Nazis

It's early in the morning, and I have a couple hours before I have to get the kid up for his cross-country training, after which I need to go down to the court house to work on...just sad, sad shit that I don't really want to do.

But it's sad shit that I have to do, unfortunately. The last couple-three days would have been wonderful, wonderful summer days spent with my family and our friends...except that I have this serious stress hanging over my head, a cloud of poison that just taints the joy in my life. To be brief: I need to sell my (dead) mother's house in order to wrap up her estate (I'm the executor) but my brother is refusing to move out (I allowed him to stay there while we cleaned it, since he's a hobo) and now is determined to fight me in court. He's a stupid asshole without a legal leg to stand on, but he's just intent on dragging this out as long as possible, making it as time consuming and crappy as possible.

*sigh*

So, I'm up this morning, because this is the kind of stuff that wakes me up at 5am and doesn't let me get back to sleep. And while sipping some coffee and checking through Ye Old Email, I saw a reddit post about some kid (a 20 year old) who believes he's discovered that one of his players (another kid: 18 years old) is a "Neo-Nazi" and wants to know what he should do about it. 

[long, long pause]

There are many humans in this world that I'd prefer to not hang out with or have at my dinner table. For all sorts of reasons. I mean, for a LOT of different reasons, not just matters of "political ideology." There are plenty of people...even people I know, even family members...who I simply have little to nothing in common with and that generate "nothing much" of interest to me and whom (I'd assume) have little interest in what I might have to share with them. 

'Course, that's generally a false assumption...I get dragged into social settings with people I don't want to hang with all the time (this is usually my wife's doing) and...me being me...I usually find something to have a conversation with them, that's a bit better than what the weather is like this time of year. It's not terribly hard (for me, at least) to dig a little deeper under a person's surface facade and find some common ground, some place where we can meet and exchange ideas.

But while it's always "worth the effort" to find commonality and make connections with our fellow humans, a lot of times that 'connecting' is the ONLY thing of any value coming from the effort. Just because I've learned someone shares my love of a good tuna melt doesn't mean I'm going to grow, develop, or evolve in any meaningful way. Making connections aren't the same things as making bonds.

However, over my five plus decades of life, in interacting with all sorts of people (and having a very wide and eclectic social circle) I've drawn some conclusions about humanity, that I'd like to share. 

#1 Humans, as entities, are GOOD. I really, honestly mean that. We are beings of "goodness," by our very nature. I understand that is a pretty difficult idea to swallow when there are countless examples of people who have done (and who continue to perpetrate) really evil and despicable acts. But it's something I've come to believe based on my experience. This is not some belief I have based on my religion (although my particular religion would agree with my personal conclusions)...I just have never experienced the contrary. I have never seen or experienced any evidence of a human that was "born bad" or is "evil to the core." Some might say (perhaps) that I've just been lucky in this regard...I acknowledge that's a possibility (though my religion, which has been around a lot longer than me, would say otherwise).

#2 "Bad humans" are the result of bad choices. I believe that humans have free will...we absolutely do. Nothing "makes us do" the things we do, once we're adults. We have the ability to choose what we do. 

"But I was starving!"

"But my child was going to die!"

"But we were facing an existential threat!"

Bull. Shit. We always have a choice...humans always have a choice. "But they put a gun to my head! I would have died!" We will all, some day, die. ALL of us. Shuffling off this mortal coil is part of our human experience...wanting to prolong our lives (i.e. "survive") is also human nature and totally understandable. But it does not remove our free will. "Coercion" is a subjective thing, influencing different people to different degrees. 

In the end, humans always get their say in their own actions; and it is their actions that define our behavior, good and bad.

What we perceive as "bad people" are people who have made bad choices. I'd guess that all the people reading this blog can look back at times they've made bad choices in their lives...I know that I have. And it doesn't matter the reason or motivation. A "bad" choice made for "good" reasons is still "bad." And if you make enough "bad choices," even if you're making them for "good" reasons, people are going to perceive you as a "bad person."

However, I should probably use more specific language. When I say "bad" I mean "evil," not just "wrong." An evil choice is one that does harm, intentionally. And for it to have been "intentional," the person making the choice must have had awareness and knowledge that the choice would do harm. 

And, by the way, that "harm" includes "harm to ourselves," not just harm to others. If I know cigarettes are bad for my health and will kill me, then deciding to smoke is a "bad choice."

We all make bad decisions, bad choices, over the course of our lives; most of us make a LOT of bad choices. But we also make good choices, too. And many, many of us repent of our bad choices and try to make amends for those bad choices...or, at least, try to "not make the same mistakes" (bad choices) in the future. That's all to our credit. 

What we perceive as "evil people" are people who have made bad choices, and continue to make bad choices, and who seem unwilling or unable to stop making bad choices. And I acknowledge that it can be hard for a person who has spent years or decades of making bad choices to suddenly stop...habits are habits, and habitual behavior becomes identity. And changing one's identity is akin to asking them to dissolve themselves...it goes against that "survival" aspect of human nature, mentioned earlier.

I've seen this in action with my own brother. Oh, he doesn't do "evil" to others, except in minor ways (the stress he's causing me and my family is pretty small in the grand scheme of "harm" one can do in the world). But he has spent years of self-harm with his decision-making, to the point that it has warped his own perception of who he is, i.e. his identity. It has not mattered that he's had other people...good friends, family members, loved ones...trying to help and support him and show him what he could be, or remind him of what he once was. He embraces his current identity, and continues to make the same poor choices and continues to refuse help and continues to blame his problems on external factors...rather than his own decisions.

But he's a 49 year old man. Not an 18 year old kid.

#3 With life and free will, change is always possible. Just because you've been a jerk in the past, doesn't mean you have to be a jerk in the future...nor even a jerk in the present. Of course, once you have a reputation as a jerk, it's hard for people to see you as anything else, even if you're trying to turn over a new leaf. That's just the way things are.

But it's possible. I'm a person who's gone through multiple "transformations" over the course of my life...51 years isn't a whole helluva' lot int he grand scheme of things, but it's still half a life. I went from being a real "goody-goody," to some kind of "tough guy/badass," to a "slacker/hedonist," to an "all natural Peaceful Warrior," to a "grown up / professional," to a "world traveller," to a "stay-at-home dad."  And even the current "role" that I'm playing can be broken up into different chapters, as I've had to evolve and adapt to my kids' stages of development. 

[just a couple days ago I was talking with my son, discussing the importance of our relationships with other humans and the creation of those relationships while still retaining our authenticity...ideas and concepts that will be important as he enters the arena of high school, but very different from what I'd tell him when he was my daughter's age]

These transformations have never been easy, mainly because I'm not a very patient individual and real change takes time; replacing prior habits with new habits is not an overnight process, even when one is focused and dedicated to altering your behavior and identity. In fact, the shorter the time you give yourself to change, the harder it is...gradual change (like the kind that transforms a young man into an old man) is the easiest of all, but it will take a good long time. 

Interestingly (well, interesting to me) I can say that all the transformations I've made have been done out of love; occasionally love for myself, but USUALLY out of love for others. Love for a girlfriend, love for my parents, love for my wife, love for my kids. I think...I think...that for real change, real transformation to occur, a person must be highly motivated. And for most humans (a fairly lazy bunch, when you get down to it), it's hard to think of a much higher motivation than love. Death, I suppose...but as transforming identity is akin to death, it's hard for death to motivate much more than changing (small) aspects of our identity (quitting smoking or changing diet, for example).

Does ostracizing individuals aid them in finding love?

Back to the "Nazi" gamer kid.

I don't make a big secret about my politics: I tend to lean pretty far to the left. Once upon a time, I thought it was somewhat important to not support (i.e. give money to) folks who championed beliefs that were antithetical to my own...especially people who I felt were making deliberately harmful choices with their works or their propaganda or...well, with their lives.

