I can’t do a murder mystery because the PCs will just cast speak with dead.

I’ve seen this sentiment a lot, but it’s never really made any sense to me: The act of investigating a mystery is one by which you reveal that which is unknown. When we talk about PCs casting a speak with dead spell, we’re describing a situation in which the players reveal that which is unknown (i.e., they investigate the mystery), but then, oddly, we’re supposed to conclude that they can’t investigate the mystery because they investigate the mystery.

I think part of the problem here lies in an erroneous instinct that I talked about as part of the Three Clue Rule:

There is a natural impulse when designing a mystery, I think, to hold back information. This is logical inclination: After all, a mystery is essentially defined by a lack of information. And there’s a difference between having lots of clues and having the murderer write his home address in blood on the wall.

But, in reality, while a mystery is seemingly defined by a lack of knowledge, the actual action of a mystery is not the withholding of knowledge but rather the discovery of knowledge.

Let me put it another way: Strip the magic out of this scenario. Imagine that you’ve designed a mystery scenario in which there was a witness to the crime. The PCs turn to this witness and say, “Who killed him?” and the witness says, “It was Bob.” And it turns out Bob is just standing there, so they arrest him. End of mystery.

You wouldn’t conclude that you can’t do mystery scenarios because people can talk to each other right?

Speak with dead should be no more alarming than an FBI team taking fingerprints or a CSI team enhancing video and running facial analysis.

DESIGN TO THE SPELL

You may also see people suggesting that you “nerf” the spell to one degree or another. (Corpses that refuse to answer questions, for example.) Nothing is more frustrating to a player than having their smart choices blocked because the GM has some preconceived notion of how they’re supposed to be investigating the crime.

But what you can do is design your mysteries to the reality of the spell. Generally speaking, after all, people in the game world know that the spell exists, right? So they aren’t going to plan their murders in ways that will expose them. (Any more than people in a magic-free setting will commit their murders while standing directly in front of surveillance of cameras.) They will find ways to conceal their identity; they may even find ways to try to use the spell to frame other people. (For example, imagine a murder scenario where the victim thinks one of the PCs did it because the perpetrator used a polymorph spell.)

OTHER DIVINATIONS

The same advice generally applies to other divination spells, too. The only divination effects which are truly problematic are those which allow you to contact omniscient beings and receive crystal clear information from them. Fortunately, these spells basically don’t exist in D&D (and most other games). The closest you can get are commune and contact other plane, but both are explicitly limited to the knowledge of the entity you’re contacting. (1st Edition AD&D actually had a lovely table for determining “Likelihood of Knowledge” and “Veracity”.)

FURTHER READING
Zone of Truth Mysteries
Three Clue Rule

Actually, I’m not 100% sure the title of this post is true: The last several times I’ve tried to work on Alexandrian-related content, I’ve instead twiddled my time away trying to resolve some site-related headache.

To whit: I was hoping to have content up starting on February 1st, but instead I’ve spent the past week disinfecting some files on the site that a WordPress security hole had compromised. Before that, the post preview images I’d set up broke (and I still haven’t figured out how to actually fix them, so you’re stuck with “A” logos for the moment). And I’ve spent this evening trying to figure out how to deal with the fact that Patreon — without actually informing anyone — has disabled pledges of less than $1. Speaking of which…

PATREON UPDATE: I have regretfully decided to cancel the Curious Item Club. This was previously a bonus for patrons pledging $0.50 per post, but sadly that’s no longer an option. Those who are current members of the Club will have legacy recognition on the Patrons of the Alexandrian page for as long as they remain patrons, but I will no longer be producing the monthly curious items.

One of the things I really liked about Patreon was the micro-payments it made possible. The Curious Item Club reward was originally rolled out as, IIRC, a $2 reward package, but I realized that (a) it wasn’t really worth that much and (b) the content was cool enough that I wanted it to be more widely shared by my patrons. Using the content as a way to encourage $0.10 patrons to bump their patronage up to $0.50 seemed to work okay (all things considered). One of the problems with the Curious Item Club, however, was that the time I spent creating content for that was time I wasn’t creating public content for the Alexandrian.  So I think letting it go at this point is the right way to go.

