From the Blog

Dec
17
Posted by Daniel at 11:56 pm
  • Until an actual fight against fit opposition breaks out, don’t use the combat system.
  • Instead, if you’re doing violence to someone, just make an appropriate attack roll against the appropriate defense, modified per circumstances as appropriate.
  • On a hit, things go your way.
  • On a miss, things get out of control. Like this:
    • You accidentally hurt/kill someone (e.g., I only meant to knock him out!)
    • They get away
    • They sound the alarm
    • They hit the deck/dig in/dive for cover
    • They attack you

RAW 4e (and #e as well) is pretty much not going to let you do the “knock the guard out” thing. Unless all your guards are minions. That’s a possibility.

Because, lookit: if this were a movie, or any kind of media really, it would be possible to one shot snipe that big huge hobgoblin across the way. But, RAW, it’s not possible. (Unless maybe, maybe, you critted on two dailies, but why would you be doing that against a sentry?)

So above is how you fix it.

Dec
17
Posted by Daniel at 11:55 pm
  • When a character suffers damage and (after the damage is applied) is not bloodied, say how that character (choose one most appropriate to the fiction):
    • Stumbles back
    • Gets shoved down
    • Drops his weapon
    • Drops his guard
    • Exposes a weakness in his armor
    • Screams out in pain
    • Backs off, breathing heavily
    • Has something he carries break/shatter/fall off
    • Loses track of something/someone
    • Gets grappled/trapped/cornered
  • When a character suffers damage and (after the damage is applied) is bloodied, say how that character (choose one most appropriate to the fiction):
    • Has something happen off the unbloodied list
    • Retreats post haste
    • Screams out in pain
    • Crumples to his knees
    • Clutches his wound
    • Eyes you like an animal (or, if an animal, a human)
    • Has blood:
      • Trickle down
      • Stain clothes
      • Get in eyes
      • Flow down hair
      • Spurt like a geyser
      • Seep like molasses
      • Spurt like water from a garden hose with you thumb stuck in the end
    • Has bits fall off
    • Cries for mercy
    • Cries for mommy
    • Crawls away from/toward source of pain
    • Thousand yard stare
    • Yammer/stammer/gibber
    • Suicidal rage mode: activate
  • When a character suffers damage and (after the damage is applied) is at or below 0 hp, say how that character (choose one most appropriate to the fiction):
    • Suffers a grievous wound
    • Gets knocked unconscious
    • Passes out from blood loss
    • Dies immediately and horrifically on the spot
    • Does whatever the player says he does
    • Surrenders and offers the PCs something he thinks will save him
    • Retreats post haste
    • Starts to die, not quickly
    • Confesses to you

(I have no idea why WordPress is making my bullet points not align correctly.)

Anyway, this is intended to tie the mechanics more securely to the fiction. Some but not necessarily all of these selections could be accompanied by a +2/-2 circumstantial penalty to make them stick. Like, “he staggers back; he can’t take an opportunity attack against you.” Or “you bang his shield so hard, he can’t hold it in place; he’s got -2 AC if anyone attacks him right now.”

These choices also cover morale. Many of the bloodied choices imply giving up or otherwise becoming a non-present threat.

These should apply to PCs and NPCs alike, although, to maintain a heroic feel, you should use the softer bloodied and 0 hp options.

