Arduin Grimoire, Part XIII

Arduin Grimoire, Part XIII

Werecritters, Dinosaurs, And Escapes

And More

This may be a briefer-than-usual article, as I lost yesterday’s writing time to Mother’s Day duties, and today I have my weekly Pathfinder game, and normally I’d just say ‘smeg it’ and not post, but I did that last week, and once you get a two week gap, it turns into a three week gap, and then it’s August and I’m like, “Smeg, when was the last time I wrote anything?”, and so it goes…

Werescorpion? There Scorpion. There Dungeon.

Leaving grappling rules, we now turn to were-creatures, because, why not?

I remember the were-chart as being somewhat more outre than this, but that might be from another source, or it might be my aging brain finally catching up with me. Anyway, we have an assortment of were-critters. It’s worth bearing in mind that, at the time, there were only six ‘official’ werebeasts, and this was long before the age of templates that granted you the ability to make a half-ogre/half red-dragon who was also a were-fox and possibly a construct. Monsters were, for the most part, designed ‘whole’, so a were-otter was its own thing. (Honestly, it’s surprising that templates took so long to come into vogue… in hindsight, they seem an obvious idea, and in some ways more suited for the wild&wooly days when we cared more about ‘Awesome!’ than logic, game balance, common sense, or how long the DM had to work writing an Excel sheet to handle monster building.)

Werebadger Don't Care.

Werehoneybadger Don’t Care.

It is worth noting, because it will come up again (and there will be a quiz) that these creatures have a ‘hit dice range’. This was not common at the time. Normally, a monster had set HD, and that was that. One reason for the plethora of humanoids was to provide challenges across multiple levels, so you’d start with kobolds and work up to orcs, hobgoblins, bugbears, and ogres. Having hit dice ranges meant a creature could be a threat across a wider level range. And, since hit dice was basically the ‘level’ of the monster, affecting saving throws and some types of magic (such as sleep), this simple innovation by Mr. Hargrave foreshadowed 3.x’s ‘monsters and PCs follow similar rules’ design. Damn, I need to start cataloging all the mechanics in Arduin, many predating even AD&D 1e, which became standards in D&D 3.0.

I admit to being a bit confused by the experience rules… does his mean that a sixth level warrior becomes a second level wereowl? Also, I assume the DM is supposed to interpolate the attack damage against the hit dice range. Ditto AC, for the few cases where it changes.

I’ve Got A Golden Book Of Dinosaurs And I’m Not Afraid To Use It!

Next we have a bunch of basic dinosaur stats, roughly 1 1/4 pages, and then they turn into sea creature stats.

Not Shown: Icthyarsaurs Are Playful Unless Hungry Or Aroused. Good To Know.

Not Shown: Icthyarsaurs Are Playful Unless Hungry Or Aroused. Good To Know.

Not really a lot to add or comment on. These don’t dramatically extend the existing dinosaur stats; maybe Dave just wanted his own chart, or disagreed with how Gygax rated various extinct critters. Indeed, the exact hit dice of a T-Rex has been a subject of considerable paleontological infighting over the years, leading to more than a few academic careers being ruined by the incessant backstabbing. Jack Horner’s famous speech at Indiana University, ’15 Hit Dice, Armor Class 3, And No Claw Damage’ is often cited as the ‘Attack on Fort Sumter’ of the still-ongoing debate.

Oh, being scraped by a shark’s skin does 1-12 damage… when you consider a typical human had 1-4 hit points, total, this makes you wonder why sharks even needed to bite. Just brush past the prey, and it’s dead.

Escape From New York The Kraken

Half Percentages? Yeah, They Were A Thing.

Half Percentages? Yeah, They Were A Thing.

Just putting this here to show you what we went through in the absence of any formal ‘Escape Artist’ checks. Note, also, that neither Strength nor Dexterity formally figure in to these numbers… just raw class+level.

Coming Soon…

4-8 Greater Dragons. 'Nuff Said.

4-8 Greater Dragons. ‘Nuff Said.

I said, this was going to be a short one. (“That’s what she said!”) I’ll leave you with a bit of a ‘teaser’ for next time… a segment of the Encounter Chart, because we’re finally at the monster section.  (OK, we’re going to get through weather, diseases, and mists first… but here’s the encounter chart, anyway.) Shydras, Demon Locusts, and Ibathenes, oh my!

 

 

Arduin Grimoire, Part XII

Arduin Grimoire, Part XII

Alignment, Combat, And Combat About Alignment

There was an “alignment chart” earlier in the book, but now we have an essay about it. It’s very clearly based on the original tripartite scheme, and how often do you get to use ‘tripartite’ in a sentence, anyway? Mr. Hargrave believes the predominance of ‘lawful’ types in games is due to the dunother game systemons treasure distribution rules, where most aligned magic items were lawful. (And he may well have a point, as gamers will exploit any rule that gives them even the smallest advantage, in deference to all other considerations… there was a prolonged Knights Of The Dinner Table strip where the characters concocted an extreme plot to become enslaved by an evil race, win their respect, and be anointed (not, as my spell checker suggests, annotated) members of that race, so they could then pick the race’s god as their patron deity… because they’d get 1d6 extra hit points for worshiping him. That this would take years of game time did not deter them from trying it. Satire, of course, but like all good satire, somewhat grounded in truth… I’ve seen people on MMO boards complaining that they “had” to complete some long, tedious, series of quests, because the reward was a +1% bonus to something-or-other, and they were “forced” to do them because otherwise, why, they wouldn’t have the 1% bonus! But I digress.)

However, I must suspect that a bigger reason for the predominance of “lawful” characters is revealed by Dave Hargrave’s paean to the joys of chaotics:

PVP Does Help Keep The Players Busy While The DM Checks Facebook...

PVP Does Help Keep The Players Busy While The DM Checks Facebook…

A party of fishmalks didn’t work even two decades before anyone even knew what a fishmalk was.

General Notes On Combat

We next learn the following about combat in Arduin, over several pages of teeny-tiny type, in no particular order… just Dave’s jotted notes, sometimes brilliant, sometimes mind-boggling, always entertaining, one after the other. Like I keep saying, reading this is like having Dave in your living room, guzzling your Mountain Dew and nomming your Cheetohs, while he tells you what he thinks and how to play his kind of game.

