Well… that was mediocre.

Okay, here’s some background:

(1) I am quite willing to stand up and defend the prequel trilogy films as being diamonds in rough. I feel that watching those films is roughly equivalent to watching the Special Edition versions of the original trilogy: There are good-to-great films buried in there, but they’ve been ruined by George Lucas’ inability to edit himself. The only difference is that we’ve seen the original versions of the A New Hope, The Empire Strikes Back, and Return of the Jedi — that makes it (relatively) easy for us to ignore the crap Lucas has shoveled on top of those films. With the prequel trilogy, we’ve never seen the version without the fart jokes.

(2) The original Star Wars: Clone Wars animated series was broadcast on the Cartoon Network. It had a story by George Lucas, but the project was largely spearheaded by Genndy Tartakovsky. This series was single-handedly responsible for rekindling my love of Star Wars. After years of abusive mediocrity, I had literally forgotten how much I loved this universe. After watching Clone Wars, I tracked down high quality versions of the original versions of the original trilogy and, watching them, I realized just how much I still loved these films and how much damage George Lucas had inflicted on his own creation.

(3) I wasn’t alone. The Clone Wars series was so popular it got extended for a second series. And when that was a success, Lucas decided to turn it into a full-blown TV series. The animation was “upgraded” from 2D cell art to 3D CGI, and then Lucas felt that was going so well that he took the first several episodes and packaged them into a feature film for theatrical release.

Unfortunately, somewhere along the line Genndy Tartakovsky didn’t make the cut. (He’s apparently working on the sequel to The Dark Crystal, a fact which fills me with glee.) The loss of Tartakovsky is unfortunate because, frankly, Star Wars: The Clone Wars doesn’t capture the same magic as its progenitor. (Note the difference between Star Wars: Clone Wars and Star Wars: The Clone Wars. Thanks for the crystal-clear titles.)

Basically, here’s the run-down:

(1) Visually, the animation style is surprisingly effective and often incredibly beautiful.

(2) Unfortunately, from a cinematic standpoint, the directing and visual storytelling just doesn’t cut it. There are lots of battles, for example, but none of them are particularly compelling or memorable.

(3) But certainly part of the problem the director has is that the script just isn’t that interesting. The story never manages to make me care about what’s going on (which is largely because nobody in the movie seems to care all that much), the dialogue is cliche-ridden, and the whole thing is riddled with plot holes and inconsistencies. Plus, while there’s often a lot of sound and fury, the author doesn’t find anything particularly unique to do with it. So in the battles, for example, there are lots of lasers being fired and lightsabers being swung around… but it’s just visual noise. Very pretty visual noise, but still utterly forgettable.

(4) Perhaps most disappointingly, the characters are largely flat (with one exception which I’ll note below). The only reason I even vaguely care about any of them is because of their previous appearances in other films. The argument could certainly be made that it would be difficult to do anything meaningful with characters who’s stories have already been told from beginning to end in the original six movies, but I can literally point directly at Tartakovsky’s work in the original animated series as an example of how you can always find fresh dramatic material.

(5) The pacing of the film is also very poor. But that leads me to a larger point, which is that this material was not originally intended to be a single feature film… and I think it shows. Amidala, for example, doesn’t show up until the third act of the film, and then plays an almost deus ex machina role in wrapping up the plot.

I suspect that if I had been watching this as three episodes of a television series, my reaction might have been more positive. (So I’m probably going to give the TV series a shot when it premieres.)

(6) It’s almost as if Lucas intentionally tries to find something incredibly stupid to put into his films. In this case, it’s Jabba the Hutt’s flamingly homosexual uncle. I just… I wish I was making that up.

(7) On the other hand, the one thing I did like was Anakin’s padawan, Ahsoka. Her initial introduction left me skeptical, but she rapidly grew on me despite the weak and repetitive nature of the script. She’s the one character that the film, on its own merits, makes me care about. And I’m mildly interested to see if the series can develop the serious dramatic potential in the relationship between Anakin and Ahsoka.

I’ve seen a few people trying to defend the weaknesses of this movie by saying that it’s “aimed at kids”.

Well, even if we ignore the PG rating of the film: So what? There is a difference between “aimed at kids” and “stupid”.

When I was a kid I could tell the difference between the stuff that I actually liked and the stuff that was created by some adult trying to patronize me. I don’t think I was alone. And I reject out of hand the flawed logic that “it’s OK that it’s bad because it’s just for kids”.

