Old-School Fantasy RPG Adventures and Campaigns

All the Difference

Every now and again life shows us a thing that changes the way we look at it. Before D&D, life appeared mundane. The future and what I would do in it was vague and distant. But after my first experience with this new kind of game, I saw another future. This one was more distinct, more tangible, and it was lit by a brilliant blue flame with tiny stars. In that future was fantasy and magic, and the path to it lay at my feet.

Like Robert Frost’s traveler pondering divergent roads, I knew that I couldn’t take the one path without leaving behind the other. Unlike the traveler, though, I didn’t long linger. I saw the way clear to the bend. The fantastic path had the better claim.

The road, I realized later, was the less well trod. In those days, it was the rare traveler who had heard of the game, fewer still who did not equate it with devil worship, and only a small number who played it.

Without knowing, I joined a small club. The club’s members, few and dispersed, made up a subculture that blended wargames with fantasy and science-fiction literature. An introverted adolescent, I found myself not always comfortable among the diverse crowd of geeks and nerds and metalheads, but always accepted into the awkward fellowship. As way led on to way, I didn’t look back.

Now, ages and ages thence, I, like Frost’s traveler, think back on the time life showed me the fantastic path, sometimes, with a sigh. How much different life would be had I never learned to play DUNGEONS & DRAGONS.

Anecdotes and Old Games - DONJON LANDS

Monsters and Magic Spells

Other than playing D&D, I don’t remember what else Garth and I might have done with those summer days. But the week ran out much too soon. My family had gone north to visit relatives for two weeks, dropping me off at Garth’s on the way. Now I was to spend the second week at my grandmother’s house.

At noon, my suitcase was packed, and the phone rang. Garth’s mom said it was my grandmother. She would be there in an hour.

While waiting, I asked Garth if I could look at the blue book. “I want to copy the important parts.”

Armed with pencil and ruled paper, I flipped through the eggshell pages. Monsters, I knew, were important, so, I started there.

Garth pursed his lips. “It’ll take you forever to copy all that.”

“I’ll just write the names.”

“Here,” Garth turned to the last page and pointed to three columns of monster names. “That’s most of the monsters. The stuff on those two pages is all you really need.”

Many of the monsters were alien to me. As I copied each name, I tried to conjure up what the creature should look like and how it might make a dangerous foe.

From fairy tales, I knew goblins were diminutive boogie men that run around all harry-scarry on dark nights. I knew bandits from Westerns, and I wondered what they were doing in medieval times. I was overly familiar with ticks from boyhood outdoor explorations, and even giant specimens seemed out of place in the fantastic world.

But orcs were unknown to me. I had seen, too young, cartoon movies with hobbits, but I failed to make the connection to the films’ frog-mouthed foot soldiers.

Then there were berserkers, bugbears, and gelatinous cubes, stirges and displacer beasts. Together the names conjured mayhem, but I wrote them down. Time pressed.

After the monsters, I turned to the magic spells. As the neutral human fighter, I witnessed Kaytar at his esoteric profession. But how magic worked in the game was a complete mystery. The names at least gave some hint to their purpose.

The hour was passing quickly, so I copied the “books” of magic-user spells without thinking. When I got to the clerical spells, I paused.

“Garth, how does light hurt you?”

“What do you mean?”

“This spell cures light wounds.”

“No, it cures a few hit points of damage. Like from a small wound.”

Then I heard a car pull into the drive outside. Time to go. I closed the pale blue book and looked one last time at the cover. A dragon’s treasure, blue flame, tiny stars.

Garth and I said our goodbyes and write-soons and maybe next summer again. I climbed into the backseat and waved out the rear window as the car pulled out of the drive. Clutching the leaf of ruled paper, I studied the lists of monsters and spells until car sickness came on.

Monster Lists from the Perforated Page - Holmes Basic D&D (1977)
Monster Lists from the Perforated Page, Holmes Basic D&D (1977).

Civilization and Diplomacy Map Boards on the Globe

Apart from Outdoor Survival, two other games have map boards that attract me as campaign world settings. I put them together to imagine the map of DONJON LANDS’ “Known World.”

