide to cunning stunts

Since the second role-playing game burst onto the scene in 1975, players have been using its flexible Saving Roll mechanic to perform dramatic stunts confounding Game Masters and their evil monsters.

This article offers some advice to the Tunnels & Troll GM who would like to get a handle on adjudicating the delver’s tricks; whether they are tripping monsters, bamboozling them, disembowelling them or throwing sand in their eyes. This advice assumes a working knowledge of the Saving Roll system.

I will finish by outlining some of the many possible stunts that clever delvers can try; that may give them some ideas for frustration of their GMs fiendish plans.

The advice given should be treated as a launch point for your own ideas. As Captain Barbossa so wisely said in a slightly different context: ‘They are not so much rules, as guidelines’.

The Three Elements of Stunting

Very much like Caesars Gaul was divided into 3 parts; I see 3 separate elements to a stunt.

1. How hard is it to perform?
2. How magnificent will be success?
3. How catastrophic will be failure?

Element #1: How hard is it?

When judging what level to set a Saving Roll at I use a rough rule of thumb to get me started. I set the Saving Roll at one level for every 40 MR that the monster has (or part thereof). The reasoning here is that Monster Rated foes have assumed attributes from their adds which increase by 5 every 40 MR (in the 7e rules). I then adjust it for the following factors

What kind of monster is it?

Is it speedy, sneaky, tough, slow, clumsy, stupid, clever, armoured? Does it have eyes that can be blinded? Will it fall over easily? If the delvers plan to attack its weak points then reduce the save level. If the delvers plan relies on fooling a Magus or bull-rushing a Living Statue, or some other (almost) impossible task then increase the save level.

Which attribute?

Consider the stat the delver wants to base the Saving Roll on (usually their best one) and how well that fits the situation. Luck is usually a fair default – the plan could always just work! If it is a good fit, leave the save level as is (MR divided by 40). If not increase the save level or insist they use a more suitable attribute or talent.

How clever is the plan?

Players can be clever, really clever, and think up stratagems that leave you gasping at their audacity. In these cases reduce the save level. You want to encourage their imagination. It’s fun for everyone.

How risky is the plan?

This is treated in more detail in the following sections, but essentially if what the delvers are attempting will result in a dramatic reversal of the combat maybe up the difficulty level. An example might be sweet talking a monster in the middle of combat into turning on his comrades. This will result in a greater shift of the tide of battle than even killing a monster outright. I would be looking to increase the save in these circumstances.

Element #2: How magnificent the success?

Ken St Andre‘s excellent solo ‘Arena of Khazan’ has many examples of stunts in combat and their impact on battle.

That source and others have been royally plundered for the following list of ways that a successful stunt can impact on the outcome of a combat turn. As a general rule I would say that the greater the impact success would have, the harsher the penalty should be the failure. When stakes are high, they should be high for everyone! Remember spells and missile weapons work like stunts; don’t make stunts easier or more effective than them.

Bonus dice/bonus adds to Hit Point Total

A simple increase in the number of dice rolled, or a bonus to the combat total. This is a low stakes stunt; maybe one delver distracts a monster while another delver gets a positional advantage.

Damage ignores enemy offensive total

This is a high stakes stunt. The delver is trying to change the terms of the battle and inflict their damage while avoiding the monsters attack. Snarfi the Mad hamstringing the giant in the fifth edition rules would be an example of this. This should be more difficult against fast, agile and multiple enemies and easier against slow ones.

Damage ignores enemy armour

A low stakes stunt. The delver is working on chinks in the enemy armour and will ignore any armour points on a successful roll.

Damage targets one enemy

A low stakes stunt – a delver is trying to draw a monster from the pack to fight it one on one, or all the delvers are focusing their attack on one of the monsters. Success will mean that any damage inflicted all goes on that monster

Disabling effect – enemy combat total reduced

A low stakes stunt, the delver is attempting to inconvenience the monster, blinding them or grappling them or disarming them or tying their shoelaces together. If it succeeds the monster will take a penalty to its attack rolls until it has overcome the delver’s obstacle.