Star Wars: The Clone Wars isn’t a mediocre movie because it’s aimed at young teens. It’s a mediocre movie because it’s a mediocre movie.

I thought I’d written this on here before, but apparently I was just imagining that. In regards to Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull:

I would like to thank George Lucas for making the Star Wars prequels. Without the valuable training I have gleaned from those films, I would have found it much more difficult to ignore all the ridiculous foibles of this film and enjoy it as much as I did.

The trick, you see, lies in being able to instantly assess that something is both incredibly lame and completely irrelevant to the film. You then jettison that information instantaneously and go back to enjoying the rest of the film (which is rather good).

Michelangelo is quoted as saying, “I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free.”

I have a theory about George Lucas: He’s like Michelangelo. Except he’s gotten lazy and he doesn’t bother carving away all of the marble necessary to reveal the angel. The portions of the angel that you can see are still pretty awesome, but there’s all this other marble — the absurdities, the bathroom humor, the extraneous nonsense — getting in the way.

And, as I say, the Star Wars prequels trained me pretty well in the “fine art” of ignoring all that excess marble Lucas leaves lying around. So Lucas throws in some stupid scene with Shia LaBeouf swinging around like Tarzan and leading a tribe of monkeys, and I promptly reach into my brain, grab that idiocy, throw it away, and pretend as if the film existed without that scene (or the many other scenes like it).

And I’m happier for it.

Of course, the film itself is still flawed. But at least this way I can enjoy — in a somewhat marred fashion — the angel that could have been.

So, long story short vis-a-vis Kingdom of the Crystal Skull: A decent enough flick. I was hoping that Spielberg would be more successful in reining in Lucas’ excesses, but despite that it’s enjoyable enough. I mean, it’s not even close to being a Raiders of the Lost Ark or an Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, but it’s fun enough.

Before I say anything else, let me say this: The Dark Knight is probably the best superhero movie ever made. It may also be the best movie of the year. It may even deserve a spot in the Top 100 movies of all time (but that depends on a few more viewings and some reflection).

I’m not one of those fanboys who confuse geekgasms with quality (although there’s nothing wrong with a good geekgasm), but The Dark Knight really is that good: The scripting, directing, and acting all come together to create something that’s thematically, dramatically, and cinematically complex and rewarding. Heath Ledger’s performance, alone, would make the movie worth watching again and again — and he’s just one jewel among many.

SPOILER WARNING

With that being said, however, I did have one major problem with the movie: The ending, while thematically powerful, makes absolutely no sense.

BATMAN: They must never know what he did.

GORDON: Five dead! Two of them cops! Three crooked mobsters! You can’t sweep that under the rug!

BATMAN: We’ll say that I did it.

GORDON: What?

BATMAN: Admittedly, I have no motive. Plus everyone knows I don’t kill people. And there’s absolutely no way that you could know that I was responsible for these killings and I have absolutely no reason to confess it to you, but I think you should get on your radio right now and call it in.

GORDON: But Harvey is lying dead right here. And I haven’t even had time to get the story straight with my family. And what possible explanation could I give for my family being here anyway?

BATMAN: No. This has to happen. I can be this guy. I can be the Dark Knight. Call it in!

GORDON: … I’m sorry, were you still talking? I was just thinking about the hundreds of people — including dozens of cops and mobsters — that the Joker has killed all over the city in the past 24 hours.

BATMAN: What about them?

GORDON: Oh! Hey! Here’s an idea. If we’re going to cover up the truth anyway, how about we just blame the Joker?

BATMAN: Oh. Yeah. I guess that makes a lot more sense. I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinkiing.

GORDON: It’s okay. You’ve been hit in the head a lot today.

Oh, wait. I’m sorry. That’s not the actual ending of the movie. That’s just the Way It Should’ve Ended.

But, seriously, the ending of the movie bugged me. This type of logical plot hole usually bugs me, but I think it particularly stood out in the case of The Dark Knight because the rest of the movie was so unmitigatingly perfect. It’s like the difference between seeing a fly land on your hot dog during a picnic and seeing a fly in your soup at a $100-per-plate restaurant.

But I think it also stands out because this particular plot point was being used to tie together the thematic content of the entire film. And that thematic content was rich and powerful, so seeing it become fatally flawed at (literally) the last minute was very disappointing for me. It was like watching Achilles get shot in the heel.