I always thought Avalon Hill’s Civilization map board looked odd. I couldn’t put my finger on why it didn’t look right, but the shapes on the board didn’t match up with the Mediterranean map in my American-educated mind. I figured the map board artist was obliged to distort coastlines to fit land masses within a limited space or otherwise failed to color inside the lines.

I was surprised, when I laid a scan over a Google Earth screen projection, to see that the board artist only rotated the map a few degrees from north.

Both the geography and history of the Mediterranean and the Near East inspire adventures in ancient lands with seagoing voyages, threatened by mythological creatures from the deep, and desert treks to visit distant realms and explore forgotten temples atop stepped pyramids.

At the same time, pseudo-medieval is the “classic fantasy” I grew up with, before and after my introduction to adventure role-playing games. Northern Europe inspires adventures where vikings plunder coastal towns, armor-clad knights ride out from spired castles on quests for legendary objects, and druids chant rituals amid misty forests.

Unlike Civilization’s map, I thought the Diplomacy board was more or less correct—excepting Iceland, which I assumed was displaced to make way for the elevation legend. Not at all. I had to rotate the Diplomacy map a full 20 degrees to line up the coastlines on the globe. Thule is in its proper place.

Civilization and Diplomacy Map Boards on the Globe
Mappa Mundi.
Map boards from Advanced Civilization (Avalon Hill, 1991) and Diplomacy (Avalon Hill, 1976)—both rotated counterclockwise, 6.2° and 20.6° respectively—laid over a Google Earth image, oriented north (Google Earth imagery: Landsat/Copernicus Data SIO, NOAA, U.S. Navy, NGA, GEBCO IBCAO U.S. Geological Survey).

Firing into Melee

“Once the party is engaged in melee, arrows cannot be fired into the fight because of the probability of hitting friendly characters.”

—Holmes, 20

“Kaytar attacks it with his dagger.”

“And I shoot an arrow at it.”

“You can’t fire into melee.”

“Why not?”

“You might hit Kaytar.”

“He’ll live!”

I was never big on tinkering with the game rules. But the first rule I ever questioned was no missile fire into melee.

For me, two big attractions to the game are that it simulates a reality of heroic fantasy and that, through a character, you can do anything within the realm of possibility. A well aimed arrow between comrades to save the day seems to fall within its purview.

In the scene above, Garth relented and let me roll the missile attack.

“A 9, you miss,” he said. “There’s a fifty-fifty chance you hit Kaytar.”

It was an embarrassing moment. All at once, I fumbled an opportunity to make a difference, put Kaytar in jeopardy, and interrupted play with the argument—however brief—plus an extra dice roll.

I don’t find in the OD&D booklets any reference to firing into melee. I turn, therefore, to Chainmail, which reads: “Missiles cannot be fired into a melee” (16). Terse and unambiguous for once—we count ourselves lucky this day.

Holmes, quoted at top, carried the Chainmail rule forward. But later, on the same page, the text is less definitive:

“Remember that spells and missiles fired into a melee should be considered to strike members of one’s own party as well as the enemy” (20).

The Editor doesn’t give us any kind of rule to go with the permission. We might take “as well as” to mean the chance to hit an ally is equal to the chance to hit the enemy.

I could have missed it, but I don’t see a reference to firing into melee in AD&D or in B/X. Firing into melee is allowed in 2nd Edition AD&D, but it’s a “risky proposition.”

It’s also awkward. Before the missile is fired, allies and enemies are counted and weighted by size to calculate the chance that the impending attack roll will be against a party member’s AC (PHB, Chapter 9: Combat, Firing into a Melee). Depending on the result, we may have a distasteful situation where a player must roll an attack on a friend’s character.

A reader points me to a page in the AD&D DMG, where Gygax tells us how to handle “the discharge of missiles into an existing melee” (63). The system is similar to that of 2nd Edition, though more wordy. [05:54 29 January 2022 GMT]

From memory, 3E (in which I include 3.5) allows firing into melee with a simple −4 to the attack roll and no possibility to hit an ally. An optional rule allows for friendly fire—if the dice result would have hit the opponent without the penalty.

