I was flipping through a friend’s copy of Dungeon Delve and took the opportunity to read through the introduction by Bill Slavicsek, the Director of R&D at WotC. He starts by describing the successful Dungeon Delves that WotC has run at various conventions over the past decade:

But from the opening of the show on Thursday, we knew we had found the crux of a winning formula. (…) The fans ate it up. We had enormous lines at the Delve that entire weekend. They lined up to get into the available party slots. They lined up to witness the action and see whether Monte Cook or Bruce Cordell or Ed Stark (or whoever else was part of the team at that time) could kill more characters as more and more of the Delve was revealed. They lined up to see the next dungeon details and character names get posted to the bulletin board. How far had they gotten? What had they killed? Who didn’t make it out of the last fight?

They had a winning format: A megadungeon serving as the shared campaign setting for a huge pool of players. They basically took core Old School play and condensed it down to a format that could be played rapid-fire over the couse of a convention weekend.

Nifty stuff.

With this book, the Dungeon Delve concept finally takes center stage as a core D&D product. It was a long time coming, but we needed that time to test concepts, try out new formats, and eventually get to the point where this product was not only viable, but in many ways necessary to the evolution of the D&D game.

This makes perfect sense. If you’re in the business of selling RPGs and you’ve got something that’s a proven success with RPG players, you should try to figure out how to bottle that success and sell it to the masses.

For the purpose of this product, a Dungeon Delve is a compact series of encounters appropriate for a specific level of play. This book contains 30 Dungeon Delves, one for each level of play. Each Delve features three encounters, forming a mini-adventure of sorts.

Wait… what?

So you had a format: Megadungeon. High mortality rate attracting lots of attention. Boatloads of players/characters sharing a single setting to create a sense of competition, rivalry, and shared accomplishment.

And your method of bringing this format to “center stage as a core D&D product” is to give us mini-dungeons featuring three encounters incapable of serving as a shared campaign setting in a system explicitly designed for low mortality rates?

WTF?

(And is it even possible for them to devalue the term “core” any more? Describing their splat books as “core” was bad enough, but now they’re actually claiming that their adventure modules are “core” products? Exactly what do you produce that isn’t a “core” product, WotC?)

Let me be clear here: There’s nothing wrong with either style of adventure. I think there’s room in any good campaign for both megadungeons and mini-adventures. I contributed mini-adventures to Atlas Games’ En Route II. My Mini-Adventure 1: Complex of Zombies is pretty much in the same ballpark. I haven’t actually taken a close look at the actual adventures in Dungeon Delve, but conceptually it’s an interesting and potentially useful product.

But what baffles me is a company saying, “Our goal is to do X. And in order to do X, we’re going to do not-X.”

I mean, there are many parts of the design of 4th Edition which followed that pattern: The designers say that they want to do X and then they release mechanics which either don’t do X or do the exact opposite of X.

I had simply assumed that was incompetence. But maybe that’s just the way that Slavicsek and his design team think. (Which would also explain why we got not-D&D when they tried to design D&D.)

This material is covered by the Open Gaming License.

A character can choose to push the limits of their normal abilities in exchange for the character suffering some fatigue from the effort. Immediately after using extra effort, a character becomes fatigued (-2 Strength, -2 Dexterity, cannot run), even if they are normally immune to fatigue. If a character uses extra effort while fatigued they become exhausted (-6 Strength, -6 Dexterity, one-half speed). If a character uses extra effort while exhausted they become unconscious.

A character using extra effort can gain one of the following benefits for a single round:

Activate Class Ability: Gain an additional use of a class ability that has a limited number of uses per day.

Desperate Parry: As an immediate action, gain the the benefits of fighting defensively (or using the Combat Expertise feat) against one attack. If the character was already fighting defensively (or using the Combat Expertise feat), double the bonus gained.

Desperate Speed: Move at double speed for one round or take an additional 5 foot step.

Emulate Feat: Benefit from a feat they don’t have for 1 round. The character must meet the prerequisites of the feat.

Emulate Metamagic: The character can use a metamagic feat they don’t have or don’t have prepared. This increases the casting time of the spell to at least a full round unless using the Quicken Spell feat. A caster with prepared spells must use up a prepared spell of the appropriate level, but can keep the original spell being modified. A spontaneous caster can use extra effort to use a metamagic feat they do know without increasing the casting time of the spell.