Of course, I never thought once about the people who might be putting money in my pocket, supporting me financially by buying my books, regardless of our "political differences."  

But I've grown since those days. For one thing, I've gamed with a lot of different people over the years, from all sorts of backgrounds, none of which ever made any difference to me...even (or especially) when I was younger. Because we weren't coming together to discuss politics; instead, we were there to play games. And we're still there to play games. LOTS of people like Dungeons & Dragons...people of all genders, people of all colors, people of all religions, people of all political ideologies. Are they good at playing the game? That's the real question. Do they get along well with their table mates? Do they respect the authority of the DM? Do they lie and cheat? Do they contribute to the fun of the activity?

I don't make a big secret about my politics, but I'm not expressing my politics when we sit down to game. I may use my knowledge of real world religions to inform the various churches and temples of my world (maybe), but I'm not trying to convert my players to any particular belief system. 

Do I permit and allow and accept hatred and intolerance at my table? Eh. It just doesn't usually come up. When we were kids, it was pretty "par for the course" to make transgressive remarks and shit-talk and whatnot...which is something you find in teens and adolescents of all stripes (in my experience). But I don't allow bullying at my table, and I tend to curb things before people get uncomfortable...mainly just by focusing the action on the game being played. If the players aren't focused on the game, then chances are I'm doing a poor job of being a Dungeon Master.

I play with (and allow) all sorts of people at my table. If a really hardcore white supremacist or lefty radical or whatever came to my table and was uncomfortable about the folks I allowed to sit in I'd say, "you don't have to play." If one of my kids complained about one of the new kids I was allowing into a session, I'd say "you don't have to play" (of course, the new kid would only be there because he or she was invited by one of my children, so this only happens as a 'sibling issue'). 

Let me be clear: I dislike Nazi (and Neo-Nazi) ideology...a lot. 

But there's a LOT of ideology out there I dislike. I've been pretty disgusted by actions the state of Israel has taken in recent months. To me, the war in Gaza has looked a lot like good old fashioned genocide, and the unprovoked attacks on Iran are indefensible. Very bad choices, in other words. Doesn't mean I'm an anti-semite, or that I "hate jews." I don't even hate the Israelis...I'm sure there are many Israelis who share (some of) my feelings. I know former Russians, now Americans, who are repulsed by Putin's invasion of Ukraine, even as they are proud of their heritage. My own government has made (and continues to make) bad choices, sadly, in the name of political ideology.

But hating the bad doesn't transform the bad.

I've gone from being angry (a lot) and hating things to being sad (a lot). Lots of things make me sad. War and poverty.  Dictators and would-be dictators. Children with cell phones. Lots of things. But sadness doesn't create transformation either. I can be sad about the Neo-Nazi gamer kid ("oh, so sad...") or I can be angry about him ("get the hell out of my hobby!") and the end result will be pretty much the same: there will still be one more Neo-Nazi in the world, doing Neo-Nazi stuff. He might not be my problem (not now, not yet), but that doesn't mean it's not problematic. 

And so, in the words of that Jesus guy, we've got to strive to love our neighbors as ourselves (yep, that old saw...). Which, by the way, ain't the same thing as being permissive of asshole behavior (hate speech, racist epithets, etc.). But I wouldn't kick someone from my table just because of how they voted in the last election. I can't change how you voted in the last election (even if I cared)...and that doesn't mean you won't somehow be changing your tune before the next election.

I've known a LOT of stupid 18 year olds that matured into something better than they were in their youths. I was pretty stupid myself...about a LOT of things.

We tend to throw around little "truisms" like flawed humans or nobody's perfect. Over the years, I've become less and less enamored with these phrases...phrases that imply that there's something wrong with the way we were created. In a grand scheme of the universe...if you believe in a primary actor/mover ("God" in the common parlance) setting things in motion...then you will (as I do) be forced to come to the conclusion that we were created a diverse group of individuals on purpose. We are all "perfect" in our own way...perfect vessels for the souls that are within each and every one of us. With our changing technology, however, we have become a far more secular, and far less spiritual species...and that has led us to (a tendency to) ignore or disregard or disbelieve that animating spirit within each of us...that real, actual thing that is the true uniter of us as a species, despite all our surface, external differences. Our inability (or unwillingness) to connect to each other's souls has...more than anything else...led to the polarization and discord we see in the world, even within nations that once had (if nothing else) a shared identity. 

How can various nations hope to get along if the people within those nations cannot even get along?

I am neither a politician, nor a lawmaker; my actions take place on a much more limited stage, a much smaller scale and scope. And yet, I understand that my actions...my choices...still make a difference. And I'll be even more specific than that: I believe playing D&D with human beings makes a difference. Yes, a silly game about fighting monsters and finding treasure. Outside of kids' sports teams (which longtime readers will know I'm a big fan of), there are precious few formal ways we have of interacting with other people in a cooperative (non-competitive) fashion. Of making human connections. On a larger scale than a romantic couple or even many (most?) nuclear families. Especially for adults...adults who have so many worries and stresses in their lives. 

We need to make human connections. As I wrote waaaay back at the beginning of this post, sometimes the connection itself is the only thing of value from socializing. That was not meant to disparage the act...we do not do this enough in our current society. And with D&D gaming, you have an automatic "in" to connecting with a fellow human on a deeper level than their surface identity.

I've been thinking about this a lot lately.

I've been thinking about it a lot, and yet I haven't known how exactly to express it. This seemed like an opportune time. With regard to the Nazi gamer kid, I could have simply kept my fat mouth shut on the matter, but... (*SIGH*) I have a voice, I have an audience. And I do think it's important. 

Yes, it does matter that you're a damn stupid Nazi. That's a bad, bad choice. But as long as you're respectful or the game and of myself and of the other players at the table, you can play D&D with me. 

We really need to stop hating the fuck out of each other.

O is for "Oh, Man..."

Folks, I apologize, but I need to take a break.

O is actually supposed to be for "Olympic Peninsula." Tomorrow's letter was going to be P for "Palouse." But I have a bunch of stuff going on right now, not least of which is pending legal action against my own brother. As you might imagine, it's a real drag.

But I've got a LOT of stuff on my plate at the moment...some of which IS, in fact, D&D related. And the truth is, unfortunately, I just don't have the time or bandwidth to blog about it right now. I need to shut things down for a bit...probably until July. That's when I hope to be on vacation (in Mexico) and should have the free time to relax and unwind and write about various interesting bits of my fantasy campaign.

Right now's just not the time. Sorry about that.

So, for now: adios muchachos. Catch you on the flip.

[for people who need an A-to-Z fix in June, please check out the parallel series of posts Sterling is doing over on his blog, this month]

N is for Northern Wastes

I missed the April A-Z Blog Challenge this year, so I'm doing my own...in June. This year, I will be posting one post per day discussing my AD&D campaign, for the curious. Since 2020, this is the ONLY campaign I run. Enjoy!

N is for Northern Wastes. That is to say, Canada.

As I've written in earlier posts in this series, there are some things one wishes to have in one's "generic vanilla fantasy" setting. Dense jungles. Life sucking deserts. Sky scraping mountains. Evil empires. Well, add frozen/cold/arctic areas to that list as well. 

From Howard's The Frost Giant's Daughter to Leiber's snowy Nehwon tales ("Stardock," etc.) to Shackleton-inspired adventure stories the Lovecraft's Mountains of Madness to the Viking sagas and those who would novelize their legends...fighting the hostile elements of cold, snow, and ice (while also dealing with monsters, etc.) are a big part of tropey fantasy worlds.

Fortunately for me, my world includes British Columbia. 

