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Running Castle Blackmoor

September 29th, 2018

Castle Blackmoor

October 1st is Dave Arneson Day, a celebration of the Father of Roleplaying Games on the day of his birth. After writing up Reactions to OD&D: The Arnesonian Dungeon, I decided that I wanted to celebrate Dave Arneson Day this year by running Castle Blackmoor. And I specifically wanted to do so in a way which would closely emulate the feel of that very first session when Arneson’s players walked into the basement, discovered Castle Blackmoor, and ventured down the stairs into the dungeons beneath it.

I relatively quickly decided on a few mission parameters for this endeavor.

First, I wasn’t interested in trying to re-engineer the original rules Arneson used, if for no other reason than that this is, in fact, flatly impossible. Arneson kept no records of those rules, he never shared them with anyone (including the players), he redesigned them so often that I doubt even he remembered what the original rules were by 1973, and I’ve already done the “explore mysterious ur-text mechanics and cobble a game out of them” thing (see Reactions to OD&D).

Second, my specific point of interest was the way in which Arneson organically created the dungeon; i.e., the game structures he used for stocking and re-stocking the dungeon. As described in The Arnesonian Dungeon this is something that we’re able to tease out of the surviving record with a fair amount of detail (if not necessarily the specific charts and so forth).

Third, my interest in exploring the established canon of Blackmoor was fairly minimal. This can be a fascinating topic (although frustratingly scant; so many players, but very few memories, and the memories that have been recorded often contradict each other and the written records), but Blackmoor was (and arguably is) a living campaign with 40+ years of history which has been inconsistently reflected in disparate printed sources. Rather than enmeshing myself in that sort of Byzantine continuity, what I was interested in was creatively positioning myself in the same place Dave Arneson creatively positioned himself on Day 1 of the Blackmoor Dungeons and then moving forward from there.

What did this approach mean in practice?

  • Take the original maps of the dungeon as presented in the First Fantasy Campaign.
  • Recreate the original monster and treasure stocking tables to the best of our ability, then use them to stock the maps.
  • Establish a minimal baseline of “established lore”, largely based on the material in the First Fantasy Campaign.
  • Set up a scenario reminiscent of Greg Svenson’s recollection of The First Dungeon Adventure.
  • Run the game using just the original three OD&D booklets.

I want to be quite clear here and reiterate that my goal is not to perfectly recreate Arneson’s original dungeon key. Or even to take the limited information we know about that dungeon key and then fill in the holes around those fragments. For example, the fact that I haven’t put 2 Lycanthropes in Area 18 of the 8th Level (as found in the FFC key) is not a mistake; that’s simply not what I’m trying to do here.

I was rather hoping to have all of this prepared for public presentation several weeks ago so that others could also use it for Dave Arneson Day this year. Unfortunately, I ended up going down a few too many rabbit holes with my research. (And, as I write this, I’m still trying to figure out to exactly what degree I want to rely strictly on the maps from the First Fantasy Campaign and to what degree I want to avail myself of other efforts to correct shortcomings and inaccuracies in those maps.) Hopefully you will still find it of interest, and perhaps some of you will find some other occasion for using this material.

If nothing else, there’s always next year, right?

STOCKING THE DUNGEON

STEP 1: CHECK FOR INHABITED ROOMS

  • 1st Level: 1 in 6
  • 2nd Level: 2 in 6
  • 3rd+ Level: 3 in 6

STEP 2: DETERMINE PROTECTION POINTS

  • Roll 1d10 and multiply by the level’s protection factor.
LEVELPROTECTION FACTOR
1st Level5 points
2nd Level10 points
3rd Level15 points
4th Level25 points
5th Level35 points
6th Level40 points
7th Level50 points

STEP 3: ROLL ON MONSTER LEVEL TABLES

Simple Option: Once a creature type is determined, purchase the maximum number of creatures allowed by your protection point budget (minimum 1).

Complex Option: Roll Number Appearing on the OD&D monster tables. (This is indicated on the monster level tables for ease of reference.)