Dec
17
Posted by Daniel at 11:29 pm
  • When you begin an encounter, do not roll initiative.
  • Instead, describe the scene: say what the characters see the monsters doing:
    • Charging
    • Cooking supper
    • Cooking humans for supper
    • Taking cover
    • Readying the big bad thing
    • Booking it
    • Displaying destruction-demanding depravity
    • Advancing in ranks
    • Setting up sniper fire to cover the dudes just rushing in
  • Ask the players what their characters do. Don’t worry about order. You will see a natural sequence emerge. If there is a question of order, roll off initiative between the relevant parties to settle it.
  • Resolve the actions. If they just want to move, okay. If they want to shoot, okay. If they want to wade into melee, okay. Handle each situation one at a time. It’s okay if it’s a little chaotic. Embrace interruptions: “Oh, before he does that, I want to do this.” Great.
  • When a PC succeeds at what he’s doing (hitting with an attack, moving, taking full defense, whatever), that’s it: move on to spotlight the next player.
  • When PC fails at what he’s doing (missing with an attack, generally), hold the spotlight on that character a while longer.
  • Something went wrong. Think what it was (losing footing, being overwhelmed by numbers, sipping on ichor, clanging into the chitin at the wrong angle). Whatever it was, it presents an opportunity for the monsters to nail him.
  • Say what went wrong, and let that leads you into saying how it let the monsters mess with him.
    • Think: earlier, before you asked the players what they were doing, when you said what the monsters were doing, were any of those monsters threatening the PC that just missed? (I mean threatening conceptually, not just being in melee range.)
    • If not, think: does it makes sense for a monster to now threaten that PC? If so, say how. If not, lucky for him.
    • If so, follow through on that threat: the arrow being aimed at him gets fired; the swords being raised at him give him a shave. Roll the relevant attacks versus him now. If he was surrounded by three minions, and the shaman was in back tossing lightning bolts to him like candy at a parade, make attack rolls for all four now.
  • Move on to the next player.
  • When you’ve spotlighted every player like this, the round ends. It’s now the next round.
  • Repeat.

This is intended to make misses feel less like whiffs and more like “Oh snap I’m done for now.”

It’s also intended to keep you from having to track initiative.

It’s also intended to keep the fictional action less predictable.

Dec
17
Posted by Daniel at 10:58 pm
  • When you miss with an attack, you still do damage: roll its damage expression.
  • When you hit with an attack, you do its full damage expression, no need to roll damage.
  • When you crit an unbloodied enemy, do your attack’s full damage expression. If this does not bloody him, bloody him now.
  • When you crit a bloodied enemy, do your attack’s full damage expression. If this does not take the enemy to 0 hp or below, immediately take him to 0 hp.

D&D combats (not just 4e) are possibly infinitely long. Say we have a PC fighter and a goblin. They both have, say, a 50% chance to hit. Every round, it’s possible that both miss. The sun could burn out before that goblin buys it.

In practice, it means that combats take longer than they should because, on likely a third of turns, nothing happens. Whiff. If you spent any time selecting powers, that time was wasted. That’s what these rules address. (And, if you want to be more severe, have crits mean insta-zero-hp period, skipping the bloodied step. Whether you apply this to the PCs or not depends on the aesthetic you’re wanting to evoke.)

And we should understand, in fiction, these changes don’t mean that the fighter cuts the goblin’s head off every time he hits. Hit points are abstract. One “attack” takes six seconds. Losing hp doesn’t even represent taking a hit. (I’d even have an informal understanding where “bloodied” means bloodied—for the first time. Before then, everybody’s dodging, blocking, getting flesh wounds and bruises. Then someone gets bloodied, and things get real.) It represents being pressured and wearied always and only sometimes suffering actual violence.

Revised: hp loss represents assault (usually with a deadly & magic weapon) and only sometimes battery.

All that to say: here, I think this will produce more engaging play.

Sep
08
Posted by Daniel at 12:59 am

With a hat tip to Apocalypse World:

Give every NPC a name.

I don’t mean, necessarily, a personal name. That goblin over there might not even have himself a Christian name. But don’t refer to him as “goblin 1.” If not personal names, give them descriptive names. Make them up on the spot. Maybe you think, “Oh, man, this goblin, right? He’s just got one arm! And this other one’s only wearing half a leather cuirass like it’s some chick’s half-shirt or something.”

Don’t worry about making them memorable; just try to make them distinct. If you come up with “sword goblin,” that’s fine! It’s the goblin with a sword. But you’ll have to think of something in case he’s disarmed. Maybe “the goblin formerly known as sword goblin.”

Don’t say the label.

If the players are searching for the trap and find it, for goodness’ sake don’t say, “You find a trap.” Instead, say, “When you rip through the pelt, there’s nothing underneath, just mud and rock about 20 feet down, with a bunch of  skulls littered around and femurs stuck into the ground pointy end up.”

Yes, it’s a pit trap, but isn’t this a better thing to say than “pit trap?”

The reason you do this

is to keep the players grounded in the fiction as imagined. The more I hear about “bandit 1,” the more I think “this is a game.” The more I hear about the “guy with the mismatched boots,” the more I’m thinking about the fiction as such—what things look like, smell like, feel like.

Ashardalon stomping us.

This really happened.

As I promised here, this is the review of the “full version” of Wizard of the Coast‘s new boardgame Wrath of Ashardalon.

