The Complete Works Of Zorin Greystar

Book 1

Which Implies This is Not Complete

But There Was Never A Book 2, So…

(Shrug Emoji)

Hey hey, everybody, it’s yo boi Lizard and…

No. Just no. The Cringe Factor is off the scale. I am now, and always have been, and always will be, a cranky old man. Yes, I was a cranky old man in my pre-teen years. I was born old. Anyway, two things:

First, in a sign of my momentarily renewed commitment to writing stuff (at least until I have to start work on the final novella in my trilogy), I have cleaned out some very deprecated plugins that may have been blocking people from commenting. At least, that’s what I’m gonna tell myself, because it’s easier than fully internalizing just how much I am screaming into the uncaring void.

Second, I am writing something (that you are now reading, unless, as happens, I get distracted and never actually post it), namely, a walkthrough of “The Complete Works of Zorin Greystar”, a not-D&D supplement from 1984, somewhat after the “Burgess Shale” era. The mid-80s were a time of rapidly increasing professionalism and higher expectations, not to mention, T$R getting a lot more law-suity. Thus, the supply of “OD&D-sized booklets full of deeply personal (that means, not playtested) house rules” was dwindling, like trilobite diversity near the end of the Permian. (Come for the bad jokes, stay for the awkward and spottily researched paleontology references!) But there were still some! Books, not trilobites. They were gone at the end of the Permian. I forget how I became aware of this (the supplement, not trilobite extinction), but aware of it I did become. I have a physical copy heading my way any day now, and a legal PDF to work from for this review. So, let us get on with it, shall we?

By Their Fonts Ye Shall Now Them

To me, nothing says “Old-School” like fixed-width fonts! By the mid-80s, graphics and layout were rapidly professionalizing, with proportional fonts, more modern typesetting, and occasionally spell-checking! But Zorin Greystar has no use for your fancy innovations! Courier was good enough for Merlin, it’s good enough for him, and I, for one, am grateful. (It might not actually be Courier, just something similar, before I get the Font Police on my case, squealing, “You fool! You foolish fool! Can you not recognize Snûrfbläten-97 Decollatagé Flambé? ‘Courier’, he says! Pfah! It would be hilarious, were it not so sad!” But I digress.

I say “Good enough for Zorin” because the book is written as if Zorin and his friends are lecturing you on the Secret Arts. From the introduction:

I fought many battles, even with the mighty Game Masters themselves, whose rules I thought inadequate. I taunted death, and even expulsion from the worlds when I pointed out their incongruities and mistakes.

In other words “I was such a whiny rules lawyer I got kicked out of gaming groups in the 70s/80s, when anyone, no matter how socially inept or unshowered, was permitted to stay.” In revenge, he sought to correct those errors, writing his own supplement! With blackjack! And hookers!

A quick word or two on art. I’ve noted the art in most of the items I review from the early days of gaming were done by the most prolific artist of the 1970s RPG scene, This Guy I Know. (Full name: “This Guy I Know, He Painted This Bitchin’ Dragon on My Cousin’s Van, And He Works For Pizza”.) On occasion, the art of the era transcends this, as I’ve noted in the Arduin books. Zorin, fitting the date of publication, straddles the line. It’s better than most home-press supplements, would have been professional (in the TTRPG industry) in the 70s, but falls a bit short of the current (1984) state of the art (pun intended). It is definitely in the Spirit of the Era, and that counts for something.

Moving On…

After the introduction by Zorin, there’s another introduction by Lord Moondog, and then, Chapter I, “The Multiverse”, by Talena. Did I say old-school? This book is very forward-looking, indeed, anticipating the rise of White Wolf and the trend to having everything in a game narrated or described in-character. This is… not a style I prefer. Note this is different from the kind of chatty tone you see in Arduin, where the voice is clearly that of the author describing the rules to you, or calling your attention to things. This feels more forced. Anyway, “The Multiverse” is basically the AD&D “Great Sphere” cosmology, at least the inner bits — prime material, elemental, ether, astral, yadda yadda. This goes on for several pages.

Oh, and “positive and negative force” is what powers magic, via manna, and we’re going to get a spell point system, aren’t we?

Yup. The next chapter, by Daera, includes the following:

All complex formulas are supplemented by tables, and the reader will find that 7th grade math is all that is necessary. Those lucky readers possessing fabled magic calculating (or even computing) boxes will have an even easier and faster time with this REVOLUTIONARY NEW SYSTEM! Before I get into the real bulk of the New System, I will explain reasons for creating it.

