Yesterday I tackled half of the “scry and die” combo by offering my house rules for teleport spells. Today I’m going to be dealing with the other half of the equation with advanced rules for scrying. As with my house rules for teleport, these advanced rules are deliberately designed to tweak the rules for scrying without negating the unique utility and flavor of the spell.

ADVANCED RULES: SCRYING

When using the scrying spell, a crystal ball, or similar effect, the following rules apply:

Scrying Location: You can choose to scry on a particular location instead of a creature. Doing so requires a Spellcraft check (DC 20), using the same modifiers for the DC that apply to the Will save (see scrying spell). If the check is successful, you can observe an area within a radius of 10 feet per caster level. While scrying on a location your scrying sensor cannot be moved.

Spotting the Sensor: With detect magic or similar effects active, a scrying sensor can be spotted with a successful Spot check (DC 25) or Spellcraft check (DC 20).

Counterspelling the Sensor: Spellcasters who are aware of a scrying sensor can attempt to counterspell the scrying (even though they are unable to see the caster).

Learn Scryer: If you determine that you’re being scried upon, you can learn the identity of the scryer with a Spellcraft check (DC 30). If successful, you learn the name, race, and location of the scryer. The scryer may make an opposed Spellcraft check or cancel the scrying as a reaction to prevent you from learning the information.

Break Scrying: If you determine that you’re being scried, you can make a Spellcraft check (DC 30) to attempt to break the scrying. On a successful check, the scrying ends and the scryer may not target you with a Divination (Scrying) spell or similar effect for at least 24 hours. The scryer may make an opposed Spellcraft check as a reaction to prevent you from breaking the scrying in this way.

Return Scrying: If you determine that you’re being scried upon, you can look back through the sensor at the scryer with a successful Spellcraft check (DC 40). This allows you to spy on the scryer as if you had cast a scrying spell upon that person. The scryer may make an opposed Spellcraft check or cancel the scrying as a reaction to prevent you from looking back through the sensor.

Alternatively, you can cast scrying or use a similar effect to target the character currently scrying on you. The character scrying on you can cancel the scrying as a reaction to your spell, but if they do not they suffer a -20 penalty on their Will save to resist the attempt.

Hiding from Scrying: In addition to spells tailored to defeat scrying, there are a few other tricks that can help you keep others from knowing what you’re doing:

DESIGN NOTES

The key rule here, as with the teleport house rules, lies in the ability to spot the scrying sensor: This gives the person being scried upon a chance to detect the attempt. Once that’s true, they can begin working to either prepare for potential danger or to disrupt the scrying (depending on the resources they have available).

The rest of the rules simply serve to make scrying a little more interesting and dynamic: The counter-scrying actions give scrying a potentially dangerous edge, while the ability to scry on a location (instead of a character) gives scrying a little more versatility.

Yesterday I talked about the ability to control the pace of encounters in D&D, and how that control can tip the balance of power between the fighters and the wizards. A lot of people believe that you need to completely rip apart the system in order to correct this imbalance, but in my experience — once you understand the true source of the problem — you can actually get a lot of mileage out of a handful of meaningful tweaks.

For example, one of the most powerful pace-control combinations at higher levels of play is the scrying-and-teleport combo (also known as a “scry and die”): You use scrying to find your target, teleport to reach them, blast the crap out of them before they have a chance to prepare or defend themselves, and then teleport away again.

I’ve seen DMs simply remove teleport and scrying from the game entirely, but I’ve found that a gentler approach works just as well (without removing some nifty abilities entirely from the game).

TELEPORT HOUSE RULES

These rules apply to any spells of the Conjuration (Teleportation) type and similar effects.