There's not much I care to write about B.C. specific to my setting. Like our real world, the bulk of the population lives within the southern third of the territory. Only something like 5% of it is arable land. Much of it is mountainous; more than 60% is heavily forested. And the farther north you travel the colder it gets, until you hit the Yukon,..pretty much certain death away from the coast.

As with all of my setting, there are are a LOT fewer people than our real world. The Washington State of my campaign is home to about two million persons...a little more than a quarter of its actual population. Using the same ratio, B.C. would be about 1.3M in total. And yet, of Washington's two million, only about 1.5M are human (maybe)...I've been tweaking the numbers based on historic populations (literally: I'm looking at census data 100 years before present). If I do the same for British Columbia (and why would I not), there's a bit more than half a million humans living in the Northern Wastes...a territory a LOT larger than Washington State.

But uninhabited by humans, doesn't mean "uninhabited." This is where you'll find giants: all the major ones (i.e. the ones from the MM), and probably some of the lesser types as well. The hill giants lair in the more temperate parts of B.C., the frost in the colder, the fire giants within volcanic caverns beneath the mountains, etc. Not so far away as to be outside of a long trek from determined adventurers, but far enough that they're not a general nuisance to the southlanders.

Until they are. 

But much as I am anticipating (and looking forward to) running the Giant series for my players, right now I'm working on other plans for Canada. Specifically, the tournament adventure I'm developing for Cauldron 2025 is set in B.C. specifically along the Fraser River (or the"StoLo" as it's called in my campaign). People said they enjoyed the tourney adventure I wrote last year, but some considered it, perhaps, a bit "too easy." Which...Heavens!...that cannot be allowed to stand!

[personally, I'm not sure what they're talking about...when I ran it for my home group the result was a TPK. Maybe I'm just mean...?]

So the new adventure...titled Rivers of Blood, Death, and Glory...should be a skosh more dangerous. Maps have been drawn, stocking finished, pre-gens generated, and I'm just trying to pare down the writing to something manageable. Originally, I'd hoped to playtest it yesterday (on Father's Day)...but then my kids had four soccer games on the docket. Which...sure, it's a bit maddening (because I have other adventures I also need to playtest in the next couple-three months). But priorities are priorities. Plus watching my kids play in the sunshine? With other soccer parents handing out beers from their cooler? I mean, come on...it was pretty awesome Father's Day. Diego scored three goals in two games, and both kids’ teams crushed their opponents (combined goal differential was something like 17-4...all wins). D&D can wait...Wednesday is looking pretty free in the afternoon.

Sorry. I'm digressing.

Anyway, I'll wrap up by saying Canada gives me a nice sub-arctic environment to play around with (yes, I understand it's temperate in the lower elevations)...which lends itself to increasing the diversity of adventures I can offer my players. That's a very good thing, and yet another reason why I am O So Satisfied with the PNW for my setting.

Later, gators.

: )

Majestic beauty...and giants.

M is for Modules

I missed the April A-Z Blog Challenge this year, so I'm doing my own...in June. This year, I will be posting one post per day discussing my AD&D campaign, for the curious. Since 2020, this is the ONLY campaign I run. Enjoy!

M is for Modules...not Magic. I considered writing about magic in my campaign setting, but I've already written extensive blog posts on the way I run magic in my game here and here and here. If you missed those earlier (or just want to refresh your memory), they're still there and I'm still handling magic the same.

Nope, instead I'm going to talk about modules. "Module" is the term given and used by TSR to describe their published adventure scenarios. I assume their choice is because these adventures were meant to be "modular:" easily slipped into any Dungeon Master's home brew campaign setting. Portable, in other words.

I own a lot of these old modules...something in the number of 75+, not counting compilation "super modules." Only one or two are from the 2E era; most (close to 60) were written for 1E AD&D. That is a ton of adventure modules...enough for YEARS of play, even if I was running a weekly game. Which I'm not.

I received an email a couple weeks ago from a rank novice D&Der, asking me about the general purpose of adventure modules: how important are they, what are their purpose, what makes a module "good" or "bad," and some specifics about the DragonLance modules. Here's (some of) what I told him:

There are three types of people who play D&D: DMs, players, and folks who alternate between the two roles. Only DMs have any concern for modules. A module is a modular advenure: a scenario designed to slot into a DM's campaign; in my experience, the term ALWAYS refers to a pre-written, published adventure (i.e. something you buy or download).

In my opinion, modules serve TWO purposes: 1) they provide an adventure scenario/situation for the convenience of the DM (i.e. so the DM doesn't have to come up with something themselves), and 2) for NEW DMs, it provides a 'blueprint' of sorts to show how to create adventure situations/scenarios for their home campaign. The Moldvay Basic set is (IMO) the best introduction to D&D concepts one can get...that the module B2 Keep on the Borderlands was included in the box is MAINLY additional educational material for the starting DM.

The DragonLance modules were published during the age of 1E...yes, 1E...and were a grand experiment for TSR. In my estimation, their popularity was due mainly to the bestselling novels that accompanied them. They allowed players to game the events in novels, using the characters of the novels, i.e. follow the Weiss/Hickman plot/storyline (without actual agency and thus sans what makes the D&D game great).

Many early modules, including the Slaver series you reference, were written as tournament scenarios for conventions. As such, they had 'win' conditions (because parties competed against each other). The only thing they "test" is players' ability to meet the objectives the module sets. I wrote a tournament adventure for last year's Cauldron con (Europe's only OSR con) and the only thing it measured was how much treasure one group could find over another. That is, it measured players' adventuring skill.

The reason to use modules is to reduce the amount of work the DM has to do; your DM can write all his/her own adventures, OR he/she can just use modules, OR they can do a little bit of both. Most DMs choose to do both. They are a labor-saving device, although (for the new DM) they can also show what is possible in adventure design (that is, they can be a teaching tool). But a bad DM running a good module can still result in a poor experience for the players. Such is always the case with a "bad DM" (that term requires a lot of unpacking).

A campaign setting is a WORLD; understand that. It doesn't need ANY dungeons (though we are playing "D&D," right?), nor pre-published modules. What it does needs is a DM to run it, who's willing to create and/or provide SCENARIOS that will lead to adventures...THAT is what adventure gaming is all about.

I post this transcription because I liked my answer to his questions and I felt it outlined my attitude towards adventure modules.

For me, I'm not so much interested in "learning how to write adventures;" at this point in my DMing career, I've got a fairly good handle on that. But I still use modules...many modules!...because they are, as I wrote, a labor-saving device.  None of them are "perfect," but they all provide ideas and concepts (scenarios), maps stocked with dangers and rewards...all things that are welcome for a night of D&D adventure. 

To date, I've repurposed some dozen pre-published adventures for use in my campaign (since going back to AD&D); that's around two to three per year. At that rate, it'd take me a couple decades to use up all the material sitting on my shelves...which isn't my goal, just by the way. When I pull out an adventure module, I'm not looking to "complete" its "story;" all I am looking for is an enticing scenario that players will be interested in tackling (for fun and profit). My world is one that is FULL of such scenarios (many of which I've written myself), but their existence doesn't constitute any sort of "story arc" for the campaign. 

My campaign has no 'arc;' it just IS.

I let the players tell the stories..."war stories," that is...of what happened during a particular session or series of sessions. But the modules aren't there to lend any sort of "coherence" or "narrative framework" to the adventures we're playing. I've used both DL1 and DL14 of the DragonLance series in my campaign, without any of the DL characters, drama, or storyline...just simple (if heavily modified) adventure scenarios. And they were delightful...that is to say, they delighted my players. Without any need for a heroic or epic "plot." D&D doesn't need anything like that to be successful as entertainment. 

My campaign is a world of "dungeons;" modules provide me with more dungeons. That makes them useful to me.