And, to be sure, it would be very difficult to have corrected this problem without losing the thematic closure of the film. Off-hand, I think the only solution would have been to have Two-Face bring together everyone he felt was responsible for Rachel’s death in order to determine their fate. (This would have put Batman at the scene of the murders, made it more important for a scapegoat to be found, and allowed for the creation of a plausible narrative — mobsters and crooked cops kill Harvey Dent, Batman takes revenge.) By opting for the more streamlined approach of having Two-Face kill them (or spare them) in a series of encounters, the narrative is simplified… but, unfortunately, it’s simplified to the point of making it nonsense.

Is this a nit? Yes.

But I can also draw a direct line between this foible of The Dark Knight and a similar problem with Batman Begins: Specifically, the scene in Ra’s al Ghul’s compound at the end of Bruce Wayne’s training when he’s asked to execute a murderer and refuses. Again, this is a thematic lynchpin for the movie. And, again, it makes no bloody sense.

BRUCE: I won’t execute this man. I am not a killer… And because I’m not a killer, I will KILL ALL OF YOU.

… say what?

I guess we’re supposed to give him a pass because he saves the life of Ra’s al Ghul. But, oddly enough, the theme of the movie is a little less powerful when interpreted as “I’m different than the criminals because I won’t kill anyone played by a recognizable movie star”.

I have similar problems with the end of Batman Begins, which suffers from two gaping holes in its logic:

(1) You have a machine which vaporizes water inside metal pipes buried underground… but has no effect on any of the fleshy bags of water wandering the streets of Gotham. (By “fleshy bags of water”, of course, I mean “human beings”.) I don’t have a problem swallowing super-technology in a superhero movie, but could you at least try not to insult my intelligence?

(2) Batman seems to consistently suffer a lobotomy at the end of these movies:

BATMAN: I have a plan. Wait until the train that’s a couple blocks away starts moving. Then you drive the Batmobile and race the train towards Wayne Tower. Just before it gets there, blow up the pylons nearest to Wayne Tower and cause the entire train to collapse.

GORDON: And what will you be doing?

BATMAN: I’ll be on the train, fighting a largely meaningless battle with Ra’s al Ghul.

GORDON: Or — and this is just an idea mind you — why don’t you just get back in the Batmobile right now and blow up the train pylons we’re practically standing right next to. Or any of the other pylons between here and Wayne Tower.

BATMAN: Huh, that’s actually a pretty good idea.

GORDON: Or I could just place a quick call to Wayne Tower and tell them to cut the power supply to the tracks.

BATMAN: Huh. Okay, that’s an even better idea. I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.

GORDON: It’s okay. You’ve been hit in the head a lot today.

These were not my only problems with Batman Begins: The character of Rachel — although powerfully redeemed in The Dark Knight — was a complete waste in Batman Begins. Batman’s willingness to engage in mass property destruction with seemingly little regard for the consequences or the lives that might be lost was not only disturbing, but also unnecessary and thematically inappropriate. Also, the destruction of Wayne Manor seemed wasteful and pointless.

But there’s also a part of me that feels a trifle Scrooge-like in making these (perfectly legitimate) critiques, because there is so much to love about both these movies. Batman Begins may be a significantly flawed film, but it’s also a very good film. And The Dark Knight, as I have already mentioned, may have one glaring imperfection, but is otherwise one of the best movies ever made.

I am particularly entranced with Nolan’s thematic exploration of the Batman mythos.

For example, the concept of “fear” has always lain at he heart of Batman’s origin. In Detective Comics #33, the original telling of that origin, we can read:

WAYNE: Criminals are a superstitious cowardly lot. So my disguise must be able to strike terror into their hearts. I must be a creature of the night. Black, terrible… a… a…

–as if in answer, a huge bat flies in the open window!

WAYNE: A bat! That’s it! It’s an omen… I shall become a BAT!

And thus was born this weird figure of the dark… This avenger of evil. The BATMAN.

And so it was perfectly natural for Batman Begins to put the words “I shall turn fear against those who prey on the fearful” into the mouth of Bruce Wayne. But giving Wayne himself the fear of bats as a young child and then having that fear create the situation that results in the death of his parents is a master-stroke. It allows Nolan to thematically ground Batman’s origin story into a character arc of overcoming and then inverting that fear.