  • Magic weapons can hit anything, as can technological energy weapons, but pistols cannot hit “undead types” — I interpret this, in context, as meaning “bullets don’t stop it!”, but lasers do. Works for me.
  • Silver weapons and bullets can hit “all undead types”. Clearly, Mr. Hargrave had not seen Love At First Bite (actually, it probably wasn’t out yet).
  • Magical/mythological creatures can always hit all other creatures, even if they go gaseous, etc. However, normal creatures can never hit magical creatures. The example of a “normal” creature is a 20 hit dice giant spider(!). If 20 hit dice giant anthropoids are ‘normal’ in Mr. Hargrave’s world, it indicates he was born in Florida.
  • Undead (save for zombies and skeletons) can always see invisible, so if you try to hide from a vampire that way, “you may end up an involuntary blood donor”.
  • Golems are immune to normal weapons and to most magic, but if you hit one with a fireball and then an iceball, it will explode, which is good, and then send shrapnel through the room like an artillery shell, which is bad.
  • If you drink a potion of strength, since your bone structure, etc., is not transformed to handle the increased power, you will probably break bones and tear yourself apart “unless the user is damn careful”. No specific rules are provided, of course, just an open license for the DM to be a sadistic little bastich… as if we needed such license.
  • Ah, here’s the “final effort” thing from the turning undead chart…  you can channel all your strength into your wisdom (I don’t know if that literally means ‘add your Strength to your Wisdom to get a bonus’, or if it’s metaphorical), but you can’t fight for a number of melee turns equal to your strength (so, the stronger you are, the longer it takes you to recover?).
  • Undead are only repelled by holy symbols of their own religion, so, like that guy in “The Mummy”, you’d better cart around every one you know of, just in case.
  • Beasts that stone people can only be stoned by their own kind, except in Washington and Colorado, or if they have a note from their cleric.
  • Fireballs and other AOEs divide their damage among all targets in the area, which, sadly, doesn’t make a lick of sense… and since this comes from an era when “simulationism” and “verisimilitude” were not dirty words, blasphemy unto Ron Edwards, that matters. As written, and it’s a pretty clear rule, esp. for Arduin, if a fireball does 20 points of damage and there’s four people in the blast radius, each takes five… but if there’s one, he gets all 20. Huh?
  • There’s a nifty little block of rules on how to handle unintelligent monsters’ combat choices. It helps avoid charges the DM is out to “get” a player.

In general, all the rules in this section make it clear play was with “paper and pencil and miniature figures”. I got your “theater of the mind” right here, buddy. As the dead horse beatathon continues, it’s really fascinating to see this slice of history from smack-dab right in the middle of the transition from “D&D as a new wargame” to “D&D as the first of a new genre”. To keep up with my evolutionary analogies, let’s call it the Archeopteryx Moment of the culture… the point where something is mid-range between two things. This is where “RPG Culture” really began to distinguish itself from “Wargame Culture”, where you started getting more and more players who didn’t have a wargaming background at all, but came in from SF, fantasy, and comic fandom.

Now, we head into more specific, detailed, combat rules. I’m just going to include a few snippets that are typical of the level of detail. These help show that, at the time, the response from most of D&D’s audience to its simple, abstract, system (which was derived from wargame-style CRTs (Combat Result Tables, not Cathode Ray Tubes, ya idjit!) was not “This is a gem of pure perfection, needing no further details, that frees our imagination to soar on wings of fancy to realms of pure storytelling bliss”, but was, rather, “M0AR R00LZ NA0W!!!!”, except, better spelled, because back then, you couldn’t get away with  being an illiterate moron as easily as you can today.

Combat1

But What If Two Of Them Are Halflings And Is An Ogre?

Combat3

“So, There’s A 30% Chance Of You Not Getting A +1 To Your AC. Got It.”

Combat2

Too Simplistic. I Want Modifiers For Bucklers, Round Shields, Kite Shields, and Different Kinds Of Shield Material. OK, That’s Pathfinder. But I Digress.

Combat4

Hargrave Invented The Six-Second Round AND The Armor Check Penalty 23 Years Before D&D 3.0!

Oh, I Think The Turkey will Get The Message The First Time

Oh, I Think The Turkey will Get The Message The First Time

(You’ll note, BTW, there’s none of this namby-pamby molly-coddling of idiots who do idiotic things. They’re called out for being idiots. Back then, it was understood the only way to get someone to stop being stupid was to tell them that they were being stupid.)

And here’s a Stalking Vroat (from the later edition):

Stalking Vroat

Stalking Vroat

Damn, I love this guy’s art.

Anyway, there’s five more pages of combat tables, weapon vs. AC modifiers, hex facing rules, and so on. I think I’ve covered the style and tone well enough for now. They mostly replicate, with minor changes, “that other game system”.

Ah, but then… but then…
The critical charts!
And I just found out to get this damn editor to not insert huge white spaces between paragraphs. Cool.

While not as hilariously gory and sarcastic as the Rolemaster charts… no tripping over imaginary turtles… this did add an element of blood-soaked fun to the mundane massacres of monsters. In one game we played, a halfling rolled a “100” critical on a centaur. I ruled the halfling had actually stabbed the centaur in the foot, but the creature reared up and smashed his head on the ceiling. So it goes.

One Point Per Finger. Something About That Really Appeals To Me

One Point Per Finger. Something About That Really Appeals To Me

For a roll of 100, it says, “irrevocable death results”. This seems a bit odd in the context of the time, when everyone was walking around with wishing rings, and there was even a spell in this very book, “Gathering the Sheaves“, which would bring together all the parts of the body for a quick raise dead. It’s telling, though, that even at this early stage of the game’s evolution, the “revolving door afterlife” was starting to irk people.

There’s a matching critical fumble chart, of course.

Criticaling Yourself Was Rare, But You Never Forgot It When It Happened

I am not sure what’s meant by “rolls a double one on the dice” — does that mean, rolls a 1, then, rolls again, and if it’s a 1, it’s a critical fumble? There are no actual rules I can find in the Grimoire for when something’s a critical hit, either… we just assumed a roll of ’20’ meant a critical when we played.

Next, we have a “Brawl chart”, that looks like it would work better for unarmed combat than the AD&D DMG rules (not that much would work worse, come to think of it), where you have a cross-index of attacks like “Right Cross” and “Uppercut” against defenses like “Duck Right” and “Jump Back”, and each participant in the brawl wrote down, secretly, their attack and defense, and then various formulas involving strength and dexterity were applied to see who hit first and what the odds were, and so on. It’s basically a separate combat module. I’ve seen a few games, even relatively modern ones, decide that a one-size-fits-all combat system doesn’t work for all the different ways people can kill each other, and so, have a ‘gunfighting’ system and a ‘fencing’ system and so on, which is one of those “looks good until you try it in actual play” ideas — because someone’s going to try to punch the armed orc, or shoot the brawler, and then integrating the mechanics on the fly becomes a mad dash of hastily improvised rules based on whatever points are in common. (Hell, a very similar problem occurred with White Wolf’s OWOD games, where the various magic and special ability rules were relatively well-balanced and tested within each splatbook, but the interactions between them became insanely complex when you tried to mix-and-match.)

You almost never saw this level of detail for melee fighting, though. Combat systems for D&D (and its close evolutionary kin) where you picked a specific attack and a specific defense were not common. I won’t say there were none, because the mad surge of creativity that defined this era produced so much, so fast, that no one, not even an obsessive collector like myself, could hope to see it all, but they weren’t widespread and none seemed to rise to even local prominence.

(I wonder if it would ever be possible to trace back the origins of various aspects of early variant rules. I have a theory (it could be bunnies) that a lot of the “m0ar stuph!” — the new monsters, magic items, classes, spells, etc — came from the sci-fi fandom crowd, drawn into D&D from a non-wargame background, who saw RPGs as their way to have Mr. Spock fight the Balrog, and the “m0ar r00lz!” — the uber-detailed combat modifiers and detailed tactical positioning systems — came from SCAdians and history buffs who wanted a game that simulated their concept of medieval combat on a personal level. (Prior wargames, with their focus on units, abstracted away the “He’s got a round wooden shield and he’s using it left-handed, while he’s holding a war axe with a 2′ handle, and I’ve got a 4′ longsword but no shield, and it’s muddy, and I’m running downhill at him, and I had porridge for breakfast, but he hasn’t eaten yet…” details.)