This lacuna in early editions has been the target of countless house rules. I’ve tried a few approaches in my own games, none satisfactory. Most require an extra dice roll, like 2nd Edition, or some additional calculation, like 2nd Edition again and 3E.

I recently made another attempt. No extra dice rolls in this one, no complex calculations, and it’s easy to remember. It assumes that allies give the opponent some cover from the shot. As soon as the dice comes up, you know whether you save the day or cripple a comrade.

One caveat: when playing with young children or sensitive adults, consider applying the attack roll penalty but ignoring the chance to hit an ally.

Odd Miss Hits Friendly

When targeting an opponent engaged in melee with friendly figures, subtract 4 from the attack roll. If the shot misses and the natural dice result is odd, the missile hits the friendly figure nearest its flight path.

Firing Into Melee
Firing Into Melee.
A reconstruction from a vague memory. The monster—I don’t remember which type—surprises the party and closes to melee with Kaytar. The neutral human fighter takes careful aim.

Three Daggers for Protection

After sharing “A Dagger for Protection” in the D&D Basic Set (Holmes) Facebook group, an exchange of ideas with old-school gamer J. Sebastian Pagani yields two more magic daggers that fit the protection theme.

“Since it’s purpose is to help preserve the life of the low level wizard,” Pagani suggests, “what about allowing it to restore 4 hit points, at the cost of its enchantment.”

That power, put into its own item, gives us the Dagger of Sacrifice.

Pagani’s inspiration for the other dagger comes from Argentine literature. In Leopoldo Lugones’s historical novel La guerra gaucha (1905), a threat, directed at whoever might attack its possessor, is engraved on a gaucho’s knife blade.

Quien á mi dueño ofendiere
De mí la venganza espere;

A gaucho is a brave, free-spirited, and rebellious horseman of the pampas. His lifestyle is the theme of Gaucho literature, the epitome of which is the epic poem El Gaucho Martín Fierro by José Hernández.

Martín Fierro, the character, became a symbol of the gaucho spirit, and the poem, published in two parts (1872, 1879), remains a celebrated cultural icon. Hernández is held in high esteem by generations of Argentine writers.

In 1913, Lugones gave a lecture series, collected into El payador (1916), in which he canonizes the work Martín Fierro and depicts the gaucho culture. Detailing the habiliments of the gaucho, Lugones describes the horseman’s weapon as “a great hunting and fighting knife.” The blade often bore chivalric mottos. As an example, he cites the couplet from La guerra gaucha.

Pagani read the couplet quoted in an essay by another Argentine writer, possibly Jorge Luis Borges. Pagani was struck by the essayist’s reaction to the engraved motto: “He was moved that the blade was speaking in the first person, as if it had a life of its own.” Hence, the inspiration for the Dagger of Vengeance.

Inspired in my turn, I stormed around the gray matter for inscriptions on the other daggers, which I include below with brief commentary.

The Dagger of Protection is copied from the earlier article.

New Magic Items

Phrases set off below a dagger’s description may be engraved upon the blade.

Dagger of Sacrifice — a dagger +2. When the possessor reaches 0 hit points, the dagger restores 1 to 4 hit points. It can so save the possessor’s life one time only. Then it becomes a dagger +1 forever after with no other power.

now i am become life the restorer of weal

Fangled from a line in the Bhagavad Gita, which Robert Oppenheimer called to mind on witnessing the first nuclear weapons test: “Now I am become death, the destroyer of worlds.”

Dagger of Protection — as a dagger +1 in combat. It is paired with a steel sheath. Only while sheathed does the dagger protect the carrier, adding +1 to armor class and saving throws. Also called a “mageblade.”

to wield or protect

Brainstorming protection quotes got me the 23rd psalm and the LAPD motto. I find the motto more malleable.