• You can only teleport a number of miles equal to your caster level. (When teleporting through the use of a racial ability, the distance is limited to a number of miles equal to your total HD.)
• Teleporting characters or objects disappear instantly, but teleportation takes a number of rounds equal to the number of miles traveled (minimum of 1 round). During this time, characters at the destination of the teleport can make a Spot check (DC 20). If the check succeeds, they are aware of the incoming teleport. If the distance of the teleport is a mile or less, characters at the receiving end of the teleport will only have a surprise round in which to take actions before the teleport is completed.
• Teleport Trace: Outgoing teleport spells leave a teleport trace during the duration of the teleport. Characters at the source of a teleport can make a Spot check (DC 20) to spot the teleport trace. Teleport spells and similar effects can be used to automatically follow the original teleport, although the caster will not know where the teleport spell goes until they arrive. Scrying sensors can be sent through a teleport trace.
• Dispelling Teleports: Spellcasters who are aware of the incoming teleport can attempt to counterspell the teleport (even though they are unable to see the caster).
• Blocked Teleports: If a teleport is counterspelled, blocked, or otherwise disrupted the character or object being teleported returns to its original location.
• Gate: The gate spell can be used to circumvent the distance limitation on teleportation. The casting time for the spell is equal to 1 round per mile traveled or 1d10 minutes for interplanar travel. During the casting time, the gate is clearly visible from both ends and events at the other end of the gate can be seen murkily through it (Spot checks suffer a -10 penalty). Once the gate is established, travel through the gate is instantaneous.

DESIGN NOTES

The distance limitation was actually added to my house rules for flavor reasons and can be ignored if you’re just interested in tweaking the rules for balance purposes. (The original group of PCs in my current campaign world wanted a campaign featuring a Lord of the Rings-style cross-country epic. Long-range teleportation would have undermined that goal: Lord of the Rings is a very different story when Gandalf just teleports the Fellowship from Rivendell to Mt. Doom. Long-range teleportation is also one of those abilities which, if you considered its practical impact on the world, would completely transform society.)

The meaningful tweaks here is adding a duration to the teleport itself and allowing characters at the destination or source of the teleport to spot the teleport and interact with it in meaningful ways. The ability to use a teleport spell to facilitate hit-and-run tactics isn’t removed from the game, but it is given its own unique effects and consequences. The target of the technique, for example, can simply choose to run away. Or prep their defenses. Or call for help. The PCs could actually end jumping into the middle of a massive ambush of their own making.

Similarly, PCs can’t count on teleport necessarily being an automatic escape plan after the hit-and-run has been completed: Enemy spellcasters can follow them through their teleports.

It’s a small adjustment, but it means that “scry and die” is no longer clearly superior option to a traditional assault: It has its own strengths and weaknesses, which will sometimes make it better than a traditional assault and sometimes worse.

Wherein we discuss the fallacy of the 15-minute adventuring day, and explicate the reasons why this supposedly systemic flaw is, in fact, an error in the technique of the Dungeon Master. (Mostly.)

In classic D&D there were four primary roles in combat: The fighter was the guy who could reliably contribute every single round by dishing out damage. The arcanist was the guy who could deal “spike damage” and turn the tide against tough opponents. The cleric was the guy buffing and healing, assisting the others in various ways. The rogue also got in on the action, but was generally an opportunist.

The guys providing “spike damage” also generally got to be more productive in the non-combat sections of the game — either because of the arcanist’s utilitarian spells or because of the rogue’s skills and searching ability.

This balance of spotlight time always worked for me. People gravitated towards the type of game they wanted to play by selecting the class that best-suited their preferences. And because there were a variety of game styles supported, different people could enjoy playing the game for different reasons. (Or, when they got bored of playing the game in one way, could switch to playing it in a different way.) The one problem was the generally unappealing nature of the cleric — but 3rd Edition’s spontaneous casting largely fixed this problem.

However, with that being said, this balance did begin to break down at higher levels of play. As you got close to 20th level, the spellcasters — particularly the arcanists — became so powerful that they completely dominated the other classes. This was an acknowledged problem and one of the biggest flaws in the design of the Epic Level Handbook was that it not only failed to address these problems but actually made them worse.

Over the past couple of years, however, this meme suddenly turned virulent: Wizards were referred to as the “win button”. People were reporting that this domination — which previously hadn’t become a problem until the highest levels of play — were cropping up in the mid-level of play around 8th level. I’ve even seen people insisting that, by 5th level, the game is over and the wizards have won.

But this wasn’t what I was seeing at my gaming table. It wasn’t until you got to around 12th level that I was beginning to see the wizards outpacing the fighters, and it wasn’t until after 15th level that I was seeing the wizards beginning to completely dominate the table. Were the guys playing fighters in my game just preternaturally talented? Were the guys playing wizards particularly incompetent?

It took me awhile to figure it out, but I eventually summed it up with a catch-phrase:

The death of the wandering monster tables.