Well, that’s it for now… next time… were-centipedes and dinosaurs.

Arduin Grimoire, Part XI

Arduin Grimoire, Part XI

Rune Weavers’ Magik

Also, Magikal Treasures

“Hargraves New Magikal Spells (Wondrous Webs Of Power)”

“(Continued)”

Continued from what, you may ask.

From the next page, of course. The ordinary laws of time, space, and page order mean nothing here! Nothing, do you hear me? Nothing!

Anyway… Rune Weaver Spells, or “Webs Of Power”, which is an admittedly awesome term.

Sort Order? We Don't Need No Stinkin' Sort Order!

Sort Order? We Don’t Need No Stinkin’ Sort Order!

So, this is the first page, which is after the second page… but anyway…

Yeah, This Really IS Awesome. No Sarcasm. Seriously.

The Spell Of The North Wind Spider. Skylar’s Web Of Wondrous Entrapment. Waziran’s Wondrous Web Of Paralysis.

This is what RPG spells should sound like! The names are evocative and informative! You have at least a clue what each one does… North Wind? Sounds cold, right? Paralysis? Well, that’s obvious. Etc. Let’s compare, in order to keep (TRIGGER WARNING: ANIMAL CRUELTY1) beating dead horses, “Golden Wyvern Adept”. This was the proposed name for a feat that let a wizard exclude some targets from an AOE spell in Dungeons & Dragons Fourth Edition. It was mocked to death, rightly so. Style and flavor are important… but not to the point where they’re meaningless. Arduin, mostly, hit the sweet spot.

And the colors! Dude, look at the colors! Mottled grey-green, sparkling metallic gold, and (on the first page, which is really the second page), “As For Green Slime”. Erm, OK, that one’s not so hot. I mean… green? Or “translucent drippy slimy green”? But there’s also “Whistling Glowing Blue Web On Fire The Blue Flames”, and I don’t care that, technically, “whistling” isn’t a color. It is if Dave Hargrave says it is, damn it!

That’s “the spell of the web that eats men”, which conjures a 10′ web of green slime. It holds “all up to 10 dice” and “attacks at 1 die per turn, then 2, then 4, etc.”, and in the face of such coolness, it would be churlish of me to whine that it doesn’t actually say what size die.. I’m guessing either “D6″ or “Whatever die green slime use”. (Not ‘dye’, please note. Green Slime only rarely color themselves black to try to pass for Black Pudding.)

Oh, those “(C)”, etc., notations? They’re things the web is “100% PROOF” against. C=Cold, CP=Chop, L=Lightning, etc.

New Magikal Treasures

Now, the important stuff: The phat l3wt, though of course, we didn’t call it that back then. You couldn’t have your Monty Haul games without tons of magic.. er… magik… and here’s some new stuff.

You Will Also Need To Spend 2d10 Copper Pieces Or Be Surrounded By Panhandlers

You Will Also Need To Spend 2d10 Copper Pieces Or Be Surrounded By Panhandlers

Other than the obvious pun… well, obvious if you’ve lived in the Bay Area and used its laughably misnamed Rapid Transit System (OTOH, if you were living in Joisey at the time, you totally didn’t get it)… I posted this mostly to show the format. Value, looks, effect. “Looks” was generally not standard for the time. Greyhawk, for instance, added many of the most iconic items to D&D, but described them almost entirely mechanically. Likewise, the “Value” of magic items, from what I can tell, didn’t become standard until the DMG came out around 1979 or so. Neither Greyhawk nor my LBBs list prices for magic items, at least not in a clear and obvious place — which, I must admit, is no proof they’re not in there, given the nature of the era. (“Well, of course the price tables for magic items are in between ‘Table II-A: Swamp Parasites’ and ‘Table II-B: Sausage Prices’. Where else would they be?”)

A few of the niftier items:

  • Gauntlet of the Fencing Master: For use by “thieves, assassins, traders, slavers, or bards only” It works for “epees, rapiers, and foils only“. What does it do? Oh, just gives you a +5 to your attack and give you double attacks per turn. Sweet!
  • Staff Of The Druids: Summons 1d4 helpers who will deal with paperwork, make sure your mistletoe is fresh, and do your shopping… nah. This black oak staff, “entwined with living vines and crowned by mistletoe”, can “strike for 3-18, plus overtime pay and maternity leave”, summon and water for 2 people per user level up to 3/day, and cure diseases and light wounds… apparently without any limits or charges. Oh, and it makes plants grow “extremely” fast up to 10 times normal size, and I can guarantee you there were plenty of arguments over whether or not “extremely” fast meant “ten times faster, so it’s cool for farmers” or “instantly, so I can grow an entire oak tree in the next round”.
  • Slaver’s Lash: 18′ long barbed, blood red whip of fire demon hide. 3-18 damage plus the wounds fester for 1 point/minute, and “save vs. fear or surrender”. Fifty shades of ouch! (Should I mention there isn’t, in fact, a ‘save vs. fear’ on the saving throw tables I discussed a post or two ago? Nah, it would be churlish of me. Seriously, the ‘Reflex/Will/Fortitude’ simplification in 3.0 was one of the best things to happen to core D&D mechanics.)
  • Ring Of Ruthlessness: The wearer becomes “100% Amoral Evil”. If anyone disagrees with him, he will “slay them instantly”. +3 to Strength, Intelligence, Dexterity, Agility, and Constitution, and +6 to Ego, as well as +4 to attacks. Clearly, this is how DMs are made.
  • Oil Of Instant Obedience: Spread it ony object and, three minutes later, the objects will “dance to your tune”, obeying your commands. Yes, people are included in this. It’s strongly implied this adds some form of mobility to rocks and furniture. Did I mention it’s “no save”, lasts for an hour, and only costs 5,000 gold?
  • Whimsey Wine: “When drunk, anything can happen!” Insert your own sleazy college story here. Anyway, this might cause “the user to become hasted, or turn blue”. The DM is encouraged to have a “Whimsey Chart” with 20 or more things listed, and roll on it.

And here’s a picture of a boogie man. This is not from the edition of Arduin I’ve been mostly referencing here, but from the edition I’ve had since I was in High School. Why? Because, even though it pains me to say this, the art from Erol Otus in a lot of that early printing wasn’t that great, compared to his later genius. It might have just been poor reproduction, or something. But this guy? Michio? He was freakin’ amazing, even given the limited printing capacity of the time. Oh, but why a picture of a boogie man? Because that’s what’s at the end of the Magik Items section, of course. Duh.

Oddly, He Is Not Wearing Tight Jeans, Nor Does He Have A Coke Spoon. Boogie Man, Get It? Thanks. Don't Forget To Tip Your Waiter.

Oddly, He Is Not Wearing Tight Jeans, Nor Does He Have A Coke Spoon. Boogie Man, Get It? Thanks. Don’t Forget To Tip Your Waiter.

And with that, we’re officially at the halfway point in the book! Tune in next time, for Alignment! Also, Combat, and maybe we’ll make it to the Dinosaur Chart.

1:OK, I think it’s out of my system now.