  • Purchase as many monsters of that type as your protection point budget allows up to the Number Appearing generated (minimum 1).
  • If you run out of Protection Points before hitting the Number Appearing and have points left over, purchase a weak version of the same creature (baby, etc.).
  • If you purchase the full Number Appearing and have Protection Points left over, roll again on the monster level table to create a mixed encounter.

STEP 4: GENERATE TREASURE

Determine Presence of Treasure: 3 in 6 chance for occupied rooms; 1 in 6 chance in unoccupied rooms.

Determine Treasure Type

D6TREASURE TYPE
1-2Gold
3Potions & Amulets
4Arms & Armor
5Equipment
6Roll Again Twice (Stacks)

MONSTER LEVEL TABLES

Use:

  • Group I for 1st and 2nd dungeon level
  • Group II for 3rd and 4th dungeon level
  • Group III for 5th+ dungeon level

GROUP I

D10MONSTER# APPEARINGPOINT COST
1Orc30-3002
2Elf / Fairy30-3004
3Dwarf40-4002
4Gnome40-4002
5Goblin / Kobold40-4001.5
6Sprite / Pixie10-1004
7Hobbit30-3001.5
8Giant Spider1-1015
9
Roll Special
10
Roll on Group II Table

GROUP II

D10MONSTER# APPEARINGPOINT COST
1
Roll on Group I Table
2Lycanthrope (Wolf 1-2, Lion 3-4, Bear 5-6)2-2020
3Fighting Man (Level = Dungeon Level)30-30010 * Level
4Wizard (Level = Dungeon Level)30-30010 * Level
5Roc / Tarn1-2020
6Troll / Ogre3-1815
7Ghoul2-2410
8Gargoyle2-2415
9
Roll Special
10
Roll on Group III Table

GROUP III

D10MONSTER# APPEARINGPOINT COST
1
Roll on Group II Table
2Balrog*1-675
3Dragon / Purple Worm1-4100
4Elemental (Air 1-2, Earth 3-4, Water 5, Fire 6)1100
5Ent2-2015
6Giant1-850
7True Troll2-1275
8Wraith (Nazgul)2-1610
9-10
Roll Special

* 2 in 6 chance the Balrog is guarding something (60% magical, 40% wealth).

Hobbit: Use kobold stats.

Giant Spider: Use Ogre stats, with a poison that deals full damage a second time on failed save.

DESIGN NOTES

Castle Blackmoor’s dungeons descend to Level 10 in the printed maps. (Reputedly only one expedition ever discovered the 11th Level, but the dungeons were said by Arneson to go as far down as the lava pits on the 25th level.) Despite this, the Protection Factor table ends at 7th Level because that’s as far as Arneson provided information. Beyond 7th level the value would have either capped or continued to increase. (But you run into additional problems in any case in the lack of Group IV monsters.)

I’ve used the OD&D # appearing entries here out of a sense of purity, although due to the “generate a tribe” mentality of those numbers they largely negate the point for the Group I creatures. You might consider ripping them out and replacing them with more dungeon-appropriate numbers (perhaps sourced from a later edition). The complex method utilizing the # Appearing entry is not strictly Arnesonian in any case. Use to taste..

Next: Special Monsters

RUNNING CASTLE BLACKMOOR
Part 2: Special Monsters
Part 3: Treasure Stocking
Part 4: Magic Swords
Part 5: Castle Background & Features
Part 6: The Dungeon Key
Part 7: Restocking the Dungeon
Part 8: Special Interest Experience
Part 9: Special Interests
Part 10: Blackmoor Village Map
Part 11: Blackmoor Player’s Reference
Part 12: Lessons Learned in Blackmoor

Reactions to OD&D: The Arnesonian Dungeon
Reactions to OD&D: Arneson’s Machines

The Blackmoor Cruxes

 

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

Session 15B: The Ghostly Minstrel Plays

The Ghostly Minstrel - Malhavoc Press

In setting up the In the Shadow of the Spire campaign, I was fairly certain that the PCs would choose to settle down in the Ghostly Minstrel: The campaign hook had them awaking there with missing memories, which I felt would create a certain gravitational pull all by itself. I then spiked the situation a bit more by prepaying their rent. (So that going anywhere else would incur additional expense.)