In other words, the DMs experiencing problems were allowing their players to control the pace of encounters. As a result, the casters were able to go into a single encounter, blow through all of their “spike damage” spells for the day, and then say, “Well, I’m out of spells, let’s rest up.”

And, of course, once you had redefined “spike damage” to mean “normal damage”, the fighters were completely outclassed. And, indeed, by 5th level the wizard could completely dominate the game.

But the game doesn’t have to be like this. It used to be that the threat of wandering monsters would keep the PCs in check: They wouldn’t blow through all of their abilities because there was always the chance that something unexpected might happen. In my games I don’t use a lot of wandering monster tables, but I do run the NPC opponents proactively: The PCs can’t rely on being able to control the pace of encounters. They don’t get ambushed every single night, but the possibility is there — so they have to keep a little bit in reserve. They’ve also learned that, if they try to face one encounter and retreat for the day, then the next day they’ll find that their opponents have reinforced and entrenched their positions and it’s going to be that much harder for them.

So, really, we can see how two oft-cited complaints about 3rd Edition — the “15 minute adventuring day” and the “all-powerful wizard” — both stem from the same source: Poor DMing.

Given that, why do the casters really start to own the game above 15th level? Well, for a few reasons:

(1) The lack of powerful options for high-level fighters.

(2) The sheer power of the spells available at those levels (the spike damage gets a lot spikier).

(3) But, most importantly in my experience, the power provided by those spells (and the other resources available at those levels) to make it possible for the PCs to control the pace of encounters: At those levels it’s not that the DM is simply letting them control the pace, it’s that the PCs can proactively take that control in very reliable and predictable ways.

Once that third step happens, you’re back to a situation where spellcasters can blow massive amounts of spell power in a relatively narrow window of time and the spotlight balance between fighters and wizards becomes completely skewed.

Go to Part 1

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.

THE CHERUB STATUES

When I remixed the first part of the Chamber of Statues, I didn’t think I’d be discussing the second part of that encounter. Why? Because there was nothing seriously wrong with that section of the encounter.

… or so I thought.

I’ve been cross-posting these mini-essays on Keep of the Shadowfell to WotC’s forums, and the discussion there revealed there was actually a rather serious problem with that section of the encounter.

In this section of the encounter, there are four cherub statues. When triggered, the cherubs create an arcane cage to trap a victim. The cherubs then pour water into the arcane cage, which triggers a whirlpool effect that smashes the victim into the cherub statues and cause them to take damage.

The key element to this encounter is the arcane cage that the statues create:

ARCANE CAGE (immediate interrupt, when a creature walks past the northern two statues; encounter)
The statues create a wall of arcane magic to enclose the area between the four statues. The wall lasts as long as at least three statues remain intact. The wall cannot be damaged and is affected only through the destruction or disabling of the cherub statues.

The key problem here is the phrase “create a wall of arcane magic to enclose the area between the four statues”. When I first read that phrase, I interpreted it as meaning that the arcane cage enclosed the entire 4×6 hallway, including the cherub statues. But then I realized that the other half of the encounter talks about the dragon statues reacting to characters outside the arcane cage attacking the cherub statues, so I concluded that the arcane cage must only enclose the 2×4 area between the cherubs.

I thought the phrasing was a little unclear, but no big deal.

Except it turned out I wasn’t the only one who had interpreted that phrase differently. In no time at all, in fact, the conversation included four mutually incompatible interpretations of what the arcane cage did and they were all legitimate interpretations of the phrase “create a wall of arcane magic to enclose the area between the four statues”:

To this muddle we can also add some confusion from the phrase “when a creature walks past the northern two statues”. There seem to be two meaningful possibilities for this:

(Of course, if you go with the second possibility for the arcane cage, the answer to this question is pretty obvious — it’ll be the one that actually traps the triggering character inside the cage.)

PROBLEMS, PROBLEMS, PROBLEMS

In trying to work out how this encounter is supposed to work, we can try to narrow the possibilities down by taking two facts into consideration:

(1) Barrier effects “run along the edge of a specified number of squares”. Since each statue is entirely within one square, the statues either have to be inside the barrier or they have to be outside the barrier — they can’t be both.

(2) The dragon statues are supposed to be able to use their force shot ability against characters outside the barrier making attacks against the statues. Therefore, the statues have to be outside the barrier. (And even if this wasn’t true, you wouldn’t want a scenario where the only character who can lower the cage is the character trapped inside the cage: If they get killed by the whirlpool effect, not only are the irretrievable, but the location of the cage effectively prevents the rest of the group from reaching the end of the adventure.)