Dagger of Vengeance — a dagger +1. If the possessor, whether wielding the weapon or not, is slain by an attacker, the dagger becomes animated and attacks the slayer. Treat the dagger as the same class and level as the slain. It has an armor class of 2. When the animated dagger is hit, or when its vengeance is served, it falls to the ground.

whoever offends my master let him expect my vengeance

Lugones’s couplet translated but otherwise unadulterated.

Engraved Couplet - Leopoldo Lugones - El payador 1916
The motto appeared earlier in Lugones’s historical novel La guerra gaucha. The author recalls the couplet in El payador, shown here. Lugones precedes the inscription with a note that the engraved mottos were “in rough handwriting and worse spelling.”

Progressive Dice, a Misnomer

This is a follow-up article to “Progressive Dice for Effects Durations,” in which I propose a method to roll each turn for the chance for an effect to end. This, in order to maintain the secrecy—and suspense—of an effect’s duration when playing solo or otherwise without a DM.

So-Called “Progressive” Dice

“Instead of rolling for the effect duration at the trigger to know on what turn the effect ends, we roll the same dice at the beginning of each subsequent turn to see if the effect ends in that turn.

“A dice result equal to or greater than the current subsequent turn indicates the effect continues. Roll again at the beginning of the next turn. A lower result means the effect ends.”

—“Progressive Dice for Effects Durations”

I’ve used progressive dice for effects durations and a number of other things for years. My assumption was that the chance for the effect to end each turn stands alone turn by turn, increasing as turns go by, therefore “progressive.” I also assumed that the overall probabilities, compared to the traditional method, were somehow the same.

Progressive Dice - Assumption

Writing the previous article forced me to think a little deeper on the method. I wondered if I’d got it right. Does it really yield a progressive chance, turn by turn, for the effect to end?

The smartest D&D mathematician I know is Dan Collins of Wandering DMs and Delta’s D&D Hotspot. A 40+ year D&D veteran, Dan is also a university lecturer in mathematics and computer science.

So, I sent him a query outlining the problem. Dan’s response, a few lines and a table of probabilities, shows how it is that progressive dice are not so progressive after all. For, using the proposed method, the chance of the effect ending is much higher in the initial periods than the later, so, not at all statistically equivalent to the traditional method.

In a traditional game, the DM rolls a single dice (or combination thereof) when an effect is triggered to determine its duration. A duration of 1 to 6 turns, say, is rolled on a d6. The probability that the effect ends on any turn is ⅙ or 16.67%.

Single Dice Roll [Traditional]

Using so-called progressive dice, “It stacks up differently,” Dan writes. “It’s very unlikely that you’ll get to turn 5 or 6, because you have to survive all the prior rolls to get there. Over half the time you’ll have the effect stop after two or three rounds.”

Here I had to make a saving throw vs. Death Ray. Reading the email, I was talking to Dan through the screen: The progressive dice method is so elegant, man—it has to be right!

Dan goes on to explain: “Computing a compound probability like this is a series of multiplications…” He also includes a table with a note that, if the calculations are correct, the sum of all chances should be 100%. I reproduce the table here.

Progressive Dice, Chance to End After Turn n
Turn Multipliers Product
1 1⁄6 16.67%
2 5⁄6 × 2⁄6 27.78%
3 5⁄6 × 4⁄6 × 3⁄6 27.78%
4 5⁄6 × 4⁄6 × 3⁄6 × 4⁄6 18.52%
5 5⁄6 × 4⁄6 × 3⁄6 × 2⁄6 × 5⁄6 7.72%
6 5⁄6 × 4⁄6 × 3⁄6 × 2⁄6 × 1⁄6 × 6⁄6 1.54%
Total   100%

So, it isn’t just the simple chance (bold) each turn that the effect will end. We have also to factor in the cumulative chance (italics), which is each previous roll inverted, that the effect hasn’t already ended.

Note that, in the previous article, we roll to see if the effect ends at the beginning of the next turn. “Ends after turn n” is a different way to say the same thing.

Progressive Dice - Correction

Therefore, at best, I misnamed “progressive dice.” Though the number to roll increases turn by turn, the chance to make that number is not at all progressive. The chance to end the effect after the second or third turn is much higher than the first or later turns.