Disabling effect – armour reduced

A low stakes stunt, the delver is attempting to remove bits of the enemy’s armour, by working loose a dragon scale or cutting the bindings of a vambrace. Success will mean that the monsters armour points are reduced for the rest of the combat. This probably will not work on a living statue!

Disabling effect – enemy less able to manoeuvre

A low stakes stunt. Generally used when delvers want to escape or otherwise force the monster to chase them. Caltrops, tied shoelaces, trip ropes are all examples of this. Reduces the monsters speed.

Manoeuvre – enemy/enemies removed from combat

A high stakes stunt. This may be a charm offensive or it may be using environmental hazards – pushing them into a pit, dropping a chandelier round them, lassoing them, manoeuvring them into the way of a rolling boulder. One way or the other that monster will not be contributing to the combat.

Clever GMs and players can probably think of other ways that their cunning plans can impact on their hapless opponents, but these provide a starting point for handling the outcome of a successful stunt.

Element #3: How catastrophic the failure?

I think there is a fine line to walk here. Stunts are a fun part of T&T, and it’s good to encourage them, but at the same time, if there are no significant penalties for failure then delvers will become blasé about them, and not feel that they are in an exciting life or death struggle. Actions as they say have consequences!

When considering the penalty to apply for failure take into account how risky the stunt is and whether it is for high or low stakes. Failing at a high stakes stunt usually means that, at minimum, the delver did not generate a combat total, and maybe other nasty things happened as well.

These are some of the penalties that can apply.

No contribution to combat

Whatever daring manoeuvre was planned, it didn’t work. The delver does not contribute his dice or adds. They and their comrades must take the damage from the monsters that may happen as a result. In a solo, it may well mean the delver just died unless they have stacks of CON and armour. I suggest you use this only for high stakes failures as it is a serious penalty

Reduced combat total

The manoeuvre failed, time was wasted, positioning was lost, and weapons were not brought to bear. Deduct dice from the delvers total, or rule they all roll 1, or deduct adds for one or more attributes, or halve the total for that combat round. All appropriate for low stakes stunts where it is clear the delver is still battling while manoeuvring.

Ouch!

The stunt failed and the delver got hurt, pulled a muscle, fell, passed through flames, and banged their head. The delver took some damage – often 1 point for each point that the save was missed by, or a d6 for each level of the save, or such other amount as makes sense. This effect be used in combination with one of the other penalties if it seems appropriate, or as the only penalty for failing at something acrobatic.

The Big Fumble

Something went wrong, and the delver turned klutz. They dropped a weapon, worked loose some armour, bumped into a comrade, tripped over, or banged their helmet over their eyes.

Both Runequest and Rolemaster fumble tables can be a useful source for this kind of entertainment! Basically the delver has suffered an ongoing penalty until they can put things right. Again, this can be used in conjunction with another penalty if it makes sense.

Remember: the game’s the thing

A lot of the advice above considers how to apply and adjudicate things in game terms. At the end of the day Tunnels & Trolls is a games system; but do not lose sight of the fact that it is a story that you are creating with your players. The aim of this article is to help you consider quickly the game impact of their actions so that you can concentrate on the dramatic narrative of adventurers leaping and rolling and wrestling with their enemies. You still make the decisions, the advice I give is just that, a framework to use or discard as you see fit.

An example or two

Now that we have discussed the principles, lets

See how they might work in practice.

Jack the Tank is facing 3 orcs with his comrade

Hoggle the Leprechaun. Jack is a big ,strong (Str 19) human warrior and has a kite shield. He wants to pay attention to all of the orcs but use his shield to bash one of the orcs in the face, stunning it and reducing its combat capability, while Hoggle darts back and forth trying to cut them with his big two handed poniard.