I was basically right. In more than a hundred sessions there have only been two occasions when I think their position at the Ghostly Minstrel was seriously jeopardized: The first relatively early in the campaign when it seemed as if they might all move into Tee’s house. (A different set of rent-free lodgings!) The second later in the campaign when various would-be assassins kept finding them at the Minstrel and they began to conclude that it was no longer safe for them there. (They found a different solution to that problem.)

Tor also had a long-standing fascination with the idea of buying a house, which is only poorly reflected in the campaign journal (as it usually only came up tangentially during other conversations). He never seemed able to convince anyone else of the virtues of real estate investment, however.

Knowing that the PCs would be staying at the Ghostly Minstrel, I wanted to make sure to bring that building to life for them. To make it feel like a real place. To make it feel like home.

I’ve previously discussed the graphical advantages of using Cook’s elaborately detailed setting. This included not only multiple pictures of the Ghostly Minstrel, but also complete floorplans of the entire building. But what would really breathe life into the Ghostly Minstrel would be its patrons.

I knew that establishing would be a long-term project. Dumping them on the PCs all at once wouldn’t create meaningful relationships; it would just be informational overload. These NPCs needed to become familiar faces.

BUILDING A CAST OF CHARACTERS

Ptolus - The Ghostly Minstrel (Malhavoc Press)

The first step was to actually establish who the characters at the Ghostly Minstrel were. Here, too, Monte Cook had done the initial work for me, astutely including a list of “regulars” at the tavern: Sheva Callister, Daersidian Ringsire, Jevicca Nor, Rastor, Steron Vsool, Urlenius the Star of Navashtrom, Araki Chipestiro, Mand Scheben, and the Runewardens.

Some of these characters resonated with me. Others did not. I culled the list and then supplemented it with other characters that I knew would likely feature later in the campaign. Then I did a little legwork to pull details on these characters together onto a single cheat sheet for easy reference during play.

USING THE CAST

At this point what you have is something that’s not terribly dissimilar from the Party Planning game structure I’ve discussed in the past. The primary difference is that rather than being crammed into a single big event, the interactions in the Ghostly Minstrel’s common room were decompressed over the course of days and weeks. Using the Party Planning terminology:

  • Who’s in the common room each night?
  • What’s the Main Event Sequence for tavern time?
  • What are the Topics of Conversation?

For the first few days of the campaign, I took the time to hand-craft these elements. This allowed me to think about the pacing and sequence for introducing different NPCs. (Would it be more interesting for them to meet Jevicca and have her mention Sheva? Vice versa? Meet them both at the same time?)

Eventually, the campaign moved beyond that phase. At that point, an evening at the Ghostly Minstrel would consist of:

  • Looking at my cheat sheet and randomly selecting a mix of characters to be present.
  • Looking at my campaign status sheet to see what the current news on the street was and assuming that those would likely be the current Topics of Conversation.
  • Occasionally interject a specific, pre-planned development – either in terms of character relationships or scenario hooks.

REINCORPORATION

The final step was to reincorporate the Ghostly Minstrel NPCs into other facets of the campaign (and vice versa). You can see that, for example, with the Harvesttime celebration at Castle Shard, where Sheva and Urlenius both showed up. Conversely, although he also appeared on Cook’s list of regulars at the Ghostly Minstrel, I introduced Mand Scheben first as someone looking to hire the PCs and then had them notice him hanging out in the common room.

FINAL THOUGHTS

Lately I’ve gotten a little lazier when it comes to the cast of characters at the Ghostly Minstrel. Other parts of the campaign have gotten quite complicated, and there are a lot of balls being kept in the air without also juggling in tavern time. The PCs themselves are also less focused on the Minstrel, and their penchant for simply teleporting directly into and out of their rooms also bypasses the traditional “you see so-and-so and so-and-so chatting in the common room” framing that often marked the end of a long adventuring day during these early sessions.

Ghostly Minstrel - Ptolus - Monte CookFortunately, if you put in the early work on this sort of thing, it builds a foundation that you can comfortably coast on for a long a time. For the players, the Ghostly Minstrel is a real place that they have a personal history with, even if it’s been awhile since it’s had a spotlight shone on it. And it only takes a few light reminders – and a few familiar faces – for the Ghostly Minstrel to surge back to life for them.

