Session Post Mortem

I decided to post what happened yesterday and my analysis of it separately, because both feel like walls of text already. I imagine as I get sessions under my belt I'll not need to post so much, but I think this is important for my learning to DM better.

Introducing Swords & Wizardry

So, I got my two completely new players. I found out last session that I had too many sheets of paper, so I bought some little presentation folders at the local office supply and slipped all my streamlined Swords & Wizardry handouts in those.


This allowed me to place related pages facing each other, so when making gear choices players could just glance across to see weapons to choose from too.



Essentially, these are simple player's handbooks. I thought about making them in booklet form, but ran out of time and was worried that the smaller format would work against my attempt to simplify and clarify. I may still try.

The new players seemed to grasp everything fine. It took us a little more than 30 minutes to make characters. Later, after their characters died, they were able to make their own in a matter of minutes. I was thinking about Vancian magic in regards to explaining how magic works-- it is very easy. I used the metaphor of a gun with one bullet, and later referred to the Sleep spell as the mage's shotgun, with one shot. I can't imagine a spell point system simple enough to explain to a newbie and get playing without confusion.

Another thing that I noticed last session, players need help with names. Now maybe if I left them to their own designs I'd get cool names like Tenser and Mordenkainen, but I was surprised to find that the slowest part of character creation was choosing a name. Luckily, I had a rough list of medieval European names, but I think it would be a good investment to put a little thought and energy in a few sheets of names, especially when characters keep dying.

The new players started out with the idea that it was them versus the already existing players. It was unfortunate that they couldn't have started the same session to avoid this feeling, but once people started dying, they quickly realized they would have to work together.

These rules are simple and effective. The new players understood and are coming back for more next Friday.

Hirelings

These are essential in low level, old school play, period. But because of their presence I have to be careful. I tried to give each at least one trait to give them something identifiable. I really need to start having them act more like separate entities. The players were having them do all the risky stuff, like look in windows and climb down wells. While I had the hirelings protest a little, they never balked. I think that is going to happen next session. I'll roll to see if any of the hirelings don't want to even go on the adventure, the rest will demand renegotiation of terms, and no more taking the big risks. Rumors will spread around town that the characters are bad bosses if they aren't careful.

My portraits for the hirelings helped give them a more solid existence, but I didn't have enough prepared. I suggested players make their own portraits for their hirelings, to distribute some of the work.

Experience Points

In my campaigns of the past I kept track of all experience myself and let players know when they leveled up. I didn't want the met-game of XP getting in the way of roleplaying. Now I'm realizing that if players knew the treasure they found was worth more than the monsters slain, they would be even more hungry for the former and even more interested in avoiding the latter.

Also, I usually tallied up experience points post-session so as not to slow down play, but we never used hireling in the way we are now. This is a nightmare to figure out. Do I divide experience points among PCs and hirelings? And if so, each hireling that died acts as an XP sink? I'll have to remember exactly which battle each hireling died in. And, only one solitary, original PC survived until the end of the session! So, I suppose he'll be the sole recipient for the XP from most of the early monster encounters. But the rest of the current party, getting a share of the final loot, will still benefit from the adventure. Another reason for giving XP for treasure in a high mortality game.

Mortality

I can see easily why the game evolves towards a PC safe system if you don't resist it. I felt horrible about the players losing their characters. They had started developing interesting personalities; Ricarda the female mage had a beard she had to shave off each day! I could tell the players were a little bummed too, especially Ehud's. This is his second character and the second death. And if not for a random encounter he would have made it out of the ruins alive. But after the initial glum looks, they seemed to take it as a challenge. They want to try again and survive. They even started rolling up new characters without any prompting from me.

So why such high mortality? Well, they made some bad choices, they were standing around for a long time just looking at their new-found treasure map when the flock of stirge buzzed in to attack. And down in the Convent cellar they left a threat behind them! With no rear guard-- a frail porter and a mage with 3 hit points brought up the rear! They haven't figured out how to fight tactically yet either. A few times I mentioned that, yes, hireling so-and-so could attack from the second line because he had a spear, but I don't think they caught the important advantage that fact could give them. Also, they haven't thought of buying some shields or leather armor for their hirelings now that they found gold.

I am really seeing in action the idea that old school play is about players learning how to play. When I was a player back in days of yore, because mortality was so rare, something like combat tactics was not that big a deal. I don't remember being afraid as a player of our old 1e campaign. I think my players were afraid in the convent cellar.