The orcs are each MR 30. They are not significantly more massive than Jack, and the GM judges that they are averagely brawny for their MR. That would imply a Save level of 1 (using the 40 MR/level benchmark). He also accepts that strength is an appropriate attribute for the feat. However Jack wants to do the stunt while maintaining a full battle stance, and with 3 of them it will be more difficult to pick his moment, so the GM rules save level 2.

Jack rolls a 9, for a total of 28, and so succeeds. The GM rules that smashing the orc in the face with the boss of the shield will score an additional 3 damage (the amount the save was exceeded by) to that orc, and that the orcs combat total will be reduced in half this round and next to reflect the stun. Jack otherwise calculates his combat total normally.

Had Jack failed he would have failed at a low stakes stunt using his shield, the GM decides that he would have lost the armour benefit of his shield for the round and halved his combat total from his weapon dice but not his adds, as rebounding from the Orc would have caused him to miss other opportunities.

Later on, in a battle with a fierce ogre, Hoggle, who is a very acrobatic leprechaun (talent acrobatics, Dexterity, 23) decides to run up Jacks back , take a flying jump to a chandelier swinging above the battle , saw through it so it lands on the ogre and then land on the ogres back. The ogre is MR 90.

Now the base save would be level 3 (Mr 90/40 round up). The ogre is big , but not particularly fast. The stunt is daring and with potentially a big pay off but is clever and imaginative, so the GM decides to leave it as a level 3 stunt. Acrobatics is appropriate.

If the save succeeds the GM rules that the ogre will take 3d6 damage straight to his MR, have his combat total halved while he brushes off the chandelier and that Hoggle will be positioned to do damage ignoring the ogres combat total next round while he stands on its shoulder.

If Hoggle fails then he will contribute nothing to the combat total this round and take damage from hitting the chandelier , falling down and bouncing off the ogre equal to the amount he missed by.

Hoggle rolls 7 for a total of 30 and executes the daring stunt by the skin of his teeth. Jack applauds!

Stunts, stunts and more stunts

• Attacking their vital spots
• Bantering
• Chandelier swinging
• Charming
• Commanding
• Cutting them so they bleed
• Deploying a shield wall
• Disarming
• Dropping things on other things
• Fast talking
• Feinting
• Grappling a monster
• Holding them at bay with polearms
• Jumping on big monsters and attacking them from behind
• Kicking sand in their face
• Pushing them into lava/down a well
• Riposte, use their strength against them
• Rolling underneath and disembowelling them
• Shield surfing down a stairway into the monster
• Shooting a rope holding a chandelier so it falls just so
• Spraying the monster with oil and igniting it
• Swarming a monster
• Taunting
• Tripping them into a pit
• Using a pick to make a hole in their armour

This far from exhaustive list owes its inspiration to many sources, but most relevantly to Ragnorakk, Toad-Killer-Dog, Porkbelly, Machfront, Profgremlin, Koraq, and Castiglione for their great ideas as expressed on the site at Vin’s Trollbridge.

This article was first published in TrollsZine! Issue 1.

That Frisson of Disgust, That Tingle of Fear

by Ken St. Andre – January 29th, 2000

Do you remember your first fantasy role-playing experience? Do you remember struggling to understand unfamiliar rules, the effort to fit your character into that of someone not yourself? Do you remember the dread with which you faced your first monstrous foe?

There has never been anything else quite like it, has there?

As you continued to play, you learned what to expect, and how to turn the tables on your Game Master. You learned how to balance a party of delvers to deal with all emergencies, how to anticipate traps, and trick monsters. You learned when to fight and when to talk. And as you learned all these things, your character found artifacts of power and grew ever more potent and dangerous.

And now that you are a 20th level wizard-warrior with a pet dragon capable of dishing out 6421 points of hit damage, spells capable of halting time or destroying a mountain, armor that can protect you from a nuclear explosion – now that you have achieved all your desires, don’t you find yourself looking around wondering where the next challenge will come from, and not finding any?