Arduin Grimoire, Part X

Arduin Grimoire, Part X

Our Prismatic Walls Go Up To Lavender

Also, Magikal Spells

Now, we get to one of my very favorite pages in gaming history, possibly second only to the picture of Loviatar in the original Deities and Demigods. (GIS it. Sure, it doesn’t look like much now, but trust me, in the days before the Internet, we adolescent boys had a lot fewer options.)

However, the page I’m discussing has no nipples. What it does have is prismatic walls.

“Oh, big deal,” you say. “They were in Greyhawk. Whatevs.”

Bah!

As you might have noticed, Mr. Hargraves had a mad genius for taking existing chunks of Dunother gaming systemons rules and expanding them dramatically. So it was with the prismatic walls.

Ulu Vakk Approves. (Google It)

Ulu Vakk Approves. (Google It)

You will notice a few things:

  • A plethora of underlined words to emphasize things of importance. You damn punk kids don’t know how hard it was being a fan writer before the Macintosh and the dawn of desktop publishing. Hell, when the Arduin Grimoire was being written, there weren’t even any generally affordable word processors to speak of.
  • The reference to known types of prismatic walls. This is a perfect example of what I loved about Arduin, and similar works of the time: The implication of extension, of going beyond. Here’s the known types, Dave Hargrave said to us. Wink wink, nudge nudge, make up your own!
  • Lots* of** footnotes***, which I’ll address in a bit.
  • Again with the “triggers”? Seriously, somehow, in my youth, I never noticed or questioned these references, but now, I really do wonder what they mean! Maybe, “contingency” type spells? Maybe I’ll find a reference later.
  • It’s not clear if a “prismatic wall” spell creates all of these colors, or just the standard ones (leaving the others to be used as barriers in the dungeon, placed there by the DM), or if you can pick a set of colors to create. That last one would be the most awesome, so, I’ll go with it. Here’s my official rule: When running Arduin, when a magic-user casts prismatic wall, they can swap out one color of the ‘standard’ wall for one other color of their choice for each point of Intelligence over 14.
  • No DM worth his salt would let a player reference this list in play, and we didn’t have no fancy-pants “Knowledge(Arcana) Checks” back then. Players — not their characters — would regularly memorize stuff like this, to know the effects and counterspells needed. I got your rules mastery right here, bucko.
  • A lot of these are pretty extreme and absolute. Again, typical of the time, with “save or die” or, hell, “no save and die” effects being very common.

Way back in 1980 or so, I was inspired by this chart to create “Spectral Slimes”, a bunch of oozes, each the color of a wall, with powers/abilities influences by those walls. And I am not one to let an idea go to waste, no matter how much time has passed!

Some of the notations include:

“Prismatic walls, when looked upon, have all the capability to hurt, etc., as outlined in other available gaming systems.” (Yeah, the editing really is that obvious there.)

“**” indicates the only other way to nullify that type of wall is to have a “Dispell(sic) Magic” of equal or greater level than the mage putting the wall up.

Yeah, I gotta include this next one as an image:

mindwipe

Utter And Complete Permanent Annihilation!!!!

You have to love — well, I love — the sadistic glee dripping from this paragraph. More than that, I love the entire style of this, and most of the rest of the writing — the direct, personal, connection, as if you were sitting there listening to Dave explain things to you. The Arduin books (as did the Gygax-authored D&D books) had a strong narrative voice. They were not mere reference books, nor had they been scrubbed and sanitized by a horde of lawyers and marketroids. They were tomes of lore, handed down from wise (and often cranky) masters to the young apprentices.

Then, apropos of nothing in the prior paragraphs, we get a few notes on life level draining. Summary: Sucks to be you.

New And Unusual Spells

Many With New And Unusual Spelling

Badum-bum!

Now, some new spells. First, “Druidical Magik”. The highlights include:

Marlyn’s Mighty Mystical Mouse Spell: This is a 6th level spell that costs 6.5 mana plus 1.5 per mile traveled or 10 minutes, plus an additional 1.5 for every 45 seconds stuck in traffic, and you better tip the driver 20% if you know what’s good for you.  Anyway, it summons a tiny winged mouse to do the druid’s bidding. It can become invisible and passwall at will, its bite causes the target to fall into a deep sleep, and the druid sees and hears all the mouse does — which given the invisibility/passwall powers it has, makes this an incredibly useful spying spell.

Chastarade’s Spell Of The Stone That Weeps In Silence: (Do you love these spell names as much as I do?) Basically, flesh to stone, except a)it turns you into a boulder, not a statue, and b)you retain full consciousness, so you can “forever regret making a druid mad!”.

Mages’ Spells

The Rosy Mist Of Reason: Save vs. magic or become reasonable and discuss things instead of fighting. I suspect that many a DM of the time wanted to cast this spell on their players.

Stephen Le Strange’s Spell Of The Instant Idleness: Targets who fail their save just sit around watching the clouds go by. I’m including this here mostly due to the name. A PC in Dave’s game, or Dave’s own shout-out to the Master Of The Mystic Arts?

Flames Of Doom: Alternatively, ‘Harbag’s Hellfire': 1d8 damage per turn… and drains one life level per turn! This is only a fourth level spell, and requires a simultaneous Dispel Magic and Cure Disease to end! Damn, they played rough at Hargrave’s table!

Yorgen’s Falling For Forever Spell: Fail a save and “fall” upwards at 100′ per turn. No indication of duration, so, the “falling for forever” is pretty darn literal.

Sulthor’s Blaze Of Glory: This lets you either cast off every spell you have memorized in one turn (including spending any of your unallocated mana to boost them), or select one memorized spell and then pour all your mana into it. You’ll be unconscious for 1-12 hours, either way. But… smeg… every memorized spell? In one turn? I mean… really… that’s pretty… wow. I’d love to be at a game where that happened. I’d hate to be the guy working out all the details and ramifications, if the caster had more than 3-4 spells left. (One thing I’d say is that he or she couldn’t choose targets well — maybe pick a direction for a fireball spell, but not the exact burst point. Any affect that could be randomized, like a polymorph, would be.)

Stafford’s Star Bridge: Creates a rainbow-hued bridge that can support any weight, and can be keyed to let others “fall through selectively“. The “selectively” is underlined in the original. Apparently, this was a dig at Greg Stafford, whom Hargrave, rumor has it, felt was not being sufficiently “supportive”. Or so I’ve pieced together from fragments of stories. If anyone has a more accurate version, with backing beyond “I know this guy who knows this guy who…”, please, let me know.

Cleric Spells

Transfer Curse: Or “Not Me, God, Him!” (Yes, that’s from the book, not me being snarky. Dave and I have a similar sense of snark, it seems. I wish I could believe in an afterlife, so I could believe I could meet him.) Anyhoo, this spell lets the cleric designate a proxy, and if the cleric reads a cursed scroll/touches a cursed item/etc., the proxy takes the effect. It’s noted this must be used with no evil intent unless “fallen status be your goal”. I’m sort of at a loss as to how transferring a curse to someone else — and curses back in Ye Olden Dayse were nasty — is not a priori evil. Maybe you get the party’s tough guy to agree to be your patsy of his own free will?