[Happy Father's Day, folks!]

L is for Levels

I missed the April A-Z Blog Challenge this year, so I'm doing my own...in June. This year, I will be posting one post per day discussing my AD&D campaign, for the curious. Since 2020, this is the ONLY campaign I run. Enjoy!

L is for Levels...specifically levels of experience. And, specifically, my thought regarding "level restriction."

I considered making this post's subject "languages," but what I was going to say? The human ("Common") tongue is English. Elves speak Spanish (my kids are bi-lingual and tend to play a lot of elves and half-elves, so that's fun). Orcs speak orc, usually (basically unintelligible except with orcs who speak Common/English...but, then, an orc who doesn't speak English is usually not going to be the type to have a conversation with PCs). Dwarves speak...what? Norwegian maybe? (we have a lot of Scandahoovians in north Seattle) Eh. Who cares? It's not worth a long post at this point...although being able to speak languages is important (and helps make demi-human characters viable in the game).

So, instead let's talk about levels. And this time, you won't see a bunch of AI generated content (apologies for that). Though...well, we'll see if that means "improvement" or not.

I love levels. I especially love how they function in AD&D. I love both what they mean, and I love what they do, mechanically speaking. I love level caps, and I use them exactly as written in the 1E Players Handbook, EXCEPT that I use the +2 level bonus rule from the UA for single-classed demi-humans. Only in classes they could normally multi-class, of course (sorry to all the elven assassins).

I've mentioned this stuff in passing, previously, but I wanted to set down my rules about this once and for all. 

Back circa 2020, I went through ALL the races and ALL the classes and ALL the level restrictions (and multi-class restrictions) to see ALL the potential types of characters that might appear in my campaign setting. I looked at the experience point totals across class types; I looked at what special abilities a character would have at particular character level (whether you're talking "access to 6th level spells" or the ability to multi-attack or attract followers or whatnot). And I made my own notations of how far I wanted each race to level in each class (or whether or not I wanted them to have access to a particular class) so that the "feel" of my campaign would be "correct" for how I envisioned my game world.

And what I found was that the rules in the PHB, as written, were pretty much EXACTLY THE SAME as the conclusions I had come to myself. Considering WHAT my game world looked like...for example, what "half-orcs" are or the distinct manner that elves appear in my game...I wanted certain limits to their race's ability to advance in certain areas.  I wanted limitations in place, because I wanted my world to look a particular way.  Maintaining the level limits, as is, allows me to keep the flavor I want: that of a human-centric fantasy world. 

Rule-wise, non-human characters receive a LOT of advantages over humans, not the least of which include the ability to multi-class and the ability to speak multiple languages from the start. However, because of level and class restrictions, humans still have value and thus players are faced with an interesting choice at the time of character creation: choose a race with a plethora of advantages (but a cap on advancement) or choose a human. Life's full of tough choices, and the choices we make says something about us (at least in that particular moment in time).  That's not WHY I retain level limits, it's just something I've observed that I find...worth mentioning.

As I said: "an interesting choice." And when a player begins approaching that level cap another interesting choice comes about: do I want to keep playing this character? Or do I want to start a new character (perhaps one with more potential for advancement)? That, too, is an interesting choice that I've watched both my kids wrestle with. 

In the end, I find it good for the game. Do I want to appease my players by removing level caps so their beloved player can keep going? No, I don't. Attachment to a character is expected to occur when a person puts time and effort into playing a singular PC, but attachment is not desirable. Too much attachment is what leads to things like 5E and death saves and whatnot. Too much appeasement leads to nonsensical gonzo games with half-demon clerics of Law and dragonborn bards croaking songs through a mouthful of flame. 

F. That. Noise.

Tough choices. Look, folks: we live this one life...we make choices, priorities of our time and energy, depending on what we think is important. Right now, I'm writing a blog post because I think practicing my writing and getting out some of my game philosophy and sticking to my A-Z commitment are all MORE IMPORTANT than doing the dishes or folding the laundry (both things I'll do later). When my newly graduated kid wakes up, I'll probably leave off this post (even if it's not yet done) because spending time with my 14 year old, soon-to-be grown-and-gone kid, is more important. The older we get the more choices we seem to be faced with, and the less time we have left to make those choices and decide what our life is about. And who knows what our "life after death" will look like?

Playing D&D with tough choices is good training.

Now, it HAS been suggested that one could allow players unlimited level advancement (in any race) while still presenting players with "an interesting choice" by giving humans various advantages of their own, just as the non-human species have. You see this tack with 3E-5E systems (where they first removed level limits and class restrictions), but I'm talking about Old School DMs adding additional rules and mechanics to the (1E) game...folks that I respect and admire. However, I have MULTIPLE reasons for not going this route and, instead, leaving the level restrictions in place, as is:

1. With regard to levels and racial abilities, the game already functions as written. Why make the effort to "re-balance" humans just in order to "fix" something that already functions?
2. Even if I wanted to make the effort, I don't trust my own ability to balance these restrictions and I observed (in the 3E era) how racial advantages can lead to "optimal builds;" I don't want to risk that and I don't need to because (again) the game already works as written, and I'm not about appeasement.
3. I don't want to "add" anything to humans because I see them as the BASELINE for play. Advantages and disadvantages conferred on nonhumans show how they are exceptional or how they "break" the baseline...how they differ from the baseline. Human ability scores go from 3-18 in every category; humans have access to all classes at the max level obtainable in those classes. Humans start knowing one language; human have normal vision; humans have saves and attacks and armor class as a person of their level and class with baseline abilities.  Humans are the STANDARD...they are the standard of what play would look like if all the nonhumans were to disappear from the game. I do not want to give them a "bonus anything." Humans set the bar...it's a human-centric game...and nonhumans are defined by how they are NOT human.

And WHY is it a human-centric game? Because it is played by humans. Everyone reading my words here (well, except for AI algorithms, I suppose) are humans. The only people to whom the game matters at all (AI really doesn't care about D&D) are humans.

"But I want to be an elf!"  Or whatever. Yes, I know. We play these fantasy games to escape (for a time) from our present reality...RPGs are escapist entertainment by design. But what exactly are you trying to escape from? Where is it that you want to escape to?  I've written before how, as an adventure game, D&D allows us to experience adventures in a way that aren't normally possible and/or particularly safe, convenient, etc. THIS is the type of "escape" D&D provides. The character you play is the vehicle for that escape.

But if what you want to escape from is YOURSELF...if you want to be an "elf" (or whatever) because you really, really, REALLY dislike being a human for some reason...well, that's opening a whole different can of worms with answers (from me) that can range from "play ElfQuest instead" to "seek psychiatric help."

We are humans. We might be old or young or short or tall or fat or skinny or scrawny or brawny or black or white or American or European or gay or straight or WHATEVER. But we are humans. And humans have fears and desires and ambitions and foibles. Humans have good times and bad times; joy and sadness and comfort and stress. Humans have finite life spans and tough choices to make regarding our priorities...playing D&D is NOT going to change that, regardless of whether or not you choose to play a nonhuman creature.

So let's not worry about that...about escaping who we are (since we can't)...and instead focus on what we can do with the game. Which is: experiencing adventure. Risking for reward. Making choices that have consequences that we have to deal with. Trying to succeed (i.e. survive and thrive) within the parameters of the game rules.

"Levels" are a game mechanic that measures both success and character effectiveness. Levels set the parameters, the boundaries, of play in which players must operate. Levels are an objective measure calculated from obtaining objective goals as defined by the game's rules. Levels and leveling ARE the game...if you are sitting in the chair of a player.

Playing a nonhuman will limit your success in the game. And that's okay...in a way, it's playing the game on "easy mode" (especially with the racial advantages your PC receives). "Default" mode is playing with a human character...tougher, but with a lot higher ceiling of success. And all of it measurable because of levels.

