Making Mice of Manly Men

In the realms of high fantasy, in lands of limitless possibility, at a fair and fun game table, how do you make the player feel small, and weak, and utterly doomed?

This is where a DM's artistry and knowledge of the group shines through when it comes to delivery, but there are concepts so elemental that they also deliver themselves. Things that undermine party loyalty, cast doubt on everything that anyone does, and force the party to re-evaluate their values and perceptions. A master of such concepts is H. P. Lovecraft, with such stories as "The Colour Out of Space," "The Shadow Over Innsmouth," and "The Dreams in the Witch-House." (Why not include "Call of Cuthulhu," you ask? I see that story as being more of a monster/horror story than a genuinely disturbing mindfuck. Not that it's a bad story, but it doesn't suit my purposes today.)

One problem with suddenly bringing twisted/dark concepts upon your group is that it feels like a retcon more than a planned plot twist, and this means you have to build up to the twist, dropping clues that someone isn't all right in the head, or someone isn't exactly playing on your side of the court, but not to such a degree that the character can't justify themselves until the right moment. Another way to avoid tipping your hand is to simply make the eventual turncoats unreliable or vulnerable - perfect candidates to be taken in by the evil cult or enthralled by the wicked sorceror.

Now an NPC that the players suspected or tolerated has turned on them. They're preparing to draw the battle lines. The coup de grace: the actions of the PCs has been working towards the goals of the villain(s). The destruction of the evil Elder Brain will allow the Hive Mother to capture more thralls and have uncontested control over the local Underdark. Can they side with the Illithid? Can they survive against the Beholders when they can turn all eyes to the party? If they make any bold declarations of taking on both foes, will formerly passive enemies become aggressive? How much of their success was dependent on this secret conflict? How many more questions will your party bring up?

It can be even more subtle than having unwittingly changed the tides of a secret and beneficial war between evil powers - misinformed PCs might have done the villain's dirtywork, eradicating fellow heroes while believing them to be brigands. Worse yet is making the PCs think they've done foul deeds on behalf of the villain, be it through illusion or more misinformation.

Today I give you the Missing Keep concept, a tricks-and-traps/who-dunnit? dungeon that will have most of the play directed by the players. If you're like me, and usually don't regulate non-combat situations with turns, you might want to do so in the Keep if things go beyond simple conversation.

Setup: Getting Into the Missing Keep
The Missing Keep can be any ruined or incomplete structure near the PCs' location. A magic-user in the employ of the villains (or a villain him/herself) has woven an illusion about the place, making it look complete, inhabited, and menacing. This mage may either invite the party to the keep through a thrall or pique their curiosity by seeding rumors in the town. Perhaps a monster under the mage's control will attack and lure the party to the keep. However you do it, they need to be brought inside.

Missing Keep Interior: The Main Hall
A brief, winding corridor leads to the high, open main hall. Bleeding walls and apparent structural instability should set the tone; if anyone tries to turn back, they'll find the door missing. There is no way to break the walls. (Actually, they can demolish the entire building, but if they see a wall, they will think they've touched a wall, and cannot pass through the illusion. For thematic purposes, it's impossible to disbelieve the illusion. You might want to watch the original Star Trek episode, "The Menagerie.")

Within the hall is an image of the mage, with a cage of four children from the local village. Have him make an impossible demand of the party that would also benefit the villains, in exchange for the children, with the threat that they may answer only once. Upon pleading, refusing or attacking, darkness falls upon the hall, the children scream, and the party splits up.

Missing Keep Interior: Individual Cells
Each character will awaken, separately, to four chained goblin minions (they can be kobolds or gibberlings or whatever small monsters you like, but stick to one type, and make them extremely easy to kill). Breaking free of their bonds, they will attack the character. Once slain, reveal secretly to each player that instead of the corpses of goblins on the ground, they see the corpses of children. ("They" being used for gender neutrality, not plurality. Each player will be secretly told this.) When describing the bodies before the entire group or party, they are called goblin corpses. If they interact with or ask more details about the bodies, they're secretly told that they're child corpses.