Alternatives

So, what is a DM-less player to do? We might accept the statistical difference and use the so-called “progressive” dice in play. Or we might seek out other solutions. We look here at two—one of them works.

Single Dice, Effect Ends on a 1 (Not a Solution)

I thought of an alternative method. Roll the same dice every turn, with a result of 1 signaling the effect’s end. The effect ends automatically at the end of the  maximum duration.

It’s more simple than counting turns. But, if I’m following Dan’s lesson well, we still have to factor in the chance that the effect ended with the previous roll(s).

Effect Ends on 1, Chance to End After Turn n
Turn Multipliers Product
1 1⁄6 16.67%
2 5⁄6 × 1⁄6 13.80%
3 5⁄6 × 5⁄6 × 1⁄6 11.57%
4 5⁄6 × 5⁄6 × 5⁄6 × 1⁄6 9.65%
5 5⁄6 × 5⁄6 × 5⁄6 × 5⁄6 × 1⁄6 8.04%
6 5⁄6 × 5⁄6 × 5⁄6 × 5⁄6 × 5⁄6 × 1⁄6 6.70%
Total   66.51%

Ends on 1

Furthermore, I note that the total percentage is only 66.51, which is 33.49 short of 100. I’m guessing that’s because the effect automatically ends at the duration’s upper limit. The chance that it will end after the 6th turn is, in fact, 6.70 plus the remaining 33.49, or 40.19%.

Ends on 1 - Corrected

1 to n Cards

Dan suggests a card solution: a number of playing cards n equal to the upper limit of the range, 1 to n, one of which is an ace—or, if you have a deck of many things on hand, the Donjon (ace of spades) or the Fates (ace of hearts).

Shuffle the deck once when the effect is triggered. Draw one card from the top of the deck at the beginning of each turn. When the ace comes up, the effect ends.

Here, the shuffling is the dice roll, which determines on which turn the effect ends (on the ace). The chance that it will end in any particular round is 1⁄n, just like a single dice roll. The only practical difference from the dice roll is that the ending turn, while predetermined, is hidden within the deck. Also elegant.

A disadvantage is that the card method cannot duplicate dice combinations. Melqart’s stun duration, 2d4 turns, for example, cannot be reproduced using this method. In this case, it was the first effect duration of the campaign, but dice combinations might be infrequent.

Another disadvantage is that you have to manage an additional tool at the table. The suspense about when the effect ends, though, may well be worth the trouble.

For myself, I love to incorporate playing cards into my D&D, and if there’s an opportunity to get more use out of a deck of many things, I’ll take it.

Other Solutions?

I’m interested to hear your suggestions for maintaining the secrecy of effects durations in a DM-less game. I would also entertain a counterargument showing that progressive dice do in fact produce progressive results. Because it’s elegant, man, it has to be right!

My thanks to Dan Collins for his statistical analysis of the problem as well as an alternative solution. For interested readers, Dan offers several venues to learn more about dice and probability. In an episode of Wandering DMs, Dan gives a course in Basic Dice Math, and in another episode with cohort Paul Siegel, he talks Dice Mechanics. In addition, you’ll find a plethora of articles about dice statistics on Dan’s blog.

Player Character Record Sheet Index Cards

Tabletop Playing BX D&D

 
Real estate is valuable at one’s place on the table. A solo player needs, within easy reach, maps, notebook, rulebook, setting guide, and adventure notes, in addition to dice and a place to set a drink. Small room remains for a character sheet, less for a whole party of them.

Years ago, I started with full-page character sheets but soon reduced to half size, before I realized the utility of the 3" × 5" card.

Thorsdottir BX Player Character Record Card Front Thorsdottir BX Player Character Record Card Back
B/X Player Character Record Card, Front and Back.

Compared to the official B/X accessory (reproduced B14),1 the index card lacks saving throw and “to hit” vs. AC tables, notes, character sketch, and player’s name.

The D&D Reference Tables (from Dungeon Module B2, “perforated for easy removal”) replace the save and “to hit” tables. I keep notes in the adventure log, player’s name is omitted for solo games, and my drawing skill does nothing to improve the record’s aspect.