Gathering The Sheaves: Brings together all the parts of someone’s body, including those “down to molecular size” but not those “vaporized”, leaving me to wonder how you “vaporize” something without leaving the molecules behind, but, anyway… If you don’t see how damnably useful this spell could be, you do not play real Old School style! (“But Lizard, didn’t you say at the start of this interminable series that telling people there’s a wrong way to be Old School isn’t Old School?” “Yes, I did. I also said I was hypocritical about it, remember?” “Oh, yeah.”) (I have got to get a smarter imaginary peanut gallery.)

Rhyton’s Release: This is a “trigger” spell that causes all college students in the area to write tearful, badly-spelled posts to Tumblr1.No, wait. It “triggers” all magic items in the area (60′ radius+10′ level over that needed to cast the spell), causing them to fire off at least one charge and then discuss their microaggressions. (I made part of that up. Guess which part.) Well, damn. When I think about the kind of magic-item toting characters we used to run back when Arduin was cutting edge instead of nostalgic, I’m glad no one tried casting this. Well, at least now I know what a “save vs. triggers” probably is. (And knowing is half the battle! The other half is finding a safe space where you can recover from your trauma at hearing someone express an idea you don’t agree with.2) The “at least one” is interesting… no rules for determining if it’s more than one charge, but that never stopped a properly sadistic DM, and there’s no other kind worth playing under!

Next time: Rune Weaver spells and new magic items!

1: Never let it be said I won’t beat a joke into the ground, then keep pounding until it hits the Earth’s molten core. (“Trust me, Lizard, no one has ever said that.”)

2: See 1.

Arduin Grimoire, Part IX

Arduin Grimoire, Part IX

Charts, Tables, Matrices

Without Which, It’s Not An RPG, It’s Just People Making Up Stories

Also, I Roll Up Three Magic Weapons, Just Because I Can

Now, we proceed to a large collection of charts and tables, things which used to be heavily in vogue (or possibly in Elle) in RPGs. Nowadays, the trend is towards simple formulas, such as “3+1/2 level+your class spellcasting attribute bonus+2/3 of your level in a related class except for an alternate base adjusted optional class, +12% of the total amount you spent on giving the DM Chinese food”, instead of complex charts. Progress!1

Oddly, most of these charts replicate in function, if not form, the same charts in That Game Dave Won’t Mention Anymore. (A careful reading of the rules shows many places where the font is suspiciously different from the surrounding text, indicating something, most likely the name “Dother roleplaying gamgons, has been whited-out and replaced.) They don’t seem to offer a dramatic improvement, they just offer a slightly different take on things, perhaps with a few more options or details.

We start with the Clerical Turn-Away Chart, presenting a set of ‘roll this number or higher’ values cross-indexed with level and undead type. The level ranges go up by two for a bit, then four, then five, then ten, while the target number slowly drops by 1. Turning didn’t happen a lot in Dave’s games, I’m guessing. If you roll double the needed number, you destroy, rather than turn, the undead… but there’s no chance of this happening until a 20th level Cleric tries to turn a measly skeleton… and what’s a skeleton doing facing a 20th level cleric, anyway?

The chart also highlights a more general problem with the original D&D design, one not solved for a while: By using specific undead types, instead of “hit dice” or “level”, you ran into problems with new undead, and the designer always had to remember to add things like “Turned as a wight”. (Hell, this problem of failing to prepare for expansion hits a lot of things… how many different systems in Star Fleet Battles are ‘destroyed on photon torpedo hits’, for example?)

One oddity worth noting is that the number is reduced by 1 if the Cleric is trying his “final try”… I have no idea what that means. Perhaps it will be addressed later. Perhaps monkeys will fly out of my butt.

Next, we have what looks to be a unique mechanic: A chart showing “Detect Ability” by source (such as Mage, Cleric, Amulet, etc.) and target (such as Magic, Treasure, Weather). it’s a way to consolidate all of the various “Detection” abilities in a single universal mechanic — so if you have a Magic User spell that Detects Weather, this chart — not the spell description — is supposed to be used to let you know the odds of it working.

“When the total exceeds 100% there is a still a 10% chance for failure.” Does this mean that if the total is 99%, there’s only a 1% chance, but if you accidentally get to 101%, it becomes a 10% chance? A simpler phrasing would have been “The odds can never exceed 90%”, if you ask me, not that anyone has.

You Need To Know What Could Be Looted Off Your Comrade’s Body When He Died

Saving throws for items was one of those rules that tended to only get remembered when the rememberer thought it could be of use. This includes DMs who really regretted letting a player get the +5 Sword Of Hellacious Disemboweling, or players who wanted an ‘out’ when the DM said something like, “No, your +1 leather armor doesn’t protect you against falling 100′ into an active volcano.”

I am utterly at a loss as to what “Triggers” mean. Presumably, the magic item had to save against any exposure to any concept, idea, or word that offended its delicate Millennial sensibilities, or it would go curl up in a fetal ball and whimper about how it was oppressed.

As was also typical of the time, the intensity (level) of the effect was never considered — a wyrmling’s dragon breath and an elder wyrm’s dragon breath were just as likely to boil your potion, and that’s not a euphemism. (Maybe…  I mean, maybe just as likely, not maybe it’s not a euphemism. There were a lot of microrules associated with dragons, so this might be an exception, but I’m too lazy to go look it up right now, and this article is two weeks late as it is. Remember this site’s motto: “Free, and worth it!”. Hm. I might need to change that if I make up a Patreon.) Magic weapons and armor, though, got a bonus for each “plus”.

You’ll note the use of “umpire” instead of “DM”. Little-known fact: The term “Dungeon Master” did not appear in the “little brown books”. I’m not sure when it was first used, but during the earliest years… the Terrenuvian phase of Cambrian-era gaming… there were a lot of terms used, drawn from wargaming, mostly, such as “Referee”, “Judge”, and “Umpire”. “Dungeon Master” and “Game Master” emerged a few years later, and things “Storyteller”, “Gameplay Happiness Facilitator”, and “Directed Probability Consciousness Counselor” weren’t even imagined, thank Cthulhu.

Then there’s a set of charts for normal character saving throws, interesting in only a few respects:

  • They are divided into charts by class and charts by ‘exotic character types’ such as ‘dwarfs’ (not so exotic) and ‘demi-gods (OK, that’s a litte exotic). It’s not at all clear if the latter chart it meant to apply to monsters/NPCs with no class (you know, just like the players. Badum-bum! Don’t forget to tip your waitress), or if you used it if you were a non-human PC, too.
  • Indicative of the time, males and females of some species, such as elves and half-elves and, erm, that’s it… had different saving throw rolls. Female elves were slightly more vulnerable to dragon breath and slightly less vulnerable to psychic attacks, because… uhm… I have absolutely no idea.
  • Oh, maybe I’m wrong on it not saying which you use. It says “An elven mage rolls under the elf column”, but it’s still not clear if that also means a dwarf fights rolls on the dwarf column. This chart might be a holdover from the race=class days of very early D&D. A lot of the stuff in the Grimoire, as noted earlier, seems to have been developed over several years, based on the prevailing standard of the time, and then not updated/edited when it was gathered together at the gaming equivalent of the Council of Nicaea. (I had to Google that to be sure I got it right. I was hoping it was the Diet of Worms, so then, I could make some ‘Diet of Cheetohs’ gag, but it was not to be.)