The doors to the cells are unlocked by keys in the childrens' pockets. They can return to the main hall, where they find the cage open and the children slain; the cells they came from become empty once they leave. After they've discussed what's happened, the image of the mage will appear before them and declare that one of them is a murderer, and that only their death can help them see the way out of his keep. (Emphasis on see! Heh.) The mage isn't lying - an exit will appear if one of them dies. However, it's unlikely anyone will be willing to volunteer, and the players should be clever enough to learn that they all have basically the same information to act on. While the players deliberate, anyone who stands apart or wanders off should be visited by the voice of the mage, offering help. He'll point out tell-tale signs of gore or distress on one of the other characters. Try to do this in a way that factionalizes the party. If you want to throw something vaguely disturbing at them, have the children come back as zombies, singling someone out, perhaps with non-violent moaning and pointing/groping.

Spoiler! The Good Ending
Death isn't the only way out. Even with the mage playing on the party's doubts and fears, it should be possible to reach the conclusion that they killed illusions, or goblins. If they can all agree and declare that none of them killed the children, the mage's image will bow to them and release them. If the mage didn't considerably delay the party from continuing on the main plot, perhaps he made some useful observations.

Alternative: Pairs
If good secrecy can be maintained, you might want to have characters wake up in pairs in the cells, adding a Clue-like alibi dimension to the Missing Keep. If you have an odd-sized group, putting one of them alone could be amusing. Even with an even-sized group, have two people not in a pair could also lead to interesting debate.

Hopefully this little adventure template will add an enjoyably distressing page to their character's lives, but your delivery is key. You could make it feel like a psychological thriller, a suspenseful drama, or even a a wacky comedy like Murder by Death.

However you do it, have fun.

House-ruling

"The D&D game has neither losers nor winners, it has only gamers who relish exercising their imagination... In a sense, the D&D game has no rules, only rule suggestions. No rule is inviolate, particularly if a new or altered rule will encourage creativity and imagination. The important thing is to enjoy the adventure."

Tom Moldvay, 3 December 1980

Tom's words were in the foreward of the second printing of the Basic Set of the D&D game, over 25 years ago. Five years ago, neither they nor words like them graced the Player's Handbook for v3.5 of the game. The rules were introduced as just that: rules. When official sources offered alternatives to the rules they weren't given a separate chapter, they were put in a sidebar and called "variant."

That didn't stop anyone from making "house rules," and that's a testament to the adaptability of the system and the quality of the player base. In fact, with the d20 System Trademark License, generously released by Wizards of the Coast for use by third-party publishers, people published their own "variants," replacing whole systems and offering additional content.

But still, there are people who stubbornly refer to books as the holy word on gaming, and we call those people Rules Lawyers. They don't appreciate Tom's words, or the DM's ability to change rules and rely on a verbal understanding with the players. Their whole world seems to be dependent on the source - the books. Dealing with them is like dealing with a mad cultist; they'd sooner die than look at things in a different light, unless they find their own gaming path to follow.

I am a strong proponent of flexible rules and streamlined gameplay. Complex systems should be abstracted enough that they make sense but aren't unnecessarily involved; I don't mix roleplaying and simulation, and that might show through with some of my future emphasis on theatrics, and fostering conflict for the enrichment of the spirit over pedantic setting knowledge.

Later this week I'll have a promised Conflict or Drama post, but I thought I'd do some DM posturing in the mean time.

Good vs. Good

We see it all the time in our television dramas: the heroes (or at least, the typically well-intentioned characters) have a falling out over sometimes petty incidents. Characters may disagree on how to go about doing the right thing (or whatever it is they mean to accomplish). But, by the end of the season, if not the end of the episode, the characters have either reconciled their differences or changed sides. Very little lasting conflict, very few epic story arcs, are centered around the good guys fighting amongst themselves.

In today's post I want to give you the Twin Nations. (Rename and restructure them however you like, as they'll have very generic names and fairly basic themes.) Both face common foes, be they military dictators from other neighboring nations, monsters, or aliens. Neither of these nations is particularly corrupt or unstable. And yet, they inevitably come into conflict with one another (when greater threats are not looming).