Recently, however, we’ve had a new player join group and this, for lack of a better term, complacency has become problematic: The simple references which resonate with the other players simply have no resonance for him.

(At the most basic level, think of it like this: When I say, “You walk into the Ghostly Minstrel,” to the long-established players, a vivid and fully-detailed image is conjured up in their mind’s eye. That’s all it takes because we’ve all collectively done the work, right? That doesn’t happen for the new player, though, because it’s not a place that already lives in his imagination. The same thing applies, but even moreso, for the relationships with the NPCs.)

As such, I want to kind of beef up the group’s engagement with the Ghostly Minstrel again for at least a little awhile. It was probably time to do so any way, because a lot of these relationships had just been kind of floating along in a gentle haze for a long time now.

Because I do have so many other aspects of the campaign I’m juggling, however, I’ve decided to approach this through a slightly more formal structure. (The structure allows me to offload at least some of the mental load, right? It frees up more of my brain to focus on other things during actual play.) So what I’ve developed is:

  • A random guest list for determining who’s in the common room on any given night that the PCs stop in. (Roll on it 1d6 times.)
  • Stocking each guest with a short sequence of conversational gambits or interpersonal developments.

My expectation is that I should be able to very quickly reference this page in my campaign status sheet and rapidly generate a 5-10 minute roleplaying interaction any time the PCs choose to engage with the common room.

EXAMPLE OF PLAY

So this is the random table I set up:

1
Sheva Callister
2
Parnell Alster
3
Daersidian Ringsire & Brusselt Airmol
4
Jevicca Nor
5
Rastor
6
Steron Vsool
7
Urlenius
8
Mand Scheben
9
Cardalian
10
Serai Lorenci (Runewarden)
11
Shurrin Delano (Runewarden)
12
Sister Mara (Runewarden)
13
Canabulum (Runewarden)
14
Aliya Al-Mari (Runewarden)
15
Zophas Adhar (Runewarden)
16
Talia Hunter
17
Tarin Ursalatao (Minstrel)
18
Nuella Farreach
19
Iltumar
20
The Ghostly Minstrel

I roll 1d6 and get a result of 4. Using d20 rolls, I note that Aliya Al-Mari, Serai Lorenci, Shurrin Delano, and Urlenius are in the room. (There’s probably also other people, but these are the notable characters, several of whom the PCs have previously been introduced to.)

Next I look at the short list of topics I had prepped for these characters. I actually prepped the adventuring party known as the Runewardens as a group, so this particular slate of results simplifies things somewhat:

RUNEWARDENS

  • Serai Lorenci has joined the Inverted Pyramid. Drinks all around!
  • Canabulum is challenging people to arm wrestling.
  • Aliya Al-Mari storms out of the common room. She’s angry because Serai has told her he’s in contact with Ribok again.

URLENIUS

  • Interested in the rhodintor. (Heard about their presence in the White House from City Watchmen.) He has had visions foretelling that they both were and will become a great threat to Ptolus.
  • He spoke with Dominic recently. Matters weigh heavily with him, but he is trusting to Vehthyl.
  • Tells a rambunctious story about how he, Soren Clanstone, and six soldiers of Kaled Del once transformed a cavern into a fortress and withstood the siege of two dozen dark elves. Then demands a PC tell a story.

Some of these notes may only make sense with the full context of the campaign and/or the Ptolus sourcebook behind them, but hopefully the general thrust here is clear. (Ribok, for example, is a chaositech expert who made introductions between Serai and the Surgeon in the Shadows. Serai almost got himself in quite a bit of trouble when the Surgeon attempted to modify his body, and the other Runewardens barely bailed him out. So Aliya isn’t happy he seems to be dabbling with this dangerous technomancy once again.)

When in doubt, I’m going to default to the first bullet point. And given the preponderance of Runewardens my dice have generated, a celebration of Lorenci’s acceptance by the Inverted Pyramid makes sense. (I also decide that the other Runewardens will show up later in the evening if the PCs engage here.)