Wasn’t it better when you were just a first level wizard, agonizing over whether to throw a TTYF for 16 whole points of damage on that charging monster, and then hope the party can protect you until the combat is over, or whether to vorpal the blade of the best warrior and possibly strike a few blows of your own with the quarterstaff?

The truth is that we as human beings gain just as much pleasure from making small decisions and gaining small victories as we do from making earth-shattering decisions and saving the world. We are each our own world, and when you manage to elude that horde of MR-5 rats and scramble to safety, it is as good or better than causing the earth to open and swallow 20,000 attacking Ores. The first is just a personal triumph; the second example is history. But what do you as a person relate to more – personal triumphs or history?

There is no doubt that the longer you continue to role-play, the better a role-player you will become, and the more effective your character will be during the game. But when you can effortlessly wave your hand and destroy that hulking troll, the satisfaction is gone from the game. When you had to think fast, dodge, rig a landslide, lure it into a pit, the challenge and thus the fun was greater.

Which brings me to my point – low level games are more fun than high level games. Being powerless and fighting for your life is more of a thrill than being godlike and annihilating the opponent. High level games turn into bragging contests, where players and Game Masters try to top each other with one super feat after another. Low level adventures are more the kind of thing you could see yourself actually participating in.

And that is why, in over 25 years of role-playing, I have never actually developed a character higher than 9th level. High level characters are like gods, and if I need a god, I’ll make one up (Gristlegrim, Lerotra’hh) when I’m the Game Master. Or. I’ll ask the current G.M. to do a divine intervention.

Then again, if a beginning character dies, you can always roll up a new one – no great loss! But if a high level character gets toasted, then you lose months or years of role-playing labor. No wonder AD&D allows practically unlimited resurrection of dead characters. It’s a power trip, and once you accumulate a fair amount of power, you really hate to lose it.

The solution to having the most fun, of course, is to retire those high level monstrosities – turn them into NPCs. Perhaps someone will encounter old Drax the Demon Dodger and get his help on a particularly difficult mission that all those first to third level types had no chance with, but your emotional investment is not tied up in Drax. Instead, it’s with Itchy the Kid who’s just finding his first magic kazoo.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. High level games can be awesome, but low level games are a lot more fun! (Unless, of course, you’re some kind of sicko, who really gets off on the power trip of being able to squash mere mortal characters and NPCs like some kind of bugs. That can be fun, too – but it isn’t healthy!)

H‘aaarrrggghhh!
Khenn Arrth

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A Different Kind Of Encounter

Holymen, Weird Holymen, and Unholymen by ‘Mad’ Roy Cram

Once in a while the GM needs to get away from the Kill-The-Monster-Take-The-Loot kind of adventure encounter, and throw something different into the mix. One of my favorites is the encounter with those curious creatures found in strange places who do out of the ordinary things and don’t require combat.

Holymen, weird Holymen, and Unholymen can be found in nearly any kind of adventure setting: the woods, swamps, or any underground complex. They are, however, almost never met in towns or cities. Some are mendicant wanderers, but most will be found in some kind of humble hut or dwelling, or in a room in the ruins or the tunnel complex the heroes are exploring. They may be naked, but usually wear some kind of ragged loincloth or old robe. A few are bald, but most have long unkempt hair and beards (except the rare one who is a woman). Often they bear the marks or scars of self mutilation. They are seldom a pretty sight.

Party members who make a level one saving roll on Intelligence will have some knowledge of these beings and what they are capable of, but there is no way to tell which kind of Holyman they are unless you try to interact with them. If I am in a capricious mood I use a die roll to decide: d6:1-3 gives a Holyman; 4-5 gives a Weird Holyman, and 6 gives us an Unholyman. But my most frequent use of these people is as a sort of Game Master ex machina. Badly hurt or damaged parties can be rescued or succored by a Holyman. Cocky or unruly groups are more likely to draw the attention of the others. Delvers should never meet more than one of any of these creatures at a time.