The index card is adaptable to other early D&D editions. For Endys the Uncanny, created when graph paper was not available to me, I use a character card in a Holmes D&D Basic game. Images below show the card of Palantir, an OD&D character.

Palantir OD&D Player Character Record Card Front Palantir OD&D Player Character Record Card Back
OD&D Player Character Record Card, Front and Back.

The OD&D card includes space for the character’s class, “Elf Fighting Man,” rank, “Veteran,” and Fighting Capability, “HF/AF.” The reverse has room to note a Beneficiary, in this case, a nephew Fingolfain.

The field for damage can also be used to note the manner of the character’s passing. Palantir was killed by a ghoul in room 9 of some deep, dark place. Should Fingolfain seek the inheritance, he may find his uncle’s gnawed bones in an open tomb. We note, however, Palantir, in his short career, gained not a gold piece.

Palantir in Play Prior to His Demise in an OD&D Campaign
Palantir in Play Prior to His Demise in an OD&D Campaign.

Notes

1 These sheets for B/X were produced from 1980 through 1984.

Cover Player Character Record Sheets 1980 Cover AC 5 Player Character Record Sheets 1984
D&D Player Character Record Sheets.
Covers by Jim Roslof (TSR, 1980) and Clyde Caldwell (TSR, 1984).

“A Dagger For Protection”

“Magic-users — humans who elect to become magic-users must not wear armor and can carry only a dagger for protection” (Holmes, 6).

Reading Holmes on a Sunday morning—as one does—gave me an idea for a magic item.

Though we might say one carries a weapon “for protection,” it really doesn’t protect us so much as it should harm an aggressor. I thought, what if…?

New Magic Item

Dagger of Protection — as a dagger +1 in combat. It is paired with a steel sheath. Only while sheathed does the dagger protect the carrier, adding +1 to armor class and saving throws. Also called a “mageblade.”

OD&D’s “Recommended Equipment”

A 1st- to 9th-Level Campaign
The Outdoor Survival Map Amid Other Tools for a D&D Campaign.

Don’t Throw Out the Box the Map Board Came In

In this article, I don’t mean to say anyone is playing the game wrong. I mean to say that our OD&D games—or at least our esteem of the rules—might improve if we reconsider the ignored parts of Chainmail and Outdoor Survival.

A recent Grognardia article reminds me of a point I’d like to bring up. In “Retrospective: Outdoor Survival,” James Maliszewski gives adequate treatment to the 1972 simulation game, with due attention to designer Jim Dunnigan, mention of the included Wilderness Skills primer—which reminds James of The Boy Scout Handbook, and a brief summary of play and the five scenarios typical of a wilderness environment: Lost, Survival, Search, Rescue, and Pursue.

He doesn’t miss the map board, of course, and its suggested use in OD&D as the setting for impromptu adventures. James notes that Outdoor Survival is the second entry in Vol. I under the heading “Recommended Equipment.”

When playing OD&D, I think1 we don’t take the rulebook’s advice seriously enough. It’s true, “Recommended Equipment” is misleading. Considering the “Dungeons and Dragons” rules are first in the list, “Required Equipment” would be more accurate. We would hardly think of playing D&D without dice, to cite the list’s third entry.

Likely due to the cost of two more games in addition to the ten 1970s dollars we already spent on a box of three slim booklets—not to mention dice, we content ourselves to replace Chainmail with the Alternative Combat System and sometimes use Outdoor Survival’s map board as a wilderness setting.

In so doing, we neglect the other—admittedly cumbersome—combat rules, like move-and-countermove (Chainmail, 9), parry and number of attacks per round by weapon class (25-26), and I’ve talked enough about jousting.2 In fact, the Alternative Combat “System” replaces, with a d20, only Chainmail’s fistful of dice to determine hits.

Later D&D editions revisited Chainmail to restore some of the combat options. The Holmes edition’s oft-bemoaned implementations of parry and number of attacks per round (20-21) are examples, as is B/X’s oft-ignored combat sequence (B24). But OD&D combat, bereft of these options, becomes the stereotype “I miss, I hit… I miss again.”