DMcraft

I stood and paced the entire session. I was conscious this was the first roleplaying experience for two players and tried to explain each sword stroke in detail, what the players smelled and heard. I tried to give the bandit leader a realistic personality, with a slight accent. I tried to move things along quickly and not get bogged down on any rulings. It seemed to work; when they sliced a rat in half or impaled a ghoul, the players would say "yeah!"

I screwed up on a simultaneous initiative ruling and felt it was important enough to backtrack a little, which ended in a hireling death. But I think I got it now and that shouldn't happen again. I put a key in a chest which I had intended to open a door in the convent basement, but completely forgot about it. Oh, well, it can open one of the cell doors . . . or, wait a minute . . . aha, maybe they need it at the treasure map location.

I'm getting the sense that one of the most important qualities a DM needs is confidence, confidence that they can make things work, that they can improvise if needed, that mistakes will happen and are important to learn from.

On my sandbox, I've been fllowing the Western Marches philosophy that town is a boring place to buy supplies. Adventure is out there, in the wild. But I feel I was too brief in my sketch of it. When I asked what the players planned for next session the mentioned following the treasure map, "because, really it's the only thing to do." I felt bad at hearing that. I plan to make a player map of the area and sprinkle some adventure hooks. I want the players to have choices.

Luckily, the map shows another feature on the way to the final destination. This is my megadungeon lying in wait. This will be a choice for the players, "Do we investigate this ruined city, or push on to the treasure?" And even then the megadungeon will be there for the exploration. Now to get cracking designing that thing . . .

Post Play Narrative

Ahh, I love this game. The story so far . . .

Last week we left our heroes in the midst of a ruined convent holding a crying infant they had just pulled from a well. They were catching their breath after slaying two black ants the size of dogs.

Part 1: Two New Adventurers and a Few Deaths
This week found a second party investigating the ruins heading toward the sound of the infant. The two parties met around the well. At the same time the noise drew a sizable band of bandits. They seemed to be hungry and a little intimidated by all the serious men-at-arms in the party.

Over the wailing of the baby, the mage Ricarda argued that the baby should be abandoned. Warrior Anselm didn't seem to want any part of that idea. Finally the mage Ehud thought to offer the infant some food and it fell asleep.

The bandits were appeased with trail rations and water in exchange for information of where the party might find books. This information led the party to a roofless corner room filled with manzanita. Apparently the remains of the convent library, they saw chains sunk in the walls attached to the remnants to books. While investigating the chains the burly fighter Henry was set upon by a pack of lean gray rats the size of cats. Poor hireling Warmund (who had climbed down the well to get the baby) was felled by the rats. Ricarda cast sleep dropping them all and Ehud set about crushing their small skulls with his staff while Anselm covered the party with his bow.

The books attached to the chains turned out to have weathered to nothing but thick leather covers. But Ehud stumbled on a heavy oak trunk almost completely buried underneath the manzanita. The trunk yielded a rotted canvas sack of carved ivory mice, a leather wallet of gold coins, a key, and a single manuscript page that appeared to be a map.

Unfortunately, while the party took their sweet time looking over the map a swarm of black hummingbird-like creatures came over the wall and swooped to attack. Henry and two men-at-arms fell to their bloodsucking. Ehud and Anselm took to their heels immediately with the baby and the treasure. Ricarda went down while her porter and hired sword arm fought on desperately until all the creatures were slain. They carried her body and managed to catch up to the others outside the convent where all headed back to the village.

Part 2: the Second Attempt and More Deaths

So, out of ten members the party lost four: a fighter and three hirelings. After selling the mice and gathering some information the party set about looking for manpower with a vengeance. Anselm managed to raise three men-at arms, Ehud two, Ricarda had no luck, and Cedric became a full fledged member of the party and hired his own guard.

The party was determined to be quick and efficient, this included smashing the iron lock on the convent's front gate rather than walking around to the break in the wall they had used before. Unfortunately the banging on the lock drew two giant ants, one of them lager than they had seen before, the size of a shetland pony. The men-at-arms circled the beasts but no spear or sword could do anything against the hard carapaces. With the party's desperation growing, Ricarda cast sleep, felling the ants.

After poking around the manzanita to make sure they had missed no books, the party entered the central church. Inside they saw the walls had been smeared with earthtones by small hands, the altar desecrated with a tiny dried body stuffed with manure. The church had two squint holes looking into anchorite cells, one of which the wall-smearers had apparently given a wide berth. Hireling Wilmar, on looking through the window, cried out and fell, paralyzed but breathing.

The party decided to leave whatever was in the cell alone. Ehud's investigations led to the discovery that the altar held the secret to opening two heavy iron plates on each side of it. Each plate opened to reveal narrow stairs leading down.