I love levels. What a great concept!

K is for Kartha

I missed the April A-Z Blog Challenge this year, so I'm doing my own...in June. This year, I will be posting one post per day discussing my AD&D campaign, for the curious. Since 2020, this is the ONLY campaign I run. Enjoy!

K is for Kartha...the Desert of Kartha. 

"Kartha? I don't see that on my Google Earth!" Yeah, no...you won't. Desert of Kartha is the name I've given to my ongoing project of re-writing TSR's original Desert of Desolation series (adventure modules I3, I4, and I5). Heavily inspired/influenced by the old Marvel Micronauts comics (specifically issues #23-25 and #34-35), I was originally going to call it the "Desert of Karza" (for Baron Karza) but in the end decided to file down the serial numbers somewhat.

As others have discussed, the scale of the Desert of Desolation is pretty small considering its descriptions of being a 'vast wasteland.' However, even a small desert can be tough to cross if you're dealing with the pre-industrial, semi-medieval technology level that is most D&D campaigns. So, I found I didn't need something the size of Saudi Arabia (let alone the Sahara)...I could get by with something quite a bit smaller.

That smaller area? Southern Idaho. 

Famous (infamous) Death Valley is roughly the size of Connecticut.  Google tells me you can fit 17 Connecticuts into Idaho. From Boise (the last patch of "civilization" in northern Idaho) to Pocatello and the Bannock mountain communities, the distance is more than 200 miles on foot...that's a LOT of desert to traverse, even if you have dromedaries. 

But look...I'm pretty busy today, so I'm going to let the good 'ol ChatGPT summarize my notes for you:

Southern Idaho is a land transformed — not the semi-arid farmland of irrigation-fed memory, but a harsh, sunbaked expanse known as the Desert of Kartha. Once a broad volcanic plain carved by the ancient path of the Snake River, it is now a desolate region of cracked lava flats, alkali basins, and slow-drifting dunes. The river itself still exists in places, but it is a skeletal thing — mostly a chain of brackish pools and salt-scarred channels that only rage to life with spring melt from the mountains. Kartha stretches from the ragged basalt shelves east of Boise all the way to the Bannock Range near Pocatello, and from the Owyhee Plateau in the south to the sage-laced edges of the Camas Prairie in the north.

The land is deceptive in its uniformity. On first glance it is flat, shimmering, dead — but travel far and long enough, and the bones of the land show through. Shattered lava fields east of Mountain Home give way to knife-edged canyons around Bliss and Hagerman, where occasional springs burst from canyon walls and feed narrow green ribbons. Farther east, near the ancient flows of the Craters of the Moon, the land buckles and yawns open, pocked with collapsed tubes and deep chimneys that some say lead to caverns filled with poisonous air and stranger things. Near Shoshone, long-sunken aquifers provide a rare permanence of water, and so the town endures — a hub of trade, refuge, and tense diplomacy in the desert heart.

Here in Kartha, the Badawi roam. They are not a single people, but dozens of kin-groups and clans that trace their lineages through oral tradition, inscribed bone tokens, and remembered migrations. They travel in long, low-slung caravans — dromedaries and wiry horses carrying trade goods, tools, water barrels, and kin. The Badawi know where the old wellheads still bubble beneath wind-carved rock. They know which springs have turned to salt and which grow bitter in the summer. They carry obsidian from the old lava beds, sulfur and saltpeter from fumaroles near Carey, silver traded out of the hills near Arco, and strange dark glass scavenged from ancient ruins buried beneath the dunes.

Kartha is not empty. It hums with movement: raiding bands, pilgrims, seasonal migrations, and armed caravans flying clan pennants. Routes are marked by cairns and sun-bleached glyphs. Oasis towns like Richfield, Arco, and Minidoka have become intermittent waystations — part rest stop, part trap. Some Badawi settle for a time in places where the water flows regularly, but they are mocked by their cousins as Hadir-in-disguise, soft-footed and forgetful of the old ways. The greatest insult one Badawi can offer another is to call them “Houseborn.”

Boise, at the western edge of the Kartha, is a frontier city in the mold of Sanctuary — a crumbling Hadir holdout city full of outlanders, deserters, exiles, and opportunists. Stone walls rise from mud and basalt, remnants of an imperial fort that once claimed to guard the desert road. Today, Boise functions more as a free city than a provincial capital — ruled more by the strength of local guilds, caravan companies, and warbands than by any imperial satrap. Agents of the Inland Empire still operate there, but their presence is limited to sealed quarters in the inner district and occasional bureaucratic embassies. Beyond the walls, Badawi come and go, hawking salt, sulfur, and rare desert spices in the market squares.

East of Shoshone, the land rises gradually toward the Bannock Range and the Hadir communities near Pocatello. These mountain settlements have their own character — sturdier, more industrious, more reliant on trade and mineral extraction. Mines in the Portneuf and Bannock highlands supply copper, tin, and iron to imperial forges, while Arco and Blackfoot act as trade nexuses. Caravans from Shoshone arrive weather-beaten and weary, sometimes escorted, sometimes harassed by their own kin-turned-bandits. These caravan routes are lifelines, and also constant battlegrounds of shifting alliances, marriage pacts, and blood feuds.

The weather in Kartha is brutal. Dust storms howl across the flats in spring, burying way-markers and drying out skin in hours. In summer, the ground can burn the soles of a careless traveler’s boots; in winter, ice crusts the sand before dawn. Despite this, the Badawi thrive. They wear garments of tightly-woven wool and desert silk, raise hardy goats and long-haired sheep, and practice forms of knowledge the Hadir dismiss as superstition but which have ensured their survival for generations — wind reading, star navigation, ritual water-scouting, and herbcraft drawn from dry cliffs and ancient wadis. 

The Kartha is not just a desert. It is a boundary — not only between Boise and Pocatello, Hadir and Badawi, or the Empire and its wilderness — but between survival and oblivion. Those who live here learn quickly: everything in Kartha moves, even if you can’t see it. The land itself forgets the names of the weak. Only the strong, the clever, or the silent endure. And sometimes, not even they are enough.

Got all that? The distance from Boise to Shoshone (the latter of which replaces the Oasis of the White Palm in my setting) is roughly 120 miles, some 6-8 days travel by dromedary caravan. The route departs from Boise, skirting the barren Boise Foothills, passes through Kuna Butte and across the Snake River (at a seasonal ford or ruined bridge near Swan Falls), then traverses the high desert plains around Grand Vie, where travelers will find minimal shade and sparse scrub before making camp near the Bruneau Sand Dunes, where a reliable aquifer supports a semi-permanent watering point. From there you cross the Brueau Plateau and descend into the flatlands east of Richfield, where dust storms and basalt ridges challenge navigation, before entering Shoshone from the northeast, approaching across the Big Wood River, where it runs shallow but steady.

From Shoshone to Pocatello (the Eastern Trail) the distance is only 105 miles, but travel time can take 6-9 days depending on elevation and snowfall...early winter snows may close high passes. Caravans depart Shoshone heading northeast to Carey, ascending gently through the Carey Valley, skirting the edge of the Pioneer Mountains to the north and plains to the south. A midway stop near the Craters of the Moon (where deep wells and cave springs make for a vital Badawi gathering site) before continuing east to Arco, a fortified Hadir outpost and caravan staging point. From Arco, caravans travel south over the Lost River desert flats and wind through Atomic City (now ruins, but sometimes used for shelter) before approaching Pocatello via the northern fringe of the Arbon Valley and into the mouth of the Portneuf Range. 

Caravans typically consist of 30-50 dromedaries led by Badawi guides. Banditry is common between Bruneau and Richfield, where cliffs and gullies (especially the Wendell Cliffs) allow ambushes. 