Urlenius might be doing his own thing, but he knows members of the Runewardens, so let’s go ahead and just have him drinking with them. The PCs know him better than the members of the Runewardens present, so he can also invite them over. The Runewardens can chat about their news, then Urlenius will ask the PCs about the rhodintor. Might prompt the Runewardens to mention their own run-ins with rhodintor or rhodintor lore. (I’ll check my rhodintor notes for that.)

I’ll mark these items as used on my campaign status sheet, and as part of my prep for the next session I’ll replace the bullet points I’ve used with new points.

Ptolus: Delver's Square - Malhavoc Press

Ptolus - In the Shadow of the Spire

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

SESSION 15B: THE GHOSTLY MINSTREL PLAYS

January 12th, 2008
The 5th Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

THE BEJEWELLED SCARABS

They returned to the door at the base of the stairs. Tee was able to easily pick the lock and then swing it open.

The walls of the thirty-foot long chamber beyond the doors gently curved out and then curved back to a narrow open doorway. Everywhere Tee looked, the walls and floor of the chamber glittered brightly in their torchlight. It took a moment for her to realize that they were completely covered in the gleaming carapaces of large scarab beetles… and that each carapace appeared to be studded with large gemstones.

However, none of them were moving. It appeared that all of the scarabs were dead.

Unfortunately, appearances could be deceiving: As Tee crossed the threshold of the room, a metallic skittering filled the room and the layers of bejeweled scarabs began shifting.

One of them scurried out into the center of the room, stopped, and turned towards to Tee. Before she could react, one of the diamonds studded upon the scarab’s back flared with a blinding brightness.

Tee stumbled back, her eyes overwhelmed by the flash. Several of the others who had also been standing in the doorway were blinded, too.

Agnarr barged his way into the room and Tor followed, but the tight quarters made it difficult for them to find or hit the scarabs. Indeed, not all of the scarabs  in the room were moving – only some of them. But these were now spitting painful acid and emitting blasts of impossibly cold air which withered the skin where they touched.

After several minutes of complete disarray, it seemed as if they were beginning to get the upper hand. Several of the scarabs had been smashed, and the frequency of their attacks – and the blinding flashes of light – were decreasing as their numbers were thinned.

Shardsoul Slayer - Monster Manual VUnfortunately, the sounds of their struggle had attracted the attention of something else: A mechanical creature – lithe and angular with a body of smooth blue-gray metal – rounded the far corner. Vicious tines protruded from the joints along its arms, legs, and curved spine.

They were out of position and taken by surprise. Worse yet, the scarabs had not yet been vanquished – the diamond scarabs continued to emit their blinding flashes of light, leaving them painfully vulnerable to the construct’s slashing tines, crushing blows, and serrated fangs.

Agnarr and Tor tried to move into a defensive front – blocking the powerful construct from their more vulnerable comrades. Unfortunately, this proved disastrous. Every few moments the construct’s single eye – a malevolent green orb – would pulse brightly, and in that instant powerful telepathic waves filled with hate and rage would wash over those nearest to it.

Agnarr almost immediately succumbed to the telepathic assault, and immediately turned on Dominic – who was standing directly behind him. Tor shouted a warning, but before anyone could react, Agnarr’s greatsword had smote Dominic to the floor. The powerful blow dropped the priest to his knees, blood gushing from his chest. (more…)

In Arneson’s Blackmoor, as described in the First Fantasy Campaign from Judges Guild, there are “fighting machines”, “water machines”, “flying machines”, and “teleportation machines”.

First Fantasy Campaign - Dave Arneson (Judges Guild)For those unfamiliar with the First Fantasy Campaign, it is largely comprised of the raw notes Arneson was using to run his campaign. Very little effort is made in the way of explanation, and the notes are also frequently (and frustratingly!) incomplete. Or confusingly combine notes from different, incompatible eras of the campaign. No explanation is given for what any of these “machines” do (although PCs are able to build flying machines and there’s also an “ancient war machine” in a Dark Lord’s throne room which he uses to communicate with his subjects).