If you’re WRITING IN ALL CAPS about your REVOLUTIONARY NEW SYSTEM, I’m gonna assume there’s be a link where you can pay only $19.99/month to get VITAL UPDATES that will bring TRUE FREEDOM.

(It’s also kind of funny that she assures us you only need to do seventh grade math, but if you have a calculator (as many did not at the time, kiddies, much less ‘computing boxes’), it will be even easier, when you consider that people are now complaining D&D 5e, which has, pretty much, one mechanic — roll 2 dice and either take the larger or the smaller, depending, then add a rarely-changing number to it — is ‘too complicated’. Damn punk kids! I hope this REVOLUTIONARY NEW SYSTEM requires differential equations in 3-D. (Can you do differential equations in 3-D? Honestly, I don’t actually know what differential equations are, but they sound really tough!))

So by page 18, we finally get to the rules, such as:

Let:
P = Prime Requisite
L = Level
M = Total Mana
M = (P x L) / 2, rounding down (dropping any fractions)

Ah, yet another reminder the real spirit of old-school was not ‘rules-lite’, but ‘everyone makes up their own, very heavy, rules’. But let me see if I can follow this. My character in a BECMI game uses a DM-provided new class that’s a Charisma-based caster, akin to the 3.x sorcerer (but far weaker, because, THIS! IS! BECMI!). His charisma is 16, and his level, after 18 months of staying alive with a d4 for hit points, just hit 9. Thus, (16*9)/2 = 72. He would have 72 mana. Or manna. Both spellings are used interchangeably.

A spell’s cost is the square of its level, though the formula confusingly reads “L² x L”, which would the level cubed. However, the text examples make the true rule clear; the formula is either a typo or a remnant of an earlier edit.

Mana recovered per turn is (Constitution x Mana)/1000, and you should retain the decimal, it seems. So as my BECMI character has a Constitution of 15, thus, 15×72= 1080, divided by 1000=1.08 per turn. (At first level, I would have 8 mana, and thus a recover of 0.12/turn… basically, 1 point every 9 turns. At my current level, barring any modifiers coming up, fully recovering will take 66 turns.) There is a chart for those who don’t want to do the math, but honestly, the chart is more confusing than the formula, and also, is kind of a rip-off because it rounds down for “simplicity”, so you lose fractional points, slightly slowing regeneration.

Fatigued? You Bet!

Oh, You Meant Spell Fatigue!

Once you use over half your mana, you must check for fatigue, which can result in a drain to Constitution, but remember, when doing the calculations for your mana recovery rate, you still use your basic Constitution, unless it’s a Tuesday or it’s raining, in which case, use the Constitution of the player on your left, but only if they’re not wearing green; if they are, randomly…. wait, where was I?

Right. The formula for fatigue is: F% = 50((2D/M) – 1) , where M is your total mana, and D is the total mana you’ve spent. Might as well keep using the same example, so, since I have 72 mana, I will hit the ‘fatigue check’ after spending 36. Let’s assume I went from 40 mana down to 31, crossing the threshold. The total mana I’ve spent (D) is, 41. Doubled is 82, divided by 72=1.13, then I subtract 1 to get 0.13, then multiply by 50 to get 6.5%. So I have a 6.5% chance of Constitution loss.

No, wait! That’s not a chance of loss, that’s the percentage of my Constitution that is lost! So, uh, 6.5% of 15 is 0.975. Fortunately, fractions are dropped, so I don’t actually lose any.

But I need to repeat this calculation every time I cast a spell until I’m over the fatigue limit. As noted previously, though, I calculate it using my original Constitution, and it doesn’t add up — if I am down by 1.1 points, and the next time I cast a spell the result is 1.5, I’m still at -1 Con, until my total calculated loss is 2 or more, then I’m at -2, and so on. (You also can’t lose more than 50%.)

It’s not entirely clear what effect this has, other than the standard effects of lower constitution, namely, reduce hit point bonuses if you had any, system shock, etc. Stats in Ye Olde Dayse were less well-integrated into the system. I’m not sure if it reduces your mana recovery rate, which is Con-based.

One thing of which I am sure — I’ve got a headache. Yeesh.

Next Time

Tune in next time, when we’ll be told:

“A simpler formula is
Let:
L = Level to be attained
K = Character class constant (to be explained presently)
E = Total experience points needed
E = [K(L2 + L)]/2″

Simplicity itself!