This achievement by itself — taking an existing theme of the character and deepening it — is impressive. But Nolan doubles down again and again by exploring the concept, theme, and use of “fear” from as many angles as possible: Ra’s al Ghul, the Scarecrow, and Carmine Falcone all use fear in different ways. Gotham City itself is described repeatedly as a place of fear. And, of course, the entire plot is driven by fear in its many aspects.

When you create a work of art that explores a theme as deeply and richly as Batman Begins explores the concept of “fear”, the work can take on a life of its own. Beyond whatever statement Nolan himself might have been trying to make, the work itself is so complex and comprehensive in its treatment of the subject that the audience will find its own meanings reflected in the material. Different people will find different aspects of the movie resonating for them in different ways. And this also makes it a movie that’s not just fun to watch again, but rewarding to watch again.

We see a similar thematic exploration and expansion on multiple levels in The Dark Knight. The title itself alludes to this as the movie creates a contrast between the White Knight (Dent) and the Dark Knight (Batman).

Even the rivalry between Batman and the Joker is deepened. There has, of course, always been a sick and twisted dance between the two characters. One doesn’t have to look any farther than the Joker’s death in Frank Miller’s The Dark Knight Returns to see that. But when Ledger’s Joker says, “I think you and I are destined to do this forever.” It’s a haunting moment that rings painfully true.

And I think the reason it rings so painfully true is because Nolan has done such a remarkably effective job, throughout the entire film, of establishing this as the confrontation that happens when “an unstoppable force meets an immovable object” in the “fight for this city’s soul”.

When Nolan plays these themes — the Joker vs. the Batman; the White Knight vs. the Dark Knight; the corruptible vs. the incorruptible — against each other, the resulting tapestry is woven together into a deeply moving and deeply meaningful narrative.

I’ve already seen The Dark Knight twice. But it’s a movie that I will need to see many more times before I’ll be able to truly appreciate the depth and subtelty of Nolan’s accomplishment. And it will always be a movie that rewards another viewing… no matter how many viewings I’ve given it.

Continuing on from Part 1 and Part 2…

SPOILER WARNING!

The following thoughts contain minor spoilers for Keep on the Shadowfell. If you don’t want to be spoiled, don’t read it. And if you’re in my gaming group then you definitely shouldn’t be reading it.

OVERALL IMPRESSIONS

My overall impression with the plot and structure of the adventure can be pretty much summed up with this: I kept flipping back to the credits page to convince myself that Mike Mearls and Bruce Cordell were actually responsible for this.

Bruce Cordell, for example, also wrote the inaugural module for 3rd Edition: The Sunless Citadel. The Sunless Citadel was a piece de resistance. I’ve played it once and ran it twice and I consider it one of the best D&D modules ever written.

Keep on the Shadowfell, on the other hand, seems rather lifeless and predictable. It’s a paint-by-numbers D&D adventure.

Generic Fantasy Village #1 (a.k.a. Winterhaven) is lifeless, filled with cardboard cut-outs who are scripted with quests as if they were stock pieces lifted from Ye Local CRPG.

The Generic Goblin Encounters are uninspiring: Ambush. Guards. Barracks. Boss. Repeat.

Fight zombies in underground crypt. Fight skeletons in graveyard.

Fight Evil Priest in Demon Fane.

And I know that these are all classic archetypes that get used all the time. Heck, I’m using some of them right now in my Ptolus campaign. But you can use classic archetypes and breathe fresh life into them and you can use classic archetypes and end up with bland cardboard.

My impression of Keep on the Shadowfell, having read through it, is one of bland cardboard.

But this puts me in something of an awkward position. I still want to use Keep on the Shadowfell as a test run for 4th Edition, but I’ve only got one of two options:

(1) Run the adventure as written, despite the fact that I think there are fundamental adventure design problems that largely have nothing to do with the 4th Edition ruleset.

(2) Try to redesign the adventure.

The problem with option one is that the design problems could end up poisoning the well. If the session flops, is that because 4th Edition is a flop? Or does it just mean that the adventure isn’t any good?

The problem with option two is that I don’t actually know 4th Edition. If I go in and start mucking around with the encounter designs, I could very easily end up unwittingly sabotaging things that make 4th Edition fun to play in ways that 3rd Edition isn’t. In other words, I could end up inadvertently obviating the entire point of the exercise.

So I think what I’ll probably end up doing is something like a remix of the module: Leave the encounter design alone, but go in and futz around with the fluff text. Give the adventure a stronger backbone and a richer mythology. Flesh out Winterhaven to give it some unique character and depth. Maybe add a few more encounters to make the threat posed by the Keep a little more real and pervasive.