Thus we can conclude that it must be one of these two scenarios:

… except these doesn’t actually work.

First, because the cherubs have to be inside the cage (they’re pouring water into the cage and the trapped character is slammed against them for damage).

Second, because under this interpretation the guy inside the cage is effectively taken out of the game: There’s nothing they can do to escape. All they can do is hang tight, soak up the damage each round, and hope somebody gets them out. (This second problem isn’t necessarily unworkable, it’s just a questionable design choice.)

In short, the encounter doesn’t work. The cherubs have to both inside and outside the cage and, according to the rules of the game, that can’t happen.

As I see it, there are two options:

(1) Use the 2×4 option and then break the rules, basically creating an ad hoc ruling that the character inside the force cage can attack and destroy the cherubs even though they shouldn’t be able to.

(2) Redesign the encounter so that each cherub statue takes up 2 squares (and, thus, you can have them half-in and half-out of the arcane cage without breaking the rules).

FUEL ON THE FIRE

After writing up this whole analysis, I was looking through my friend’s copy of the Player’s Handbook and discovered something that only serves to deepen the confusion over what the arcane cage is supposed to be doing.

In the Quick Start Rules that came with Keep on the Shadowfell, there were three areas of effect defined: Barriers, Blasts, and Bursts. In the PHB, on the other hand, barriers no longer exist. They’ve been replaced by walls.

Here are the rules from Keep on the Shadowfell:

Barrier: A barrier runs along the edge of a specified number of squares. A barrier must cross at least one edge of the origin square.

And here are the rules from the PHB:

Wall: A wall fills a specified number of contiguous squares within range, starting from an origin square. Each square of the wall must share a side—not just a corner—with at least one other square of the wall, but a square can share no more than two sides with other squares in the wall (this limitation does not apply when stacking squares on top of each other). You can shape the wall however you like within those limitations. A solid wall, such as a wall of ice, cannot be created in occupied squares.

I have two reactions to this:

(1) Why wasn’t this fixed in the Quick Start Rules? Yet another example of sloppy editing.

(2) The encounter still doesn’t work.

It can’t be option #1 because the arcane cage is a solid wall (otherwise you could walk through it and the trap would be pointless), and therefore it can’t be formed in the squares occupied by the cherub statues.

It can’t be option #2 because walls must fill contiguous squares and each square must share a side — not just a corner — with at least one other square of the wall.

It can’t be option #3, obviously, because then there’s no interior of the cage for someone to be trapped in.

It can’t be option #4 because the trigger for the arcane cage would either result in no one being trapped inside or would make it impossible for the wall to form (since the triggering character would be occupying one of the squares the wall has to fill).

There are two possible ways of handling this:

(1) You can use option #4, change the trigger for the trap (so that it goes off when a character enters one of the squares inside the arcane cage), and then ignore the rules so that the cherubs are somehow inside the cage (despite the fact that they’re nowhere near the inside of the cage).

(2) You can use option #2 and rewrite the effect so that it creates multiple walls. Unfortunately, it’s not clear whether or not a character inside the arcane cage can attack the cherubs. (There’s a clear rule that says you can’t move across a diagonal if one of the squares bordering the diagonal has a solid barrier in it, but I can’t find any rule that tells you whether or not you can attack through a diagonal where two solid barriers meet.)

THIS IS RIDICULOUS

Needless to say, I consider this to be ridiculous. I consider the complete inability for this encounter to work as written just further evidence that Keep on the Shadowfell was never playtested. Such a shoddily designed encounter would, frankly, be inexcusable in any professional product. But it completely baffles me that WotC evidently spent so little effort and care on the product they chose to serve as the flagship for 4th Edition.

Earlier this month, I included some analysis of skill challenges in my essay on the dissociated mechanics of 4th Edition. Because the core rulebooks had not yet been released, I included a disclaimer in that essay saying, basically: “Hey, I might be wrong about this. There might be more details in the core rulebooks that will clear some of this stuff up.”

Well, I’ve now had a chance to glance through the core rulebooks. I haven’t even come close to reading through (let alone thinking about or analyzing) the 4th Edition ruleset, but one of things I did make a point of looking at were the skill challenge mechanics.