Everyone basically assumes that they know what the “teleportation machine” and “flying machine” are. (Although that’s an assumption that you might want to challenge: It is very easy to casually interpret these early documents through the lens of what we know Dungeons & Dragons would become, while forgetting that D&D didn’t actually exist yet when these documents were written.) “Water machine” and “fighting machine”, in any case, have proven more elusive.

Some have postulated that the “water machine” is a boat. That its entry on Arneson’s treasure tables is identical with his description of this magical item:

Skimmer: Can cross stretches of water at great speed, 50 mph and greater, as well as marsh and short (10 yards) stretches of low unobstructed land. Hitting a snag will wreck the Skimmer and cause the occupants one Hit Die in damage per 5 mph of speed. Chance of hitting a snag is about 1% per 100 miles of water, 5% in marsh, and 5% every time any land is crossed. All encounter chances can be ignored due to its speed.

This, however, appears doubtful to my eyes. To explain why, let’s talk a little bit about where these “machines” appear in Arneson’s notes. The Water Machine appears in two different treasure tables, one for Loch Gloomen (where it’s on the “Information” sub-table):

Crystal Ball 9, Teleportation Machine 4, Flying Machine 3, Fighting Machine 10, Water Machine 11, Special Devices 12 + 2, Ancient Books and Manuscripts 8 + 5, Stores of Normal Weapons 7, Clothes 6, etc.

And the other for Bleakwood (where it’s on the Equipment sub-table):

Crystal Ball 1-5, Illusion Projector 6-10, Teleporter 11-12, Flyer 13-17, Skimmer 18-20, Water 21-30, Dimensional Transporter 31-32, Time 33, Transporter 34-39, Borer 40-44, Screener 45-46, Communicator 47-51, Tricorder 52-56, Battery Power 57-66, Medical Unit 67-72, Entertainer 73-82, Generator 83-87, Educator 88-92, Robots 93-98, Controllers 99-00

Note that “Teleportation Machine, Flying Machine, Fighting Machine, Water Machine” has become “Teleporter, Flyer, Skimmer, Water” on the latter list. It’s possible that Water Machine does mean Skimmer, and Arneson simply repeated the same entry twice in a row on the table, but that seems unlikely.

On the other hand, this isn’t the only seeming repetition on the table: Note that “Teleporter” (i.e., Teleportation Machine) and “Transporter”, which one might immediately assume to be the same thing, are listed separately. I, however, suspect that these are not the same thing, that the “Transporter” is based more literally on Star Trek and is a large facility which you can use to beam yourself to other locations (but not take the equipment with you).

And, similarly, I think that the Skimmer and the Water Machine are two different things (albeit perhaps grossly similar in function).

One option for the Water Machine would be a submarine.

Another option I’ve considered is that these “Machine” entries are actually triggers for sub-tables that no longer exist. (This wouldn’t be the only example of missing sub-tables in the First Fantasy Campaign.) Looking at Supplement II: Blackmoor, we find a number of water-related magical items: Ring of Movement (Swimming), Manta Ray Cloak, Necklace of Water Breathing, Helm of Underwater Vision. These could easily be re-characterized as “Water Machines”, perhaps suggesting that the other Machine types are also sub-categories. One could imagine similar sub-tables for other Machine categories.

Something else to note, however, is that you’re more likely to get a result of “Water [Machine]” on the Bleakwood table than literally any other type of treasure except the “Battery Power”. The function of Battery Power is also unexplained, but it seems quite likely to be way of recharging Arneson’s science fantasy “magic” items. Is it possible that the Skimmer is the Water Machine of the Loch Gloomen table and the “Water” entry is some similar resource that could be used in conjunction with the other items? Could it actually be some form of liquid fuel that could be used to power vehicles like the Skimmer?

While potentially cool, there’s no question that it’s a fairly large reach. Supplement II also includes another water-themed item which purifies 10 square feet of seawater. If that’s all that a Water Machine does, it could explain why they were so ubiquitous.

BY WAY OF FIGHTING MACHINES

Let’s leave the Water Machines aside for a moment and talk about the other enigma here, the Fighting Machines. One suspicion is that these are, in fact, robots. (Note that there is no “Fighting Machine” entry on the Bleakwood treasure table, but an entry for “Robots” has been added.)