Alright, now comes one of my favorite bits…no, two of my favorite bits… maybe I’ll save the second for next week… but at least this one gets in…

Random Chance Chart For Magik Weapons

magic weapons

Not sure what “Roll one per each two intelligence levels over *” means, I’m guessing *=8, on the grounds that it’s over the ‘8’ key and that would be an easy typo to make.

Let’s roll some dice!

(I just opened up my dice bag to discover it contained several packets of soy sauce and duck sauce from a game about three weeks ago. Huh. Anyway….)

37 (Lance), 73 (+1 attack),31 (+2 damage),01 (Int 1), 70 (Ego 17), no special powers. Alignment: 38, 24=Neutral Good. Hm. The Lance Of The Worthy. While possessing no awareness, this lance nonetheless has a powerful, instinctual, desire to be wielded only by those dedicated to a life of good and heroic deeds. It will struggle against anyone not so inclined.

43(Maul),71(+1 attack),90(+3 damage),74 (Int 17),16(Ego 5), 3 Normal powers: 100 (Holy CRAP, it’s a vorpal…. maul?),13 (detect poison),92 (Clairaudience). Alignment: 64, 30=Lawful… Average? Hm. The Crusher Of Heretics. This self-aware, but somewhat pliable, weapon is known for its obsession with small details and points of order, and will lecture its wielder at length about the need for proper decorum in all things. It is especially eager to kill those who hold to religious teachings that deviate from what it considers “proper”, and uses its clairaudience to listen in on the conversations of scholars and priests, hoping to catch them in heresy. The ability to detect poison has saved the life of more than one bearer of this powerful weapon, as such bearers tend to breed enemies. While it cannot actually sever heads, on a roll of 20, it knocks the head clean off, causing it roll 1d10+4 feet.

29 (Two handed broadsword), 44 (+3 attack), 65 (+3 damage), 29 (Int 9), 09 (Ego 3). Alignment: 31,60=Neutral Average. A slightly dim, and very weak-willed, blade, perfect for almost any warrior. It has few passions or desires, but does love to blather on. A harsh rebuke will silence it for a time, but it will invariably resume the mindless conversation.

1:”But Lizard! You whine all the time about how much you hate simplistic, dumbed-down systems and freeform this and abstracted that, so how come you’re whining about rules being too complex? What side are you on?” I’ve already answered this: The side that lets me make the most snide remarks at any given juncture.

Failed My Fortitude Save vs. Disease

Yeah, I’ve been managing weekly updates for a while now, but this weekend, not so much. I got something, probably one of the things we’ll get to on pages 78-79 of the Grimoire. IAE, I spent about two hours staring at my keyboard and produced three sentences that, on rereading, looked like the ramblings of Uncle Duke from Doonesbury. So, sorry, tune in next week for clerical turning, saving throws, magical weapons, and one of my very favorites, Prismatic Walls And Their Effects. Ever encounter a Rose, Magenta, or Copper Prismatic Wall? No? What kind of lame-ass wuss game were you playing in, anyway?

Mana-Manna

Mana-Manna

Doo-doo-do-do-do…

So, pursuant to a comment on my most recent Arduin article, I decided to check the etymology of ‘mana’. For decades, I thought it had the same roots as ‘manna’, as in, the story of Exodus.

Well, that’ll learn me.

‘Mana’ is a Polynesian word meaning ‘power’ , ‘effectiveness’, and ‘prestige’, with strong overtones of a supernatural source. It has nothing in common, etymologically, with ‘manna’, the food eaten by the Israelites during their 40 year sojourn in the desert, demonstrating that GPS>Pillar of Fire.

Also, this.

Which, by the way, has its origin in an Italian porno movie.

Now you know! And knowing is half the battle! The other half is violence.

 

Arduin Grimoire, Part VIII

Arduin Grimoire, Part VIII

Markets And Magic

(And Witch Hunters, Which Don’t Start With ‘M’)

“Y’know, being a Paladin is cool and all, but I wish there was a class that let me be even more of a douchenozzle to the other players, and justify it by saying ‘I’m just playing my character!'” (Some Gamer, At Some Point In the 1970s)

Well, to be fair, that exact quote was probably never said, because ‘douchenozzle’ is much more modern slang. But if Downton Abbey can use ‘step on it’, I deserve the same leeway.

Charisma 9, Int 12, Can't Detect Traps... Nah, No Point To Be Made Here

Charisma 9, Int 12, Can’t Detect Traps… Nah, No Point To Be Made Here

  • We start off learning that barbarians and witch hunters detest each other and fight on sight. Also, elves and hobbits are never witch hunters, that pesky “Limitations Chart” earlier on notwithstanding. We also learn I like to fool around with the ‘torn page’ settings in SnagIt.
  • The ‘torn page’ cut off the note that they are ‘99% Christian’. One of the many glories of “unofficial” material from the Cambrian Age Of Gaming is that the authors had no real concern about “public image” or being “offensive”. (Something sorely missing in the modern era, where anything deemed to be not going after Acceptable Targets generates howls of digital outrage from the Puritans1.)
  • We see the truly ‘old school’ three-point alignment system in play here, with Lawful, Neutral, and Chaotic, no hint of ‘good’ or ‘evil’ in sight.
  • They have a very unusual magic system… in later games, this would have been modeled simply by giving them class abilities gained at various levels, but here, they’re semi-shoehorned into the spellcasting rules. Interestingly, the mana point system enables this nicely. You can give a class a small subset of spells, and the mana to cast them, and that’s that.
  • Capped at 12 intelligence, 15 wisdom (for a clerical-type class?), and nine charisma. Yeah. No axe to grind here, bucko! They get a ‘+5 with Lawful types’… I don’t know if that means ‘Add 5 to their capped number (9), so they max at 14′, or ‘Remember their original rolled number, and add 5 to that’. Almost certainly the former.
  • I am not sure why they are totally unable to detect traps… it seems to be an odd ability that doesn’t really fit with the theme. Besides, only thieves could detect traps, anyway. No one else had rules for doing so, unless you used a variant system where anyone could detect traps via boring the DM to death. (“I tap the walls with my ten foot pole. Also, the floors. Then I carefully burn away the cobwebs near the ceiling with my torch. Then I look at the walls and floors closely to see if there are any tiny holes which could shoot darts or gas. Then…” “For Cthulhu’s sake, man, you’re renting a room at the stables!”)
  • Hating technology more complicated than a crossbow would be a non-limit in most games, but Dave handed out mu-meson blades with gay abandon. (That’ll be discussed if we ever make it to the Runes Of Doom…)
  • The Witch Hunter is the only class in the core book to need two pages!
Hey, These Guys Only Go To 40th Level!

Hey, These Guys Only Go To 40th Level!

  • You will note these guys only go to 40th level.
  • You will also note that, adding support to my thesis that the Grimoire was assembled piecemeal from documents written at various times, that the Witch Hunter uses the “Fighting Capability” rules from the very earliest edition of D&D, something dropped fairly quickly from common play… a holdover from the original Chainmail rules.

BTW, my wife is a distant descendant of Cotton Mather. Yeah, that Cotton Mather. (These days, given the raimant of the televangelists, he’d be Polyester Mather, or something.)


 

Multiversal Trading

We then get to a price list. I won’t be scanning it or going on in great detail, but there’s a few cool things to note.