We’ll see how that goes. I’ll post an update once I’ve actually run the playtest. (Which, unfortunately, may not be for a couple more weeks. We had originally scheduled it for May 24th. But then the release date was pushed back and I didn’t actually get the module until May 22nd, so that was out of the question.)

Continuing my thoughts from yesterday, this time with a…

SPOILER WARNING!

The following thoughts contain minor spoilers for Keep on the Shadowfell. If you don’t want to be spoiled, don’t read it. And if you’re in my gaming group then you definitely shouldn’t be reading it.

You have been fairly warned.

(10) The editing is atrocious. I can only hope they do a better job with the actual core rulebooks. For example, I’m pretty sure that the Empire of Nerath and the Empire of Nareth are actually the same thing.

(11) Unfortunately, these types of gratuitous errors aren’t limited to the fluff content. The rules are also riddled with errors. For example, the quick start rules define two types of cover: Normal Cover and Superior Cover. These are naturally referred to in various places throughout the adventure: A treeline or a boulder or a piece of furniture will either grant normal cover or it will grant superior cover.

Unfortunately, some obstacles will also grant “cover” — which is neither “normal cover” nor “superior cover”. I’m guessing that I’m supposed to interpret “cover” as being “normal cover”, but when you take the trouble to define a precise technical term then you should make the effort to actually use the precise technical terms you’ve defined.

(12) Other rules aren’t explained properly. For example, when describing the rules for handling a pit trap, the module states “if a bull rush forces a creature into the pit, it can immediately attempt a saving throw to avoid going over the edge”. Fair enough. But I’ve been led to understand from other sources that this is true for any type of forced movement that would cause a character to suffer falling damage. Almost all of the pregen PCs, in fact, have forced movement abilities. Why didn’t they include the complete rule?

(13) Another example: Upon first reading the Quick Start Rules, I was annoyed by the fact that a dying character was doomed to die unless someone helped them. According to the Quick Start Rules, a dying character must make a saving throw each round. If they succeed, their condition stays the same. If they fail three times, however, they die. Apparently, I thought, no one ever wakes up on their own after being knocked unconscious in 4th Edition Land.

I have since been led to understand that, in other preview material, the full rule has been revealed: If you roll a natural 20 on your saving throw, you wake up with one-quarter your hit points. Why on earth wasn’t that sentence included?

(14) Several NPCs in the adventure use rules (like the recharge rules and aura rules) which are never explained. This, frankly, is completely inexcusable in an introductory product.

(15) Making the rules even more confusing is the fact that there are actually two sets of Quick Start Rules: One for the players and another for the DM. At first I thought this was a practical piece of utilitarian design: The DM can have a copy of the rules for easy reference and so can the players.

But then I discovered that they were actually two different sets of Quick Start Rules. And for reasons beyond my comprehension, the player’s Quick Start Rules don’t include a lot of the rules the players will need to play their characters. (For example, they don’t even include all of the rules necessary to understand the abilities on the pregenerated character sheets.)

So, for me, the entire player’s Quick Start Rules packet is useless: I’ll be xeroxing the pregenerated characters out of it (so that they can actually be used) and I’ll be xeroxing the DM’s Quick Start Rules so that my players will actually have the rules they need to play the game.

(16) The first two encounters in the adventure use the exact same map and the exact same concept (kobolds ambush the party while they’re traveling on the road). The sense of deja vu was palpable even as I was reading it. I can only imagine the experience at the game table will be moreso.

What makes this design even more ridiculous is that the second ambush on the road doesn’t make sense. The first ambush happens while the PCs are on their way to the village of Winterhaven. The second is supposed to happen shortly after they leave it. But after leaving Winterhaven, the adventure assumes the PCs will go to one of two locations: Either a dragon burial site or the kobold lair.

Neither of these locations lie on the road. The most direct route from Winterhaven to either location is, in fact, directly through the wilderness. So why does the adventure assume you’ll be able to (essentially) reuse the ambush-on-the-road scenario when the PCs won’t be on a road?

(17) “The tall hobgoblin calls to the others in Common: ‘Don’t kill ’em. We can sell ’em to the Bloodreavers as slaves.'”

This is apparently a bit of foreshadowing for H2 Thunderspire Labyrinth. Pity they didn’t include any rules for dealing nonlethal damage.