PATRONAGE GOING FORWARD: Although the minimum pledge is now $1, those who don’t feel they can afford that should remember that they can set a monthly maximum on their pledge.

WHAT’S NEXT: I have scenarios for Eclipse Phase and Trail of Cthulhu that I will likely be posting in the near-ish future. I’m hoping to get the archiving of my old RPGNet reviews restarted. The Art of Rulings has a number of additional installments that need to be written (on topics like the Fourfold Model, Group Checks, Social Skills, Hidden/Open Difficulty Numbers, and more). I’m also looking at a new series called The Art of Random Encounters. Also: Context Collisions for The Strange,  Running a Convention Game, and the Grok Threshold.

… even the smallest of pledges can add up to wondrous things.

According to a Scientific American article, the footprints of an elephant each contain dozens and possibly hundreds of different animals — mites, mayflies, backswimmers, leeches, and gastropods. Given proper conditions, such footprints can endure for weeks, giving them plenty of time to turn into little micro-habitats.

Which is super cool.

Now, scale it up for a fantasy world: A breathtaking colossus that slowly bestrides the world, leaving in its wake footprints a half-kilometer wide. Colossi gnomes scurry in its wake, delving into the exposed depths. Demonic creatures boil out of exposed underworlds. Such footprints could last for years or even decades, perhaps coming to support entire communities.

I really enjoyed Zach Snyder’s Watchmen movie. I felt that, despite the limitations of its form and the flaws in its creation, it still managed to capture many of the things that were amazing about the original work. (And the opening tableau is jaw-droppingly awesome.)

But he totally prat-falled when it came to the ending.

“I did it thirty-five minutes ago.”

THE DIG: 1939

In 1868 Frederick August Klein discovered the Mesha Stelae at the site of ancient Dibon. One of the stelae told of the anger of Chemosh, god of Moab, who returned to his people in a time of trouble in order to overthrow the Israelites who had oppressed them. The other told of the bleak artifact which Chemosh – the squamous, aquatic destroyer who had raped the goddess Ishtar and pillaged her flesh; who had feasted upon the flesh of children given as molk fire sacrifices in the valley of Topheth; whose blood flowed through the abominations of the children of Ammon – left behind to crush the Jews if they should ever threaten his people again.

When the Bani Hamida – the local Bedouin tribe – discovered that the stelae had been recovered they seized them. When the Ottomans ordered them to be turned over to the German consulate, they heated the stelae in a fire, threw cold water upon them, and broke them into pieces with boulders.

Fortunately, just before their destruction, Charles Simon Clermont-Ganneau – the noted French orientalist and archaeologist – had manged to obtain papier-mâché impressions of the stelae. So deeply disturbed was he by the content of the second stele, however, that he secreted it away, reporting only the existence of the first to the wider world in a paper written for the Revue de l’Instruction Publique. (He might not have done even so much if George Grove of the Palestine Exploration Fund had not announced the find in a letter to The Times.)

The second stele was recovered by the Ahnenerbe in 1936. After it was translated in early 1937, Heinrich Himmler decreed that the recovery of the artifact it described was of the utmost importance. A number of subsequent investigations – following the clues contained in the ancient stele – were undertaken.

It is now the summer of 1939. As Nazi agents of the SS, you have been hand-chosen to lead an archaeological expedition into the Middle East and conduct a dig near the ancient city of D’Khesh where it is believed the artifact was interred. Upon arrival in the region, you obtained the necessary permits, organized a crew of native diggers (mongrel half-breeds and the like), established your site, and commenced work.

Initial results have been promising, but the telegrams coming from Berlin have grown increasingly urgent and demanding. It seems that there is some great undertaking afoot in Germany, and the bane of Chemosh would be of untold benefit to the ultimate undertaking of the Aryan race.

Areas of Note: Officers’ tents, native labor encampment, the latrine, vehicle pool, supply tent, the dig site, the acacia tree, the endless dunes of sand, the seal of black stone, the crypt beneath

Goal: Retrieve the bane of Chemosh

Special Note: The scenario starts normally, but when the vault of Chemosh is breached the Sun, Stars, and Moon are blotted out by the Dark. Shortly thereafter, They will arrive.