Some Bad Choices in the Depths


The still-paralyzed Wilmar was hidden behind the altar and the party advanced down the stairs on the left. They found themselves in a large, barrel-vaulted room. Towards the center of the room, a dim blue glow led them to the skeletal remains of someone kitted out like themselves. This unfortunate was still holding a glowing misericord.

While the party investigated the remains, Ricarda heard the sounds of naked feet running on the stone in the darkness. She screamed and pushed closer into the center of the party. Cedric saw a milk-white naked woman run past, but kept it to himself.

After the party searched the area, they found another set of stairs down and chose the right most. A grunt from Ricarda who was bringing up the rear with her porter, alerted the party to danger. With some panic they decided to push on an found themselves in a dead-end passage with five holes in the floor covered by stone slabs. Investigation revealed the remains of immured anchorites and a small cache of valuables, including the information they were seeking.

On climbing back up the stairs they searched the large room again and found the grisly remains of Ricarda and her porter. The white woman finally revealed herself, apparently drawn to the group by a hunger. Eldred, a hireling was paralyzed under her blow and things looked grim until the hireling Udonathar impaled it on his spear.

Paralyzed Eldred was placed in a corner near the remains of poor Tom the porter so the party could go down the remaining stairs. They found a narrow passage with five locked cells and caught a glimpse of white moving in one which made them decide it was time to leave.

On ascending the stairs they were shocked to see a large pack of giant rats feasting on poor Eldred in the corner. The pack turned on the party and Ehud fell under their teeth. The rest of the party manged two slay the rest, driving off two of the wounded. At last the party set their sight home and made for the village as quickly as possible. Those remaining arrived safely. At which point they remembered poor Wilmar left paralyzed behind the altar.

The local priest gave them some clues as to the meaning of the map and begged them not to give the documents they found to the patron that hired them because he fears internecine strife is immanent. The party agreed and plans to follow their map next week.

Oh, and the weerdly growing baby carried throughout the adventure, was bathed and clothed in the village and left outside the walls at the priest's urging.

Snake Skeleton Tower

Perfect for your temple of the forgotten snake god! An art installation with a giant snake skeleton roofing a spiral bamboo walkway.

via Neatorama

Tools - Hand Signs

This was just what you were looking for to give your thieves guild or local frog-god cult some secret hand signs, isn't it? Or maybe that ominous statue in level four of your megadungeon requires a certain sequence of signs to get past safely. Use the letters as a key. Only, let us know of any devious devisings you come up with for these.

Found here from the Book of Knowledge Vol. 17.

My First D&D Experience

My family, while friendly, is not full of outgoing types. What I remember of social interaction involved relatives or long-time friends from our church. We didn't mingle or meet new people. You have to realise this to understand the oddity of my introduction to D&D.

I was in elementary school at the time, probably sixth grade. One of two friends told me about D&D on the playground. I can't remember if it was T or J, but most likely J because my parents were soon invited to J's house.

J was a very smart, precocious boy who had some of the social oddities that seem to go hand in hand with those qualities, for example, he would always look up when he talked to anyone.

My memory is not my strong suit, but I remember him telling me on the playground that in D&D you could play knights and fight dragons. I also remember asking if there were witches in the game. An odd question to ask, and probably one of many I asked that day, but I remember asking it specifically because I would be disappointed and confused for years about why a game like D&D would have no way to simulate the witches of folklore.

Anyway, my parents were invited to meet J's parents. They lived one street over. I have a vague recollection of sitting in their living room on the couch while his mother, the nurse, told my parents about how the game would help me with my math. I remember this, because I don't think the mother knew much of anything about D&D and so to proselytize for her son must have been a very nice or very odd thing to do.

This is the image that comes into my head when I think of first encountering D&D: this awkward Ozzy & Harriet social scene, my parents in the house of strangers, being sold on a strange game that would capture my fancy and that, years later, they still don't understand.

I, like everyone probably, can make some criticisms of the decisions my parents made over the years, but I'll forever be grateful that they let me play D&D and left me alone to imagine and read. My relatives to this day think D&D is a demonic game. As a boy I remember telling my mother the demons in the Monster Manual were there because they were enemies, something to fight against. My mother seemed strangely confident in trusting my judgement over the warnings of her sisters and nieces. Perhaps truth and cool reason has a charisma of its own.

I'm meeting with friends this Friday for session two of Swords & Wizardry. I've been trying to wrangle up more players and am pretty sure I'll have two absolute noobs to roleplaying. One of them is a teenage boy. I'm wondering what he'll be thinking as he rolls up his character and whether it will catch his fancy and whether thirty years from now he'll be wrangling strangers for his own games.