  • This includes price ranges, not fixed prices. A nice touch.
  • There are ‘poison’ and ‘venom’ antidotes, by level. I have to assume that the simple ‘save or die’ poison rules that were part of D&D until 3.0 were widely replaced by others, because there’s a lot of more complex/less insta-kill poison rules out there.
  • Adamantine grappling hook? 200 gp.
  • Bronze crowbars break 30% of the time; Mithril, 5%.
  • A “dhowrigged galisse” costs 40,000 to 75,000 GP.
  • Doctor John’s Salve, which “heals heavy wounds”, costs 1,000 GP.

 

Magic

Now, in two pages of teeny-tiny type, we have “Magic In Arduin” and “Even More Magic In Arduin”. Seriously, that’s how the text is broken up — not “Basic Rules” and “Advanced Rules”, or “Standard” and “Optional”. But, hey, it works!

It begins: “In fantasy wargaming there has been continual argument about magic and how it is supposed to work.” (Cross out ‘magic’ and write in ‘everything’ and you’ll be just as correct.) It then notes that the rules presented here are “a based(sic) from which to work”, and that magic is “limited only by the reader’s imagination” (and how much Chinese food he bought the DM.)

It always takes an hour to memorize all the spells of a given level, so if you can memorize 6 spells of that level, you spend 10 minutes per spell. This also means that if you know a lot of spell levels… and in Arduin, they go up to 11… actually, up to 30(!), you could easily spend most of the day memorizing.

Scrolls can only be used every other turn, due to the time needed to take them out, read them, etc. It ought to be noted here that while standard D&D rounds at the time were a minute long(!), Arduin used the six second round, which became standard with D&D 3.0. once more, well ahead of their time.

Also, if the mage is disturbed, his concentration will be broken, which could cause a backfire. There’s a lot of underlines in this text.

Also, in ALL CAPS IN THE ORIGINAL, is THIS NOTE:

MAGIC SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED IN CLOSE COMBAT SITUATIONS WITHOUT HEAVY PERCENTAGES OF CHANCE THAT EVEN FRIENDS WILL BE HIT. (All underlines also in original.)

The exact “heavy percentages of chance”, of course, are left up to the DM to decide. I begin with 100%, -10% for each potsticker or egg roll tossed my way.

Then there’s this. I’m too lazy to type it in, so, here you go.

Underlined Words Are IMPORTANT!

Underlined Words Are IMPORTANT!

It might seem, to a modern reader, that keeping track of which spells a magic-user cast on which orc over the span of many games would be tedious. Let me assure you, however, that no orc ever survived a single encounter, so there was no need to worry that you might run into that same orc again. Within the bounds of one combat, however, the “save always/fail always” rule offers some interesting possibilities, forcing a magic user to not simply spam the same spell over and over — or perhaps encouraging this, if the target failed. It adds an interesting tactical touch… and, for the umpteenth time, I note this mechanic appears, in a modified form, in many spells and special abilities in modern D&D, esp. fear effects, where, once you make your save, you can’t be affected again by the same effect for a 24 hour period. It’s not a universal rule, but it’s a common modifier. Hargrave’s design instincts were very solid, even if the execution evinced an excess of enthusiasm over editing. (And my check from the American Alliteration Association is on its way! Ka-ching!)

The same rule applies to detecting magic — if you fail, you can’t try again for another level. (And in the modern age, Knowledge checks likewise need a level to try again… ).

Wands, amulets, rings, etc., require conscious and conspicuous action to activate. Rings, in particular, must be turned — pity if the fighter is wearing his ring of flight under his armored gauntlet, the text notes with the sinister and sadistic glee only someone who has endured too much behind the screen can muster. This activity will be noticed and enemies will take appropriate action.

You have to have your magical goodies where your hot little hands can get them at an instant’s notice.” And if you don’t? Well, that’s where the “PHUMBLE PHACTOR” (sic) kicks in! The “P&P” (no, I don’t know what the “&” is for, maybe to avoid the childish giggles that would invariably emerge if the DM said “Roll your PP!”) is a chance — 50%, -2% per level, +/-5% for each point of Dex over 12 or less than 9, of grabbing the wrong end of your wand (that’s not a euphemism), selecting the wrong scroll, etc. (Me, I’d mandate this roll only if the caster was in a particularly stressful situation, or was partially blind, or otherwise not operating at presumably normal efficiency. Other DMs might be much less forgiving, usually with good reason.)

Next up, we have yet another piece of “design prescience” — the invention of, in effect, Touch AC!

“Another area that is seldom explored in fantasy gaming is what constitutes a “hit” when the weapon you’ve lobbed only has to touch it to work?”

For example, if you’re using a stasis compacted green slime grenade… yes, I said “stasis compacted green slime grenade”, it’s right there in the example… yeah, that is totally awesome, isn’t it?… you get a +4 bonus to attack, while, if using a cattle prod (yes, cattle prod), you only get a +2, since you must still close and attack. Makes sense to me!

Throwing things, like a shrinking potion, you add +6, but you then roll to see what percentage of it hit your target… and what percentage hit your friends. Oops.

Finally… at the very end of the magic rules… we get to the “manna” rules, around which, it is noted, “some controversy has… revolved”. You multiply intelligence by level, then divide by 4 if Int is 8 or less, by 3 if it Int is 9-12, and by two if it’s 13 or greater. This is generated per 12 hours of rest, and it’s noted that if you run out of manna before you run out of spells memorized, those memorized spells are “just empty words”. You can also choose to underpower spells — spending 2.5 points to cast a 5 point spells casts at ‘half power’, which seems like a great opportunity for cunning players to find spells that don’t lend themselves to being ‘halved’… and cunning DMs to find a way to make the bastards pay for thinking they can outsmart him. (“Well, I only need to be invisible for a few rounds, I’ll just cast it at one-third power so it only lasts as long as I need.” “OK, you turn one-third invisible. Your torso is missing, but the rest of you can be plainly seen.”)

Dave ends the section with:

“There are many more subjects I could cover, but this supplement is meant to get all you gamers to see that the sky is the limit and that no single person, publisher, or organization can have all the answers.”

Damn straight!

1)“One who cannot sleep at night for fear someone, somewhere, is enjoying themselves.”

 

Arduin Grimoire, Part VII

Arduin Grimoire, Part VI

Classes, Part II

Am I Sufficiently Out Of Ideas It’s Time For A “You Got No Class” Joke?

Aw, Hell No. I Have Two Volumes Still Ahead Of Me, Better Save The Good Stuff For When I Really Need It

Yeah, That’s What  I Consider The Good Stuff. Still Interested In Reading This?

Now You Know Why My Site’s Unofficial Motto Is “Free, And Worth It!”

Rune Weavers

We’re getting into some of the more outre, which is French for “awesomely rad, dude” (or possibly “we surrender”, I kind of flunked High School French because I spent too much time playing D&D. Seriously.) classes, like Rune Weavers and Technos. Traders and Barbarians? Obvious extensions to the Dungeons & Dragons milieu. (Thank you, EGG, for introducing that word, and many others, such as ‘phylactery’, ‘antipathy’, and ‘antithesis of weal’ to my vocabulary.) Psychics? Less obvious, but given the publication of Eldritch Wizardry and the popularity of Darkover, et al, at the time, clearly part of the zeitgeist. (German for “Toss this word into conversations if you want to sound intellectual and/or see who has the cojones to challenge you on your misuse of it instead of just nodding politely.”)