To start off, let me tell you: I think I did something wrong.

Maybe it was just bad luck, but the game was hard. Really hard. So hard that we didn’t get past the first level because Ashardalon got all up in and firebreathed us to death.

We tried to use the campaign rules, and I just don’t think I read them correctly. I’m going to blame someone else for that, though. I think that’s the fault of the game rules. In fact, I’m still not sure whether I read them correctly or not.

The rules are very brief, and there’s not, if I recall correctly, an index. If there is, I didn’t see it somehow during the game.

In any case, when Ashardalon showed up, we thought “Really?” It seems like, if you’re playing campaign mode, Ashardalon shouldn’t show up in any definitive manner until, you know, the end. Being the boss and all.

I’m thinking the idea is to chain together the 12 or so adventures in the book, and that’s what Campaign mode is. Oh, and take out the Ashardalon-shows-up-and-kicks-your-first-level-heroes-in-the-butt card.

That’s how we’re going to play it next time.

In any case, despite all that, I still had a blast. I know another player did. I’m guessing the other two players had a lukewarm reaction. And I understand it. Especially if you’re already a D&D player, you might come to this game expecting something more like D&D. For me, it was just enough. For others, you could get a lot of sweet components and, with some none-too-difficult modding, make the whole thing compatible with standard 4E.

I will tell you that the thing kept me in a state of dread the whole time. I like that. It’s like what playing a good horror game (or watching a good horror movie) is like: you don’t want to keep playing, but you can’t help it.

Also? The environmental hazard switchups are, on a conceptual level, completely hilarious. Here’s how it goes:

“Oh, man, hidden snipers! People are everywhere shooting at us! Better stay together!”

Two turns later:

“Oh, man! The walls are made of magma all of a sudden! GET AWAY FROM THOSE THINGS!”

In the end (after one halfway successful playthrough), I’m not sure it’s worth the sticker price unless you’re got a decent group to break up the financial pain. We’ll play it again, and I think our experience will be improved, but I think, in order to level up, this game needs to expand the scope of player choice. What I really want from it? A stripped down, videogamed up version of 4E. It could happen. It should happen. And it would look something like this game. Just not quite like this game.

Mar
04

Wrath of Ashardalon
I picked up Wizard of the Coast‘s new board game Wrath of Ashardalon today.

We’re going to play it tomorrow morning. I figured there would be 10,000,000 components to punch out, and that was right. I spent at least half an hour at that.

But, before the manual labor, I read through the rulebook (not having any experience with the prior boardgame Castle Ravenloft) and the adventure book.

And it turns out you can play this thing solo! It’s divided into 12 “adventures,” with an option to play everything in “campaign” form with some expanded rules. Very cool.

So I tried out the solo adventure. I choose the dwarf fighter chick and got down to business.

Now, keeping in mind that my experience is a single solo adventure with one character, here we go:

I liked it. That’s it. It was fun. I would have rather played it than most videogames. I would rather have kept playing it than get back to Dead Space 2, which I love. I’m not saying I prefer it to that—I’m merely saying it held my interest well, and that’s saying something.

The game works by having the party share a group of “healing surges,” which are not healing surges as you remember them from 4e. Instead, they’re more like a collectively owned share of phoenix downs from Final Fantasy. Anyone can use them when he goes down, and they restore around half of your health, varying for class/race.

The difficulty of the “adventure” is modified by altering the default number of healing surges the party receives. I believe the default is 2. I decided to play without assuming I’d be able to use any, just to test the difficulty in a statistically insignificant way.

In the end, I used one: during the boss fight, on the round before the last one, when a wall exploded behind me and sprayed me with lava.

Yeah, that happens.

I used it, killed the boss, and got out of there.

The whole experience was tense. My wife can testify. Every five minutes, she’d hear me shout something because I was sure I was going to die the next round. But the “kill a monster -> get a random bonus” flow worked to keep me alive—that and very literal readings of the monster tactics card. I played them as stupid as I possibly could, and I think I did it correctly.

If you’re just some forever alone dude that doesn’t have any friends that play boardgames, don’t get it. It’s fun, but it’s not worth the pricetag for single player unless you get it on the cheap somewhere. Now, if you have friends, I imagine this thing is a barrel of laughs.

Look for my multiplayer review tomorrow.