Here, however, is what the phrase “fighting machine” would have almost certainly conjured up in an SF pulp afficionado’s mind in the early 1970s:

War of the Worlds - illus. Henrique Alvim Corréa

The fighting-machines of H.G. Wells’ War of the Worlds are, of course, vehicles. But they also have a robotic aspect to them.

I’m actually drawn to the idea that all of the Machines are autonomous robots – some of which might also function as vehicles – specializing in the listed functionality. Thus:

  • Fighting-Machines are Wellsian tripods (with some perhaps at a smaller scale, and the larger suitable for giving their controllers a huge advantage in Blackmoor-style war games).
  • Teleportation Machines as robotic entities who, upon request, will teleport you to a location of your desire. (Or use the same function as a devastating offensive capability or means of flight.)
  • Flying Machines as UFO-like objects guided by sentient intelligence. (I’m anachronistically thinking of the ship from Flight of the Navigator; although, again, at various scales.)
  • Water Machines as submersibles? Perhaps.. Or perhaps simply water-proofed robots.

This also suggests the possibility that the “ancient war machine” is, in fact, a robot through which the Dark Lord speaks.

Looking again at seemingly duplicated entries on the treasure tables, I’ll note that teleport-type objects actually show up three times: Once as a Teleportation Machine, once as a Transporter, and once as a Teleportation amulet. If the Teleportation Machine is just a magic device allowing for teleportation, than its utilitarian function is basically identical to that the of the Teleportation amulet. But if the amulet is an item you can carry, the Transporter is a largely immovable facility, and the Machine is an autonomous robot/tripod… Well, you can see how these all become distinct items.

Weighing against this interpretation is the fact that you’d expect some of Arneson’s original players to have recounted running into Martian tripods or teleporting robots. On the other hand, there are truthfully very few accounts of those early adventures, and those accounts have very rarely (if ever) included mention of any robots. Or tricorders. And those are right there in black and white.

With that being said, I’m not claiming to have definitively revealed holy writ here. There’s simply not enough information preserved for us to ever recover definitive answers. But this is one of the cool things about exploring these ur-texts of the hobby: That first generation of GMs may have collectively never figured out how to effectively transmit what they were doing in writing, but in puzzling our way through the fragments they did leave behind, I find there’s an amazing alchemy of closure that takes place, prompting creative insights that would never occur in simply reading a more authoritative text.

Back to Reactions to OD&D

Go to Running Castle Blackmoor

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

Session 15A: The Labyrinth’s Machines

…and then arcs of purplish electricity began to leap between the bulb-tipped rods protruding from the machinery in the center chamber and the rods in the coffin chambers. From there, the arcs converged on the coffins themselves. The electrical bolts danced with a horrible beauty, filling the three chambers with harsh light that seemed barely dimmed by the smoky glass.

Since writing the Three Clue Rule, I’ve spent just over a decade preaching the methods you can use to design robust mystery scenarios for RPGs that can be reliably solved by your players.

Chaositech - Malhavoc PressNow, let me toss all of that out the door and talk about the mysteries that your players don’t solve. And that, in fact, you’re okay with them not solving!

Note that I did not say “that you WANT them not to solve.” And there’s an important distinction there: If there’s a mystery you don’t want the PCs to solve (for whatever reason), then you simply don’t include the clues necessary for them to solve it. That’s not what we’re talking about here: These are mysteries that the PCs can solve. They just don’t.

And that’s OK.

In fact, it can greatly enhance your campaign.

You can see examples of this in the current campaign journal with the strange machinery the PCs investigate and are, ultimately, unable to fathom.

“So what did it do?” Elestra wondered.

“Without occupants for the coffins, most likely nothing,” Ranthir said.

First, why is this OK?

Because the mystery is structurally nonessential. There is something to learn here, but the failure to learn it does not prevent the scenario from continuing.

When we, as game masters, create something cool for our campaigns, there is a natural yearning for the players to learn it or experience it. But that’s a yearning which, in my opinion, we have to learn how to resist. If we force these discoveries, then we systemically drain the sense of accomplishment from our games. Knowledge is a form of reward, and for rewards to be meaningful they must be earned.