That's probably as much (or, rather, more) information than you need, but I'll mention a few more fantasy tidbits to whet your appetite (possibly) for my (some day) forthcoming adventure trilogy:

The Centauri

Where the lave fields roll into the high sagebrush seppe near Gooding, Jerome, and the Camas Prairie, there you will find the Centauri:  feral, half-mad creatures that view the bipedal races as blights upon the land. Twice as large as a human, their equine bodies are thick with muscle, while their human torsos are adorned with bone talismans, thorn armor, and painted war runes. To the Badawi, the Centauri are an ancient enemy, responsible for countless raids and deaths...but also objects of grim respect. Some tribes leave offerings at border cairns to ward them off. Entire caravan routes detour for weeks to avoid Centauri ranges, especially in spring and autumn when they become migratory and aggressive. Among the Hadir of Boise and Pocatello, sightings of Centauri are often met with terror, but also dark fascination.

The Duergar

Deep below the basalt and ash fields near Craters of the Moon, Minidoka, and Massacre Rocks, the Duergar delve in silence. Twisted, grim, and secretive, these grey dwarves are remnants of an ancient civilization broken by way...or possibly by Kartha himself. Pallid and mutated, their eyes glowing with fey luminescence and theit minds touched with deep-earth madness, they are rarely seen on the surface. Some Badawi have forged careful trading relationships with them, often through intermediaries known as "Ash-Speakers," exchanging surface goods...firewood, leather, alcohol, rare herbs...for gemstones and refined ore. More often, Duergar are blamed for vanishing travelers, collapsed wells, and cursed artifacts. The Hadir mineworkers in the Bannock ranges speak of strange voices and empty tools left polished and rearranged overnight...signs the grey dwarves have passed unseen.

The Shoshone Bird-Riders

The giant desert birds, known as minqar alfas, are a fearsome and awe-inspiring part of life in and around Shoshone. Standing eight feet tall at the shoulder, these sharp-beaed, talon-footed creatures are fiercely intelligent, aggressively territorial, and able to run tirelessly across sand and basalt for days. Though they exist in the wild near the lava plains west of Craters of the Moon, it is only the Badawi of Shoshone that have mastered their training, forging deep bonds with hatchlings and raising them into lethal mounts. The warriors who ride them sever as scouts, caravan guards, and the elite defenders of the oasis.

Shoshone is a jewel set amid desolation. Fed by artesian springs and positioned at the nexus of several old lava tubes, it boasts shaded palm-like trees, stone-built cisterns, and clay-walled homes that cling to its cratered edge. It is the lifeblood of Kartha's trade routes. Every caravan from Boise to Pocatello stops there to rest and barter. Its market hums with dialects from across the desert; Hadir traders from Bannock peddling ore, Badawi selling hides and gems, and even the occasional veiled emissary from the Duergar depths. And overseeing it all, the Shoshone bird-riders patrol in formation, their mounts shrieking as they scan for bandits, Centauri, or worse. 

[I will leave off discussion of the Desert Sage, Coo An-Nah, "The Immense One" for another time]

J is for Jungle

I missed the April A-Z Blog Challenge this year, so I'm doing my own...in June. This year, I will be posting one post per day discussing my AD&D campaign, for the curious. Since 2020, this is the ONLY campaign I run. Enjoy!

J is for Jungle...the jungles of Oregon. Every vanilla fantasy campaign requires a "deep dark jungle" region to hide lost cities and dangerous cannibals and whatnot. For my campaign, that region is Oregon.

Oregon, as part of the Pac Northwest, is a lot like Washington State, except that it's worse in just about every way possible.   

[Haha ! I could enumerate all the ways I prefer my state to our southern neighbors, but suffice is to say that there exists a "friendly" rivalry between our states and you're probably not going to change my (subjective) opinion on the matter. Be content with your Ducks lording it over the Huskies, Oregon readers]

Anyway, there are a LOT of similarities between the two states, but my setting doesn't need a "lesser Washington" south of the Columbia. What I need is some place to put adventures like Dwellers of the Forbidden City...another border area for exploration and adventure that becomes more and more dangerous the farther you leave the (Washington) epicenter of the campaign. 

So, yeah: jungle. Unfortunately, it's pretty difficult to convert Oregonian forest into dense jungle, even with global warming / climate change. Just heating up the world's temperature doesn't make the place wetter...in fact, it causes the eastern part of Oregon to become more arid and prone to drought than it already is. Plus the latitude puts the state too far north to keep it tropical all year round...frost is a thing, and I really don't want to have to tilt my planetary axis.

Instead, after much googling and chatGPTing, I found a way to change the Oregonian climate with the O So Original Idea of dropping California into the ocean (no great loss, there...). Here's how it looks:

A catastrophic tectonic upheaval along the San Andreas Fault fractures California, causing vast swaths of the coastline — including Los Angeles, the Central Valley, and parts of the Sierra Nevada — to collapse below sea level. The Pacific Ocean rushes in, forming a vast inland sea stretching from present-day Redding to the Gulf of California. This new body of water, dubbed the Cascadian Sea, becomes a powerful new thermal engine, radically altering weather and ocean current patterns along the North American west coast.

As a result of this geographic reconfiguration, the cool California Current collapses and is replaced by a redirected branch of the North Equatorial Current, which now flows northeast into the Cascadian Sea and then northward along the Oregon coast. This warm current brings year-round heat and tropical moisture, transforming western Oregon’s environment. With no major topographic changes, existing features like the Coast Range and Willamette Valley trap heat and moisture inland, fostering an explosion of subtropical flora and fauna. Portland, Eugene, and Corvallis become overgrown, half-submerged jungle ruins — overrun by banyan-like trees, giant ferns, and invasive tropical wildlife.

Meanwhile, Washington State remains largely buffered from this transformation. Cold air masses continue to spill in from the North Pacific, and oceanic upwellings help retain a mild, rainy climate. The Columbia River Gorge becomes a dramatic borderland — a shifting, misty zone between Washington's evergreen highlands and Oregon's choking jungle lowlands. Migratory populations fleeing Oregon’s collapse seek refuge in the stable urban centers of Seattle and Spokane, while others adapt to life in the overgrown wetlands below.

The new Oregon is wild, wet, and hazardous — a place of stunning natural regrowth and near-total infrastructure collapse. Trade, travel, and communication require watercraft or jungle-adapted aerial drones. Native species have vanished, replaced by reptiles, amphibians, and tropical insects. What remains of the state is a loose network of river-bound settlements, canopy outposts, and ruins — some inhabited by scavengers, others consumed by the green tide.

Ah, ChatGPT...there are some things you do rather well, including saving me having to use too much brainpower in determining cause and effects and conditional changes on a global scale. Let's see what else you can give me...

In this transformed Oregon, the economy operates as a decentralized network of river-bound settlements and jungle-adapted enclaves, united loosely by a gold- and silver-based coin economy. These coins—recovered from sunken vaults, salvaged urban caches, or newly minted by metallurgist guilds using primitive smelters in ridge-top strongholds—form the backbone of trade. With traditional banking long gone, trust is enforced locally through reputation, alliances, and martial presence. Day-to-day barter remains common for essentials like food, cloth, or tools, but coins offer a crucial medium of exchange between disparate, culturally distinct regions or dealings with foreign merchants—especially those from Washington.