Extra Attack: When performing the full attack action, make 1 extra attack at their highest base attack bonus.

Focused Skill Check: Take 10 on a skill check even when they normally couldn’t.

Opportunist: Take an extra attack of opportunity.

Prodigious Strength: Double their carrying capacity for one round or gain a +2 bonus to a single Strength check (or Strength-based skill).

Spell Boost: A caster can use extra effort to gain a +2 bonus to their effective caster level for a single spell. (Must declare before casting the spell.)

Turn the Blow: Automatically negate an opponent’s critical hit (turning it into a normal hit).

Vicious Blow: Automatically confirm a critical without making an additional attack roll. (Must be declared before checking the crit.)

EXHAUSTING EFFORT

A character performing an exhausting effort suffers from exhaustion. If a character is fatigued when performing an exhausting effort, they become unsconsious. Exhausted characters cannot attempt an exhausting effort.

Intense Skill Check: The character can Take 20 on a physical skill check without expending any additional time on the check and even in circumstances where they normally couldn’t.

Recall Spell: Spellcasters who prepare their spells can use exhausting effort to recall any spell previously cast on the same day. The spell can be cast again with no effect on other prepared spells. Spontaneous spellcasters can use extra effort to cast a spell without using one of their daily spell slots.

Second Effort: The character can reroll any one die roll and use whichever result is better.

DESIGN NOTES

The Extra Effort mechanics serve a function similar to Action Points. One key difference is that while Action Points are a dissociated mechanic, the Extra Effort mechanics are associated: They specifically model that moment when a character digs deep and finds the inner reserves necessary to do what must be done.

The specific list of benefits that a character can gain from Extra Effort should be considered a sampler. Players should be encouraged to propose their own, situation-specific benefits from Extra Effort.

In judging whether or not a particular benefit is appropriate, I propose a simple spot-check: If it’s appropriate for a 2nd-level spell, then it’s appropriate for extra effort. If it’s appropriate for a 4th-level spell, then it’s appropriate for an exhausting effort.

The rationale for this is simple: Fatigue can be removed with lesser restoration (a 2nd-level spell) and exhaustion can be removed with restoration (a 4th-level spell). Therefore, in a worst case scenario, the system can’t be abused any farther than a character using extra effort and then immediately wiping it out with a 2nd-level spell or using exhausting effort and then immediately wiping it out with a 4th-level spell.

In playtesting, for example, exhaustive efforts were created when the Recall Spell ability proved too powerful: Characters were getting the benefit of a mnemonic enhancer spell for the use of a lesser restoration spell. Mnemonic enhancer, however, is a 4th-level spell — so if characters want to use a 4th-level restoration spell to more-or-less mimic the effect of another 4th-level spell, I’ve got no problem with that.

Dave Arneson passed at 11 pm last night.

I can’t really think of anything to say that I didn’t say two days ago. Instead, let me simply call for a moment of digital silence in the memory of a great man.

A false rumor spread around the Internet this morning that Dave Arneson, original creator of the dungeon crawl and co-creator of Dungeons & Dragons, had died.

Unfortunately, Dave Arneson is seriously ill. He was taken to the hospital on April 5th due to a sudden worsening of his cancer. As of this writing, the latest news is that he has been transferred to a facility where his comfort can be best attended to.

An address has been established to which messages can be sent:

Dave Arneson
1043 Grand Avenue
Box #257
St. Paul, MN
55105

I hope you will all join me in sending hopes and prayers in his direction. Not only is Mr. Arneson a shining beacon of creativity who has improved the lives of millions through his work, but — by every account that I have ever heard — he is a truly decent, generous, and wonderful human being. His passing, whenever it may come (and I hope it is a long time yet in coming), will be a tragedy and a loss beyond measure.

Go to Part 1

For our third OD&D session in the Caverns of Thracia, we had four new players. Two of these players were completely new to RPGs; one had spent most of her time playing in the original World of Darkness; and the last had once played in a D&D campaign where the other players didn’t bother explaining the rules to her and she had basically watched while somebody else played her character for her.