We also explore the wilderness on a hex map, but without any dangers apart from monsters with lots of hit dice rolled on the Wilderness Wandering Monsters tables. For this reason, commenter Gus L., in response to James’s article, likens adventures in the OD&D wilderness to “a bus ride with fistfights.”

It doesn’t have to be that way. On the page before the wilderness monster table, Vol. III refers us to Outdoor Survival’s rules as well as its board to handle lost parties (17). Further, when a party becomes lost, food may well run short. In a desert, water is scarce. Maybe it makes for a less than heroic adventure, but rules to handle starvation, thirst, weather, and fatigue are found in Outdoor Survival. By breaking up the succession of fistfights, incorporation of those rules can turn the bus ride into a challenging journey accompanied by the threat of many-hit-dice monsters.

Grognardia doesn’t mention Outdoor Survival’s most interesting innovation for an early 1970s game. After we’ve learned the rules playing a Lost scenario and maybe a Search or a Rescue, lackluster as they may be, we must press on to Scenario 6.

Scenario 6: One of the most interesting aspects of OUTDOOR SURVIVAL is the opportunity it provides for devising your own scenarios. Once you have mastered the mechanics of play, many additional ideas, providing more testing of outdoor knowledge and skills, will come to you. Integrating these situations with the standard games will add pleasure and skill-sharpening to the playing.

—Jim Dunnigan, Outdoor Survival

There is a certain irony in that Scenario 6 appears under the heading “Optional Rules.” For best results, I recommend using “Dungeons and Dragons”—those slim booklets containing lists of spells and monsters—as additional equipment.

Notes

1 I use “I think” as a lazy and weak shield against attacks from those whose opinions differ. Excuses to my sophomore English composition teacher, who pointed out, “If you didn’t think it you wouldn’t write it, would you.”

2 Strategy on the Jousting Matrix

Turn Undead in Movement Phase

It was a table perhaps some decades ago. Remaining now are crumbling bits of dry rot wood next to a single stool in similar condition. One plate, flatware, a goblet, and two candlesticks, all of tarnished silver, lay amid the friable refuse.

Bending, Hreidmar scooped up the goblet. “Now there’s a treas—”

The north door opened and a troop of skeletons filed in. The first held a covered plater high in one hand, a threadbare towel laid over the bones of the other arm.

Thorsdottir stepped forward and thrust the Ouroboros1 toward the advancing column—“Back!”

The silver platter dropped to the floor with a clang. The cover rolled aside. Heel bones scraped stone as the skeletons turned away, fleeing through the door…

Lower Levels of the Lonely Tower
Lower Levels of the Lonely Tower.
The scene takes place in the central room (unnumbered), lowest level.

I’ve always counted Turn Undead as some kind of magic for the purpose of when, in the combat sequence (B24), a cleric should take the action. The B/X Rulebooks give no guidance on the matter (nor on a number of other details about Turning).

In my experience, Turning in the magic phase makes for some awkward moments:

  • Maneuvering and preparation for combat against half a dozen or so undead takes up time that will be for naught if the cleric’s Turning is successful.
  • Players, thinking about tactics in the movement phase, make a certain emotional investment in the combat, of which they are then deprived.
  • Missiles fired on the undead before they are Turned in the following phase is often anticlimactic.

During a recent Wyrmwyrd session, it occurred to me that Turning is only a quick gesture and maybe a couple spoken words. A cleric could easily do that while moving. If successful, the field is cleared—or at least thinned. If the Turning fails, the players can get into the combat with confidence their actions will be meaningful.

Rules Clarification: Turn Undead

A cleric attempts to Turn Undead in the movement phase of the combat sequence (step B, phase 2).

In the scene depicted above, neither side was surprised, and the player party won the initiative roll. Thorsdottir turned seven of nine skeletons.

Notes

1 The Ouroboros is the holy symbol of the Pantheon.

A Cleric Presents a Holy Symbol