River trade is the lifeline of this economy, with shallow-draft skiffs and sail-powered barges connecting canopy settlements and overgrown ruins. Trade is risky and slow, but essential. Canoes and sailboats laden with dried foodstuffs, jungle-grown fibers, preserved herbal compounds, and reclaimed metalwork drift down swollen rivers, forming the economic veins of Oregon’s drowned interior. Communities specialize by ecological zone—some harvesting rare fungi and resins deep within the jungle, others trading in freshwater fish, insect protein, or exotic fruits adapted from the tropics. Metal goods, especially tools and weaponry, are in high demand and often fabricated from reclaimed urban scrap. The jungle’s rapid overgrowth buries and distorts salvage, so skilled "relikers" and ruin-guides command premium prices for both goods and knowledge. Coastal settlements on the Cascadian Sea act as hubs for trade with surviving territories to the south or the temperate highlands of Washington, though the journey is perilous and coin payments often include hazard premiums.

Inland, the presence of coin allows for the rise of micro-economies and even proto-states, often governed by guilds or protector clans. Some ridge-top strongholds mint their own coinage, sometimes mixed with religious iconography or clan emblems to assert sovereignty. Markets form near ruins, rivers, or at jungle clearings during seasonal festivals, where traders exchange exotic creatures, jungle spices, or relics for coins, favors, and survival gear. Without centralized governance, economic stability relies on dense webs of personal obligation, local codes, and networks of coin-backed trust. In this lush, chaotic Oregon, wealth isn’t just measured in gold—it’s measured in what you can trade, defend, or grow in the shadow of the jungle.

The most stable and high-value trade occurs at the northern border, where Oregon meets Washington across the Bridge of the Gods. The area around the Columbia River Gorge has become a militarized trade chokepoint—a mist-drenched boundary of civilization and wilderness. Here, Oregonian goods like tropical medicinal resins, rare pigments, giant insect chitin, and exotic spices are exchanged for Washington’s manufactured goods, preserved grains, and hardy vegetables. The Washingtonians accept Oregonian coinage in limited forms but prefer tangible trade goods. Caravans from Washington bring salt, steel tools, wool, and lumber, though access is tightly controlled, and tariffs are enforced by Washington border guards and mercenary guilds. Mutual dependency maintains a tense peace, and guild envoys or religious orders often act as go-betweens to enforce contracts and adjudicate disputes.

Well now! A little tweaking, a little editing, and I could turn this into a whole setting book for  Oregon...if I wanted to do that. Which I don't really because...it's Oregon. Also, because there's already a setting book for the Beaver State (Wampus Country is gonzo OD&D, and ain't half bad).

But all I need is a jungle. Which is why I'm content to let AI do my writing and research for me on the subject. To me, the most important thing is that the jungle is THERE (and where I want it). It's just something I like to have on hand when certain types of adventure pop into my brain.

My kids have never been to the
Yucatan...it would be a lot easier to visit 
Palenque if it was in Oregon.

I is for Inland Empire

I missed the April A-Z Blog Challenge this year, so I'm doing my own...in June. This year, I will be posting one post per day discussing my AD&D campaign, for the curious. Since 2020, this is the ONLY campaign I run. Enjoy!

I is for Inland Empire...the real Inland Empire.

Wikipedia has this one wrong...no one up here calls it the "Inland Northwest." We've been referring to Eastern Washington as the Inland Empire since the 1880s...unlike California, who only started using the term in the 20th century. Screw you, California.  *ahem* Anyway...in our real world, the Inland Empire refers to the area stretching between the Cascades and the Rockies and (in my experience) generally considered the area NORTH of the Columbia river (although the Columbia Plateau does extend into northern Oregon, and some consider the region to include the area down to the Blue Mountains). It is a vast, flat area of semi-arid steppes, much of which (most?) has been converted to farmland via the Columbia Basin Project and Grand Coulee Dam. Because of the the CBP (and the rich soil that comes from living in a volcanic region), Washington State is a leading agricultural region, being the United States' leading producers of raspberries, apples, cherries, pears, and hops...among a vast number and variety of other crops. With producing more than 70% of the nation's hops and more than a third of its asparagus, Germany's October- and Sparglefest have nothing on us!

[the United States is the world's largest exporter of hops, and Washington's are highly prized. A very good, very old friend of the family owns and operates an award-winning craft beer company in Mexico, and he imports his hops exclusively from here...though I haven't talked to him lately, and I'm not sure how Trump's economic policies may be affecting him]

All that, however, is the "real world." In my campaign, the Inland Empire is an actual "empire."

Empires (especially the "evil" kind) are a standard trope of fantasy settings...and I am nothing if not a hack beholden to standard tropes (ha!). But seriously, the presence of a traditional, military-type "empire" provides a lot of tools for the DM. Here is a massive entity that stands as a check against the depredations of player character antics.  Here is a place of urban centers ("civilization") where players may buy and sell goods and services, or simply rest without fear of monsters eating them. Here is a place from which the DM may pull schemes and antagonists and intrigue and machinations. Heck, maybe the place even has some sort of 'gladiatorial arena' like the Roman Empire (players dig that kind of thing).

A lot of the D&D game seems built on the assumptions of a post-apocalyptic / post-empire world...and my campaing is NOT different in this regard...but the presence of a currently existing empire plants the seed in players' minds that 'oh, yes, empires rise and fall in this world, and maybe we can build our own.' I like having that possibility out there in the (game) world.

When I was first deciding to create my One And Perpetual Campaign, I knew that I would need (and wanted to have) an "empire" in the game...something to loom over the players and keep them small and shallow when beginning; low-level characters always begin their careers on the outskirts of empire, not within its vast halls. They have to earn their way into the empire (else they become so much chattel/fodder for the imperial machine) learning its systems and politics even as they advanced in the campaign...because very, very few players have any interest in reading campaign "lore" (let alone assimilating it) even if I had an interest in writing a comprehensive treatise on the empire.

[which I didn't]

What I came up with was the Red Empire, something that arose from the name I gave my campaign as a whole: Red Earth...when you see the "red" tag on any of my blog posts, this is what it refers to. Why "Red Earth?" Because my campaign was originally going to be in South America (inspired partly by my time there) and Paraguay is known for its "red earth" (tierra colorada) as are many regions of central South America. "Tierra Colorada" was also the name of our favorite restaurant in Asuncion.

Plus, my plan was also to have a pretty bloody and violent campaign (we're playing D&D, after all), so "Red Earth" seemed appropriate.

However, as already explained, I eventually changed the setting to Washington State which does NOT have Paraguay's vibrant red soil...and, yet, I still wanted to retain my Red Empire, seeing as how my concept of it was already coming together, thanks in no small part to (once again) Bob Pepper's artwork:

Now, while politically speaking Washington is a "blue state," the fact is that it's only "blue" on my side of the Cascades (where 70+% of the population resides). Eastern Washington is a landlocked sea of deep, deep crimson, even in "metropolitan" Spokane...so much so that the idea of breaking off from the rest of Washington and joining up with Idaho has been broached more than a few times. 

Politically, the Inland Empire is a "Red" Empire.

And, so I decided to run with the concept. The Inland Empire (centered around its capital, Red City) is home to the imperial family who, in all honesty, I haven't yet bothered to detail. In my mind, there are some rough similarities to the Thyatian Empire (from the old TSR Gazetteer line) which is, itself, heavily inspired by the Roman Empire. But this is a young empire, one founded some 40-50 years ago by the man known only as "the Red Emperor" in my campaign notes. 

The empire is aggressive, militaristic, and religious in nature, but it is not expansionist...it is not actively seeking to expand its borders (which are extensive) but, rather, build infrastructure and consolidate what it already possesses. If anything it is isolationist...it has its own business that it's worried about, and many of the towns and communities in the outskirts are only nominally a part of the empire. Cities like Yakima, Walla Walla, and the Tric-Cities are de facto city-states, allowed self-governance (and even their own militaries) so long as they don't make waves and contribute a certain amount of "tax" (tribute) to the empire...and some townships (notably Coeur d'Alene in Idaho) can even get away with skimping on that.