The first of the Twins is the Kingdom. Led by the firm but well-meaning King, the Kingdom's people live regimented lives. Military training is mandated for all boys of age (about 13), and women (about 18). Few common folk need to be called into service at any point following their training, as either their home becomes threatened or they volunteer their services to the King indefinitely. Crime is simply not tolerated. The laws are few, but harsh, and the law cares nothing for woes which are not crimes. While there is crime, it's rarely publicised and always dealt with swiftly. Ranking military officers, rather than nobility, govern towns and districts of large cities, the reasoning being that they have proven their leadership. People live simple lives where they look after themselves and their families and aspire to glory.

The second nation is the Republic, quite obviously governed as a republic. Most people (if not all) take part in regional politics, electing their leaders who in turn elect a national leader. Threats of secession and alliances of militia (especially on the border of the Kingdom) keeps the Republic dynamic. Cities tend to be smaller, but more numerous, and laws can change from town to town and even road to road (and local laws take priority over national ones). Juries tend to pass judgement on all crimes, while wardens collect suspects and manage prisoners who are to await trial; wardens aren't often thought highly of in the Republic due to their authoritarian image, despite their lack of real power in most regions. There is crime, and serving on a jury is looked at almost with the same anticipation as being picked for a team in a sport. Watching trials is done almost as much for entertainment as it is out of a sense of civil duty. While there isn't a significant difference in the amount of crime in the Republic when compared to the Kingdom, it is highly sensationalized. People live simple lives where they look after themselves and their neighbors and always keep an eye out for something interesting.

The root of the conflict between the Kingdom and the Republic goes back several generations, and few people really remember why they view the other nation in such a harsh light. Really, though, the root isn't terribly different from the types of events that renew the conflict regularly: a criminal commits an act in one nation and crosses the border, where they commit another act, becomes captured, and is sent through the legal system of that nation. The other also wants to process the criminal, and their ideological differences on "due process" prevent this from happening. Duty-bound soldiers from the Kingdom or freedom fighters from the Republic then cross the border in an attempt to apply the "right" justice, and someone gets hurt. The unsanctioned extradition of a prisoner, or the quagmire that follows, can make for an excellent plot for your group.

Very rarely does the conflict stem from a desire to spread their beliefs; rather, it's simply a desire to handle personal grievances personally. In fact, during times of peace, the Republic's regions bordering the Kingdom may tend to demonstrate a more systematic approach to decision-making, while officers in Kingdom towns bordering the Republic tend to act under advisement from counsel or community leaders. This is made possible (during times of peace!) by the free exchange of ideas as people visit the other nation for trade or out of wanderlust, and return having seen how the other side does it.

Off-topic: 4th Edition Playtests

I'd like to stray from the intended path with a second post this week, about 4th Edition Dungeons & Dragons. There are forums out there full of criticism (as well as praise) for the upcoming rules change. I was decidedly opposed to 4E, at first. I bandwagoned with the cries that roleplay was being undermined, that the gameworld was being made unbelievable and non-conducive to deep storytelling.

And then to see if my points were valid, I ran a 4E playtest using what we know about the rules so far.

It's not so bad. As a ruleset for managing the world on your game table, Dungeons & Dragons still works. It's not a perfect system - some powers have damage outputs too high or too low for the situation, although that's the only problem I've seen so far. I know I'd rather be playing Shadowrun or Ars Magica, if anyone around here was willing to give it a chance. But that's not the case, and D&D (regardless of edition) seems to attract both experienced and first-time gamers like moths to a lamp. So, we use D&D.

I almost exclusively use homebrew materials at my gametable, blending campaign settings together like smoothies and taste-testing the combination with my players, but for 4E I'm using adventures released by fans on ENWorld.org. Despite this, I've been able to put my own spin on the game. It's also taught me that the story that the GM and their players tell is more important than whether or not there are rules for Tieflings in the PHB, or what the specific traps and monsters in room D4 are supposed to be.

So, I like at-will and per-encounter powers. I like the ability to throw hordes of level 1 to 3 enemies at my 1st-level party without utterly crushing them. I don't like Tieflings, I do like gnomes. I'll probably write a lot of rituals for the casters in my party, if the PHB doesn't have a good enough selection.

Yes, I'll take up 4E. I don't care if you do, too, or not. Play whatever edition (or game) you think helps you tell the most interesting stories. Save or Die will continue to focus on weekly, setting- and game- free thoughts on roleplaying in general: it isn't the rules that make the game, it's the people, and how they play it.