And having done so, I can now safely say this: I was wrong. The skill challenge mechanics are not as bad I said they were.

They are much, much worse.

SERIOUSLY, WTF?

So, here’s a quote from the 4th Edition Dungeon Master’s Guide:

Roll initiative to establish an order of play for the skill challenge. If the skill challenge is part of a combat encounter, work the challenge into the order just as you do the monsters. In a skill challenge encounter, every player character must make skill checks to contribute to the success or failure of the encounter. Characters must make a check on their turn using one of the identified primary skills (usually with a moderate DC) or they must use a different skill, if they can come up with a way to use it to contribute to the challenge (with a hard DC). A secondary skill can be used only once by a single character in any given skill challenge.

That’s just one paragraph out of the 8 pages in the DMG dealing with skill challenges, but it boggles the mind to consider how many things are wrong with it.

ROLL FOR INITIATIVE: It’s not just the rolling for initiative that’s problematical, it’s the fact that the characters “must make a check on their turn”. In other words, if you’re engaged in tense negotiations with the Duke the barbarian can’t simply decide to stand back and let the diplomat work — the rules mandate that they get involved. If the rogue is working to defuse a bomb, Joe the Bumbler can’t just wait in the next room — the rules mandate that Joe has to start yanking on the wires.

WotC claimed that they wanted to design a set of rules that made it possible for everyone to stay involved with the game during every single encounter. Apparently, however, the only way they could think of for doing that was to mandate that everyone stay involved… whether they want to or not.

BE CREATIVE… AND PAY THE PRICE: If a player comes up with a unique, clever, or unanticipated way of dealing with the skill challenge, make sure to hit them with a hard DC to encourage them to stop being unique and clever.

A little later, in a section entitled “Reward Clever Ideas”, the DMG actually says this: “In skill challenges, players will come up with uses for skills that you didn’t expect to play a role. Try not to say no. Instead, let them make a roll using the skill but at a hard DC… This encourages players to think about the challenge in more depth…”

Of course, it does no such thing. If the only “reward” for “thinking about the challenge in more depth” is that the challenge will be harder, why would you ever think about the challenge in more depth?

BE CREATIVE… BUT NOT TOO CREATIVE: And just in case we haven’t already dissuaded you from trying to think creatively, let’s hammer that final nail into the coffin by making sure that you can only use a secondary skill (i.e., a skill not defined in the skill challenge) once in any given skill challenge.

And it’s worse than that:

When the PCs are delving through the Underdark in search of the ruined dwarven fortress of Gozar-Duun, they don’t necessarily know how the game adjudicates that search. They don’t know what earns successes, to put it in game terms, until you tell them. You can’t start a skill challenge until the PCs know their role in it, and that means giving them a couple of skills to start with. It might be as simple as saying, “You’ll use Athletics checks to scale the cliffs, but be aware that a failed check might dislodge some rocks on those climbing below you.” If the PCs are trying to sneak into the wizard’s college, tell the players, “Your magical disguises, the Bluff skill, and knowledge of the academic aspects of magic—Arcana, in other words—will be key in this challenge.”

“Be creative”, they say. But you’ll be punished for it with a harder skill check. And you can only be creative once per encounter. We don’t want all that creativity to go to your head. After all, the DM has a script for you to follow and he’s going to tell you what it is.

In virtually every roleplaying game I’ve ever played, the default style of play was for the player to tell the GM what they wanted to do and for the GM to figure out how to adjudicate that with the rules.

But the new DMG is telling us that, in 4th Edition, the DM is supposed to tell the players what they’re going to do and then, if the players want to deviate from that narrow CRPG-style script, they’re going to suffer the consequences and the DM will only let them get away with it so many times.

It’s certainly true that, in other games, you could get a bad DM who would railroad the players and force them to do what he wanted them to do by making everything else difficult or impossible. The difference is that, in 4th Edition, making everything else difficult or impossible is what you’re supposed to do. Those are the rules of the game.

In terms of the rules it’s hocking, the philosophy it’s espousing, the advice it’s giving, and the style of gaming it encourages, this is some of the worst material I have ever seen in a roleplaying manual. It’s literally right up there with World of Synnibar, which prohibited the GM from making house rules and informed the players that, if they caught the GM deviating from the official rulebook, they should chastise the GM and reward themselves double XP for that session.

FURTHER READING
Playtesting 4th Edition: Skill Challenges