This last player was particularly leery about giving D&D another try. In fact, I’m not sure if she would have shown up at all if it hadn’t been for the fact that OD&D was only one of the options for what we might play that night (the other was Arkham Horror). When the group decided on OD&D by a single vote, however, she joined the rest of us in rolling up a character.

I’m going to spoil the ending here: All five of the new players had a great time and all of them were eager to play again, including the player who had suffered such a sub-par experience the last time that she’d tried to play.

The new characters were: Greenwick the Halfling, Brennan the Fighting-Man, Howard the Magic-User, and Bob the Fighting-Man.

The spiel for introducing the rules and walking everyone through character creation took a little longer than in previous sssions because of the complete neophytes at the table, but we all had a good time of it. Howard’s player, in particular, glommed onto the OD&D rule that all weapons deal 1d6 points of damage and decided that, instead of buying a weapon, he could just convert a gold piece into copper and then throw the copper coins at people.

WHEN LAST WE LEFT OUR HEROES…

We also had two returning characters: Reeva (who had missed the second session) and the halfling Thalmain, who had now catapulted himself all the way to 3rd level (despite suffering an XP penalty from his low prime requisite).

At the end of the previous session, Thalmain had gotten himself cursed while opening a chest. Making a ruling based on the costs for creating a magical scroll, I decided that getting the local priest to cast remove curse would cost him 200 gp.

Fortunately, Thalmain’s share of the loot from the previous session had tallied at 240 gp.

This also gave us a nice hook for the new session: While the other PCs from the previous session were carousing with their loot, Thalmain found his own personal purse considerably lighter. Thus he had a motivation for rounding up a likely group of rag-tag treasure hunters (i.e., the other PCs) and returning to the ruins ASAP.

It was around this point, as the group was gearing itself up for the expedition, that Thalmain’s player asked for the map they’d made in the previous session.

I grinned my evil DM grin and said, “Herbert was the one mapping.”

And, of course, Herbert wasn’t there.

After a bit of haggling, I decided that Herbert would be willing to sell the map to Thalmain. Thalmain had 40 gp left, so I grabbed 2d20 and rolled… two natural 20’s.

Thalmain decided that he didn’t particularly want to go completely broke, so he decided to instead steal the map. This proved easy enough, since Herbert was cavorting at the local tavern with his wealth.

THE GRAND TOUR

As Thalmain led them into the Caverns of Thracia, he was able to act as a bit of a tour guide for the new players/characters. (“Here’s where the bridge almost burned down… Don’t open that door… Here’s the pit trap I heroically saved the party from… Here’s the place where I roasted lizardmen…”)

Eventually, however, they began pressing on into unexplored territory. A short while later, they found themselves descending broad stairs of stone…

And that’s when things got epic.

In the Caverns of Thracia, there is a room keyed thusly:

The Burial Crypt of the Cult of the Dark One: The reek of decaying flesh permeates the air here. Lying in ordered rows are rank upon rank of corpses. Most are long decayed and in skeletal form, but many are still fairly fresh, not having been dead for more than a few weeks (if you can call that fresh!). […] If the southernmost pair of columns is approached within 5′ or if the columns are passed between or to either side, 1-4 skeletons will animate and begin to attack intruders. Each additional melee round 1-4 more skeletons will animate as long as there are living intruders to fight, up to a total of 400 skeletons. Skeletons, AC: 7, Move: 12″, HD: 1, Damage 1-6, HP 3.

I decided that the Thanatos cultists that they had killed before would have been moved down here, so there were also about a dozen bodies laid out directly before the leading into this large chamber and covered with fresh linen. (This creeped them out because, of course, it implied that there had been somebody around to move the bodies.)

Inevitably, of course, the PCs moved far enough into the room to trigger the undead guardians. As the corpses began to stir and wrench themselves free from the cordwood-like stacks of the dead, the party fell back to the entrance.

The two halfings — skilled in ranged weaponry — picked off the first wave. (Aided by the occasional coin-toss from Howard.) But more and more of the dead were beginning to stir, and they realized it would only take a few unlucky die rolls for the skeletons to reach their defensive position.