Second, why can this be awesome?

The technique I’m suggesting is that your scenarios can be studded with literally dozens of these nonessential mysteries. At that point, it becomes an actuarial game. When including a bunch of these in a dungeon, for example, it becomes statistically quite likely that the PCs won’t solve all of them. (They might, but they probably won’t.) And the ones they don’t are going to create enigma; they’re going to create a sense of insoluble depths. Of a murky and mysterious reality that cannot be fully comprehended.

And that’s going to make your campaign world come alive. It’s going to draw them in and keep them engaged. It will frustrate them, but it will also tantalize them and motivate them.

It should be noted that one of the things that I think makes this work is that these mysteries are, in fact, soluble. I think that, on at least some level, the players recognize that. And the fact that there is, in fact, a solution has a meaningful impact on how you design and develop your campaign world.

(There’s also a place for the truly inexplicable. My 101 Curious Items is an example of that. But it’s a different technique and its effect is distinct.)

In the end, that’s really all there is to it, though: Spice your scenarios with cool, fragile mysteries that will reward the clever and the inquisitive, while forever shutting their secrets away from the bumbling or unobservant. When the PCs solve them, share in their excitement. When the PCs fail to solve them, school yourself to sit back and let the mystery taunt them.

If you’re wondering what one of these little mysteries looks like when the PCs solve it, check out Session 10 when they’re confronted with the gory remnants of an ancient tragedy:

When they approached the corpses they discovered that they were just two among many: Rounding the corner into the larger room they saw more than a dozen humanoid corpses strewn around the room. In the center of these corpses a massive, wolf-like corpse lay – it, too, had been horribly burned until its remains were nothing more than charcoal which had endured the ages.

Investigating the other chamber flanking the door of glass and bronze revealed an even stranger sight: Shards of iron had been driven with seemingly random abandon into the walls of the room. They recognized this iron: It was of the same type used in the cages they had seen before.

“Did something cause one of the cages to explode?” Elestra said.

“Or explode out of it?” Ranthir hypothesized.

“Like that creature in the other room?” Elestra said.

In this case, you can see how the PCs apply information they’ve gained from other encounters within the Labyrinth to shed light on the current forensic analysis. I hadn’t really planned that, per se. I just knew what the story was behind this room and how that story tied in with the rest of the complex. So when the players started asking questions about the metal fragments in the walls, I knew they were related to the cages they’d already encountered.

Note that this specifically works because these aren’t purely random bits of dungeon dressing. These nonessential mysteries aren’t just unrelated puzzles: They’re all part of the scenario, which inherently means that they’re also related to each other. Thus, as the PCs solve some of them and fail to solve others, what they’re left with is an evolving puzzle with some of it pieces missing. Trying to make that puzzle come together and glean some meaning from it despite the missing pieces becomes a challenge and a reward in itself.

This advice doesn’t just apply to dungeon scenarios, either. Any scenario can have these nonessential background mysteries woven around its essential structure: What’s the true story of how the Twelve Vampires came to rule Jerusalem? How did the Spear of Destiny end up in that vault in Argentina? What exactly was Ingen doing on Isla Nublar in Jurassic Park III? Who left these cryptic clues painted on the walls of the Facility?

In general, though, don’t think of this as something “extra” that you’re adding to the scenario. This stuff will usually arise organically out of the scenario as you’re designing it: You need to figure out what happened to the Isla Nublar facility, for example, to build your dinosaur island hexcrawl around its ruins.

This technique, therefore, can also help you avoid one of my pet peeves in scenario design: The incredibly awesome background story that the players have no way of ever learning about. Look at the background you’ve developed for the scenario: If there are big chunks of it which are not expressed in a way which will allow the players to organically learn about it, figure out how the elements of that background can be made manifest in the form of nonessential mysteries.

In the case of the Laboratory of the Beast, I knew that this section of Ghul’s Labyrinth had been used to work on several distinct research projects. Every lab, therefore, could be a separate little mini-mystery revealing exactly what Ghul’s arcanists had been working on down here and, thus, collectively also tell the story of these laboratories.

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