Holyman

Holymen are the pious devotees of the god Omvar, a benevolent deity, who gives them special powers for their dedication to him. If they are attacked they simply teleport away.

If approached with respect, and given some money or food as offering, there is a d6:1-5 chance they will bless each person who makes such an offering as follows;

• If the character is injured or wounded, they will heal his wounds.
• If the character is sick or diseased, they will cure him of his illness.
• If the character is cursed, they will remove the curse.
• If a character has more than one of the above, the Holyman will fix the worst one – the most likely to cause the character difficulty.

If a character is not hurt, sick, or cursed, roll 1d6 and the following tables can be used to determine what they do for them.

1. add 1d6 to Con all additions are permanent
2. add 1d6 to one Prime Attribute
3. add 1d6 to Luck
4. casts a Zaparmor spell on the character
5. doubles all combat adds for 24 hours
6. roll again on table below

1. increase Strength by 1-3 points (1/2 d6)
2. increase Con by 1-3 points
3. increase Intelligence by 1-3 points
4. increase Speed by 1-3 points
5. increase Dexterity by 1-3 points
6. increase Charisma by 1-3 points

Only one blessing per character is allowed. Any attempt to bother or offend the Holyman will simply cause him to teleport away.

Weird Holyman (WHM)

No one is sure what deity the WHM serves or what they did to gain their odd powers and crazy actions, but once approached the party must play the encounter out. There is no way to hurt a WHM; all attacks of any kind simply rebound on the attacker. When these guys are approached or offered food or money, they jump up, start to babble, sing, dance, or do other weird things. They will do something to each party member before they run away cackling hysterically and disappear.

Roll 1d6 and use the following tables to determine what happens.

1. WHM dances with the character who must then continue dancing til the Former disappears
2. bless the character – Use the Holyman table
3. make the character sing til the WHM disappears
4. hug the character (steals his purse or some item when doing so)
5. doubles or halves (50/50 chance) the character’s Wiz
6. Do something weird – roll again on the table below

1. french kiss the character, and give him toxic breath. Anyone he exhales strongly at suffers 1d6 poison damage
2. cause 2 foot long horns to grow from the characters head (worth 2 dice in combat)
3. turn character
1. Red – half damage from heat or fire
2. Yellow – makes character very timid
3. Green – character sprouts leaves
4. Blue – character has half damage from cold
5. Black – character gains natural 1d6 armor protection from his skin, but suffers same loss from his speed.
6. White – character can see in dark, but can’t tolerate direct sunlight
4. Gives character a gem – use gem table in rule book.
5. Turns character into a:
1. Rat
2. Wolf
3. Fairy
4. Frog
5. Raven
6. Troll
6. all characters grow 6 inch long fur or all hair falls out (50/50 chance)

Characters can be changed back into their original form with appropriate magic.

Unholyman

These awful creatures serve the dark gods and demon lords from whom they derive their malicious abilities. When they are approached, they will curse the person or being that disturbs them, and then vanish.

Roll 1d6 and use the following table to determine which curse they put on the victim.

1. Rash – character loses ½ his combat adds til curse removed
2. Bad luck – all saving rolls made one level higher than normal
3. Clumsey – Dexterity halved
4. Dummy – Intelligence halved
5. Slug – Speed halved
6. Roll again on table below

1. Character blind
2. Character deaf
3. Character mute – unable to speak
4. Character ugly – Charisma reduced to 3
5. All characters clothes and equipment disappear
6. Character turned to stone

Most of these can be fixed with a Remove Curse spell or appropriate magic.

Game masters are free to add to the lists or use their own special appropriate blessings or banes as desired. Those who think up a good one can trollmail me on Trollgod’s Trollhalla and I will consider adding more lists if I get some good ones.

Happy gaming. Hope you get some fun out of this one!

Yorrdamma Vrash

Copyright 2011, Roy Cram