(18) The skill challenges in this adventure are particularly lackluster. In particular, they continue to demonstrate the same railroading qualities that the sample posted to WotC’s website did. It’s possible that this is merely because this is an introductory adventure, but it certainly didn’t do much to convince me that the core rulebooks are going to resolve any of the problems I have with the mechanics WotC has shown us.

(19) Speaking of skill challenges, let’s talk about Sir Keegan. Sir Keegan was the last commander of the keep before being driven mad by the emanations of the Shadowfell Rift. In his madness he killed his wife and his closest friends before the garrison of the keep turned on him, drove him into the dungeons beneath the keep, and sealed the entrance behind him. In the dungeons, Sir Keegan regained his sanity and, overcome with remorse, poisoned himself. He somehow ended up as a sentient undead skeleton (the details here are vague), and dedicated himself to making sure that the Shadowfell Rift was never open.

Now, bearing that story in mind, consider how the PCs will encounter Sir Keegan for the first time:

The raised dais in this old crypt holds a single coffin. Carved on the lid of the coffin is a warrior in plate armor with a sword laid across his chest, the point toward his feet. The heavy coffin lid explodes in a flurry of dust. A humanoid skeleton girded in plate armor rises from the cloud. It holds aloft a longsword. “The rift must never be opened!” it croaks. “State your business, or prepare to die!”

Wow. Dramatic.

But let’s take a moment and analyze this: Who, exactly, built this crypt for him? Did he just decide to have one built for himself on the off-chance he might need it in the event that he would be driven insane, go on a murderous rampage, and then be trapped in the dungeons beneath the keep by his own men?

Well, perhaps Sir Keegan was a master stone-carver. And, after being trapped in the dungeons without any food, quickly chiseled out a crypt for himself before poisoning himself. And, naturally, after dedicating himself to making sure that the rift was never opened again he would just seal himself inside that crypt and never emerge… even while cultists set up shop next door and begin working to open the rift.

Makes perfect sense… right?

Okay, setting those problems aside, let’s turn our attention to the meat of this encounter: The social skill challenge that Sir Keegan triggers. A social skill challenge that will result in brilliant conversational gems like this one:

KEEGAN: You wear a fearsome demeanor. Are you really as formidable as you look?

PC: <makes an Intimidate check> Yup!

KEEGAN: Awesome. Well, in that case I totally believe that you’re here to stop the cultists. Would you like my magic sword?

… sound kinda cheesy? Well, perhaps you’ll prefer this one:

KEEGAN: If you trust your senses not to betray you, tell me what you see before you.

PC: <makes a Perception check> Umm… a dead guy standing in the remains of his crypt?

KEEGAN: Wow! You’ve got keen eyes! With eyes like those you must be here to stop the cultists. Would you like my magic sword?

Seriously. I’m not even kidding around. Keegan’s first bit of dialogue in each example is lifted straight from the module, as is the suggested skill check. In order to succeed at this social skill challenge, the PCs have to make four successful skill checks before failing at four skill checks, with each skill check representing a Q&A exchange. (The PCs can also decide to go with straight up Diplomacy and/or Bluff checks if they prefer.)

(20) They finally fixed the encounter format they pioneered in the waning days of 3rd Edition. They’re still using the useful and easy-to-access two-page spread for each encounter, but rather than splitting crucial information across two different locations (by having a keyed description in one place and the encounter information in another), they’re using the encounter format for each keyed area.

I note, however, that the format requires every last square inch of a dungeon to be covered by an encounter. I suspect they consider this a feature: “After all,” they’ll say, “An empty room is a boring room.”

But, of course, just because a room doesn’t have a monster or a trap in it doesn’t mean that it’s empty or boring. More importantly, if the PCs know that there’s going to be something exciting behind every single door that they kick in, it rather lessens the moment of anticipation.

The other thing I’ll note about the new format is that the designers made a big deal in their pre-release publicity about how 4th Edition would be featuring multi-room encounters. I guess this is sort of true, but the only thing that’s really changed is that they’re drawing their arbitrary “monsters won’t go past this point” lines in slightly different ways. I doubt I’ll be seeing any meaningful difference in play, since my 3rd Edition campaigns already feature multi-room running battles on a regular basis. This is another one of those areas where my experience seems to have been considerably at odds with the “common wisdom”.

But we’ll see what happens in actual gameplay. It would actually be pretty awesome if I was totally surprised.

To be continued…