But Rune Weavers? What’s a Rune Weaver?

“Rune weavers were the original human magik users, learning their craft from the reptilian races of eld.”

Whoa.

I mean, seriously dude. Whoa.

This.

This is why I love Arduin so much.

Why?

Because there’s pretty much nothing else adding more to that statement. Because Dave Hargrave tosses that out like Dream tossing bread crumbs to the pigeons, and then moves on. Because instead of giving us a locked-down, rigorously built, second-by-second timeline of the universe, he gives us a vague, off-hand reference to “the reptilian races of eld” who apparently taught humans magic.. er… magick… er.. magik… and that’s it. We are left inspired, not instructed. We (and by ‘we’, I mean, ‘me’) are free to take this and build on it (or ignore it), to add “reptilian races of eld” to our fantasy worlds, or not. (I usually do; most of my D&D-ish worlds have an era when dragons and their kin ruled the land, as part of my general tendency to have at least three or four long-dead globe-spanning empires as part of the backdrop; it’s the boilerplate code of my worldbuilding.) We are given a tantalizing glimpse of a mystery, not the solution; the shadow of the monster, not the anatomically-detailed action-figure. To understand why this is awesome, consider what you imagined the Clone Wars might have been when Obi-Wan first mentioned them in “Star Wars” (Not “A New Hope”. STAR FRIGGIN’ WARS), vs. actually learning all about them in excruciating detail. (Of course, I’m also the guy who wrote the sourcebook that provided detailed backgrounds for every planet mentioned in Babylon 5 that wasn’t already detailed.)

But we’re supposed to be discussing Rune Weavers here, right?

The use of underlines in various places indicates the lack of boldface in pre-DTP days.

The use of underlines in various places indicates the lack of boldface in pre-DTP days.

  • The “Do not divide as for other mages” is explained around page 30. As is typical of the era, mechanics are discussed well before they’re introduced, without a hint of where they might be found… and sometimes, they never are. Sometimes, mechanics are scattered in a dozen places, making it easy to miss a key bit and get everything wrong.
  • One melee round per spell level, plus a one turn delay? Combined with the concentration rules (which we’ll get to, at the rate I’m doing this, sometime in 2018), this could be really nasty.
  • “Overcasting”, or being able to cast higher-level spells at a risk/cost, is a mechanic many editions of D&D and D&D-ish games flirted with, but never really got past second base. It’s generally hard to balance because if you make it too risky, no one uses it, and if you make it reasonably reliable, it lets players steamroll an encounter by gaining access to out-of-band abilities like flight. It’s not certain from the text above if the failure when trying higher-level spells just means “You wasted your manna” or if it invokes some sort of backlash rule.
  • It’s obvious that Rune Weavers would make, in modern terms, the perfect “Batman Wizard”: Not necessarily useful in combat compared to the “mobile artillery” mage (which is how wizards basically evolved out of the Chainmail Fantasy Supplement), but capable of casting lots of utility spells, including higher-level ones. “Scry, buff, teleport”, 23 years early!
  • I am seriously wondering how you figure out what knowing, say, 15% about a magical trap or magic fountain actually means. 
  • A Rune Weaver needs less XP to reach 105th level than a Thief does. Just thought you’d like to know that.

Techno’s (sic)

Blending technology with fantasy was commonplace early on in D&D, with Dave Arneson’s proto-D&D world of Blackmoor being steeped in it (later introduced officially in D&D proper via the Temple of the Frog in the Blackmoor supplement). Thus, it’s hardly surprising there’s a Techno class in Arduin, though the actual mechanics are… vague. I remember revising them to be, in essence, magic users, but each ‘spell’ was actually a device of some sort that needed to be carefully re-tuned after each use. That this mechanic integrated very poorly with the list of actual abilities granted to the class didn’t bother me at all.

By 15th level, I can make a flintlock. Meanwhile, the magic-user is casting Meteor Swarm.

By 15th level, I can make a flintlock. Meanwhile, the magic-user is casting Meteor Swarm.

  • So, you’ll notice there’s nothing here about hit die size, weapon proficiency (I guess they’re proficient in all “technological” weapons), etc.
  • He doesn’t write “Rune Weaver’s”, “Witch Hunter’s”, or “Psychic’s”, so why “Techno’s”? The world may never know.
  • It’s hard to see how, played as written, any would survive… they don’t offer much to the party compared to a thief of the same level. Does being able to “figure out” mechanical traps let you disarm them?
  • The ability to detect electronic emanations and radioactivity is pretty much only useful if a)The DM decides to include such things just for the Techno to find, and b)They’re set up so that if you don’t find them, the party is doomed. Otherwise…

Techno: “Wait, let me try to detect electronic emanations!”
Other players: “What, again?”
DM: “There aren’t any… moving on…”
Techno: “You didn’t even roll! I’ve got a 40% chance!”
DM: “Look, there’s no electronics in the Domain Of The Dread Lich Of Dire Doom. You don’t need to check in every damn room!”
Techno (smugly): “Oh, yeah, he’s covering it up. He doesn’t want us finding the secret radio transmitter!”
DM: “Oh for…” (Rolls dice). “There. I rolled. You still didn’t find anything. Happy?”
Techno (suspiciously): “Yeah, OK. I guess.”
Other players: “Finally! OK, we take the door to the north.”
DM: “You all die from radiation sickness as you open the lead door to the reactor core!”
Techno: “Damn it, if only I had been 10th level!”

(Pedants might point out that a reactor core must be controlled by something that would produce electronic emanations. Thank you, pedants. You killed the joke. It’s dead. Look at its corpse, so sad and pathetic. Are you happy now, joke killer? Are you proud of what you’ve done?

No, you don’t get XP for it.)

Medicine Man

Clearly, politically incorrect in this day and age. It should be Medicine Person.

Neil Peart is clearly 50th level.

Neil Peart is clearly 50th level.

  • So, at fifth level, you can cast Cure Light Wounds on “all” five times a day. That’s actually a very impressive ability. Assume a typical adventuring party of 4-6, and, at the time, assume an equal number of henchpersons. While it’s not explicit, I’d assume “all” means “your party and hangers-on”, or at the very least “all the PCs”. So that’s equal to 5-10 castings of a first level spell, five times a day. That’s nothing to sneeze at, and if it was, you could cast cure disease (if you were over 10th level). People used to curesticks and the like don’t understand how rare healing was pre-3.0. It could take three or four days for the Cleric to heal everyone at low levels.
  • The arguments over whether or not a spell was “true” offensive, or natural, or defensive, must have been Epic. Hell, Mythic!
  • The “drum magic” that costs only 20% manna makes these folks also great “utility” mages… and clerics… and druids. Seriously, access to all three spell lists, even if you have to split your manna? That’s amazingly flexible.
  • I have no idea what “detect hidden injury” is supposed to do. I’ve never encountered any mechanic in D&D for “internal bleeding” or any other form of “You’re taking damage, but you don’t know from what, or why.” Somehow, though, it was common enough in Hargrave’s games that he thought it was worth adding in the ability to detect it. Go figure.
  • Lastly, while most of the other classes go up to 100th level or more, Medicine Persons only go to 50th level. I blame White Privilege.

Next time: The Witch Hunter class, and Magic In Arduin.