(Actually, I don’t think I’ve discussed this previously: Halflings are described in OD&D as having “deadly accuracy with missiles as detailed in CHAINMAIL”. These sessions are being run with the conceit that I don’t “have” Chainmail, so we decided that halflings would simply get a +1 bonus to damage while using ranged weapons.)

Against the eminent risk, they quickly rearranged their lines. Brennan and Reeva took the front line. Greenwick switched from ranged attacks to a polearm in the second rank. And then Howard, Thalmain, and Bob lined up in back using their ranged attacks to thin the undead ranks before they reached the melee fighters.

But, more importantly, they also started spreading oil in front of their defensive position. And as soon as some of the undead got close enough, they lit the oil.

Based on my interpretation of the room key, the undead would just keep coming. Each undead had 1d6 hit points. Those that survived the ranged attacks would enter the oil, suffer 1d6 hit points, and frequently die before they even threatened the melee fighters.

After a couple of rounds, it was clear that the 1d4 skeletons per round were just never going to pose any kind of credible threat: The defensive position they’d created was too strong. And while the oil would only last for 1d6 rounds, they had stocked up on it (in large part due to Thalmain’s success with a similar tactic during the last session).

THE MASSACRE

I was in the process of trying to figure out how to make the encounter more interesting (since wittling through 400 undead 1d4 at a time wasn’t particularly exciting) when the PCs made it easy for me:  They decided to try proactively eliminating the undead before they could rise. They tossed a flask of oil onto one of the piles of corpses and then fired a flaming arrow into it.

I ruled that the resulting conflagration was successful in destroying a large number of potential undead… but it also had the effect of rousing them. I rolled 1d10, got a result of 8, and went from rolling 1d4 to rolling 8d4 for the number of undead animating each round.

As the undead rose en masse, the piles collapsed — sending the dead cascading across the floor of the chamber.

It’s a testament to the strenght of their defensive position that they managed to hold out for several more rounds against the larger waves of undead without sustaining any injury. I was literally rolling fistfuls of d6’s to calculate the skeleton’s hit points while the players rolled a fistful of d6’s to calculate the damage wrought from the wide moat of fire they had laid down. They would read off the results and I would toss d6’s aside or lower their totals to reflect the current hit points of the skeletons.

Unfortunately, many of them were just 1st level characters. Eventually the law of averages worked against them and one of the skeletons emerged from the flaming oil and with a howl of undead rage managed to rip out Brennan’s throat.

Around this same time, my d4’s rolled high and a wave of 22 skeletons started heading towards them. At that point, they decided that discretion might be the better part of valor. But they weren’t done yet: Howard moved up to the melee line and they held the position for another couple of rounds.

As the wave of the 22 skeletons got close, however, they fell back.

But they weren’t done yet. See, Brennan had been the one carrying most of their (very large) supply of oil. So before they retreated, they rolled Brennan’s body into the flames.

1… 2… 3….

KA-BOOM!

Surprisingly, a couple of the skeletons managed to actually emerge from the far side of the inferno and pursue them a couple of steps up the stairs. (I say a couple of steps, because Thalmain and Bob put arrows through their skulls before they got any further.)

When it was all said and done, I tallied up the dead:

They had killed 76 skeletons.

Killed? It’s probably more accurate to say “slaughtered” or “massacred” on a scale that a bunch of 1st level characters (with the exception of the 3rd level Thalmain) should really not be capable of dealing out.

Of course, they weren’t 1st level any longer. Everybody not only leveled up, but also maxed out their XP for the next level, bumping into the “thou shalt not get enough XP for two levels” ceiling. (Well, except for Thalmain, who bumped into the “thou shalt not advance past 4th level” ceiling for halflings.)

76 skeletons.

It isn’t the largest single-battle slaughter I’ve ever seen in a D&D game, but it’s almost certainly the most impressive. The only battles that rival it in terms of sheer number involve groups fighting large hordes of significantly weaker opponents.

Smart play. Very smart play.

Admittedly, if the skeletons had been smarter they wouldn’t have continued marching into the flames. But, on the other hand, I’m not sure how much difference it would have made: The skeletons had no access to ranged weapons and any possibility of a retreat was cut off by the chasm to the north. Even if they had hung back, they would have simply been picked off by the party’s ranged attacks.

To be continued…