The county of Yakima
needs a count.

But I'll write more of those specifics in later posts...probably. The truth is I don't have a lot of specifics to provide. In my campaign, the Inland Empire is simply a looming presence...one the players hear (plenty of) rumors about, but that they try to steer clear of. They know it's not quite a theocracy...but they've been to Yakima, which IS (a theocracy), and which is both a staunch ally and client state. They know the imperial capacity for war is pretty formidable, but that its armies are used to police and protect its own peoples. They know that the miles and miles of farmland they traverse is owned (or in vassalage) to "the Empire."

Mainly, the Inland Empire is just a threat...a kind of anti-McGuffin. "Don't go there, unless you want to get caught up in the Empire." As a Dungeon Master, it serves its purpose of helping direct the players to places I want them to go...a border within the borders of the setting. And, eventually, it will be a place I will want them to go (as ideas for imperial-type adventures and conflicts crop up in my imagination). When I'm ready, when I need it, it will be there for me.

Just not yet.

; )

H is for Humanoids

I missed the April A-Z Blog Challenge this year, so I'm doing my own...in June. This year, I will be posting one post per day discussing my AD&D campaign, for the curious. Since 2020, this is the ONLY campaign I run. Enjoy!

H is for Humanoids...orcs and such.

"Humanoid," when used as a noun, means "a being resembling a human in shape" (the -oid suffix is the "resembling" bit). So, you know, two arms, two legs and a head. An xorn doesn't really fit the bill, nor does any creature that walks on four legs.

And yet there are many creatures in the Monster Manual that resemble the "human shape" as much as an orc or goblin that are not defined as "humanoids." Sea hags, for instance, or yeti. Why not? Doesn't a minotaur have the same number of limbs as a gnoll? 

But if I look to the definition of the adjective form of the word (i.e. to describe a "humanoid creature"), we see a little something extra: "having an appearance or character resembling that of a human." Ah...now that's something to consider.

There are plenty of D&D creatures that have a vague resemblance to the human shape: faeries of all stripes, giants, various aquatic creatures, even animal hybrids like harpies and centaurs. But they lack the character of a human, character being defined as "the mental and moral qualities distinctive to an individual."  Personality-wise, humanoids resemble humans. These other monsters? They don't.  Even if they are sentient, even if they are tool-users, their psychology is alien compared to a human. You cannot use the same line of reasoning with a lizard man or mind flayer that you would to resolve a conflict with a human adversary (humans don't haggle over how many brains we're going to devour).

So, yeah...bullywugs and crabmen? Not humanoids. Neither are the giant-folk (who operate on a scale well outside of human experience) nor the faerie-folk (who are fey and whimsical and often...as with dryads and nymphs...quite alien) nor the various extra-planar/dimensional beings (djinn, devils, night hags, etc.). In fact, there are only EIGHT critters that count as "humanoids" in my setting; they are: bugbears, gnolls, goblins, hobgoblins, kobolds, ogres, ogre magi, and orcs.

These eight species count as humanoid because they resemble humans both in terms of form and character. They are sentient and aware. They possess language and technology. They have social structures, traditions, "laws" they follow (though these are pretty meager with regard to bugbears and ogres). They are mortal and possess lifespans and biological cycles roughly equivalent to humans. They eat the same foods; they want the same things. They share many of the same fears and ambitions. They are reasoning creatures.

Of these eight, orcs are the closest in resemblance to humans; this is why they are available for play as a PC species. As I've written before, I do not have "half-orcs" in my game; the term is us used to describe an orc who has joined (or attempted to join) human society, adventuring with humans and their allies (elves, dwarves, etc.). To normal humans, such individuals are (perhaps mockingly) referred to as "half-orc," acknowledging that while they are definitely not human, they're not quite the same as a member of their own community...and to that orc community, these beings are (often) seen as betrayers of their kin, and the orcish word for such rogues roughly translates as "half-orc," but in terms of being lame or crippled, albeit in spirit.

1st edition orcs. Note: NOT Mexican.

But orcs do not breed with humans...or any other non-orc species. My campaign setting is not the magical hybrid-land of Piers Anthony's Xanth books. Other than the objective data of hit dice and AC and whatnot, I choose to presume the information in the Monster Manual are something akin to field descriptions by an amateur (and somewhat racists/xenophobic) biologist-anthropologist. Similar in nature to the writing of 15th and 16th century European explorers attempting to describe the civilizations they encountered in the Americas and elsewhere. Not factual but, instead, based on subjective impression and misunderstanding due to poor translation and inexperience with different cultures.

[we call such descriptions "racist," because the person doing the writing has a presumption of the superiority of their own race (in this case, I mean the human race, i.e. species). But this racist orientation does not always or necessarily result in poor treatment or relations towards the perceived "lesser" species...but often enough that it's not considered a practical assumption to take; see my previous post on alignment]

Orcs are ubiquitous to my setting; they have small villages and communities on the (Olympic) peninsula, around the Puget Sound, and on the east side of the Cascades, as well as along the Columbia. You will also find them in the region of Okanogan County, near Winthrope

The non-orc humanoids fall into three groups: the ogres, the gnolls, and the goblins. As with the orcs, these all have an antagonistic relationship to humans (hence, the "evil" alignment designation), because they have a long history of competing for the same food supply, resources, and territory of humanity and (especially) the humans' main allies...dwarves and elves...both of whom have a much longer history on the planet of my setting. However, each of these groups (including the orcs) compete with each other as well as the "good races," and should not be seen as any kind of unified "horde" of antagonistic creatures. In fact, it is their lack of unity...in comparison to the human-elf-dwarf alliance...that has led to the humanoids leading a meaner existence, relegated to inhospitable corners of the wilds.

When totaled, the goblins are the most numerous of all the humanoid groups, but their species is divided into four distinct types that have complicated relationships with each other. The basic "goblin" is the standard of their species, but are diminutive, leading to a disadvantage in inter-humanoid warfare. Their warriors, however, are large, fierce, and well-organized...these are the hobgoblins (so called because of their proclivity for hobnailed jackboots)...unfortunately, they are far fewer in number than than the orcs, and (still) smaller in size than both the gnolls and the ogres. The kobolds are despised "runts" driven out of goblin society and forced to live an even meaner and cruder existence in abject squalor...they hate their own (goblin) kind only slightly less than they hate other species. And then the bugbears, true outsiders of the goblin race, these huge hairy, mutants are prone to violence and insanity, and "do not play nice with others;" driven from goblin communities (much like the kobolds) they sometimes form small bands in the wild where they survive via banditry. Many human communities place a bounty on bugbear scalps.

My kobolds are more pale, 
scrawny goblins than the
mailed dog-men of the MM.

Some enclaves of goblins can be found in the (northern) Cascades, but the bulk of their kind congregate in northern Idaho. However, bugbears tend to live in the forested parts of western Washington, while kobolds can be found farther south (near the active volcano of Mount Saint Helens). Goblins do not build boats and are not found on the water.

The ogres are the strongest and most intimidating of the humanoids, but they are also the fewest in number; they have a "society" in only the most loosest of terms. Once, perhaps, this was different, but ogres have been hunted almost to extinction by the other peoples of the setting, and they are now only found in out-of-the-way places, sometimes selling their services to other humanoids as muscle in exchange for food and coin. The ogre magi are exceedingly rare and bear witness to a civilization that "once was," passing on a tradition that most ogres feel unnecessary to the survival of their race. However, there are some among them who dream of of seeing ogre-kind rise to prominence again...perhaps a looming threat on the horizon?

Once we were kings.

The vast majority of remaining ogres hide among the mountains of northern Idaho. 

Finally the gnolls, the hairy mongrels of the humanoid tribes. Gnoll-ish society is perhaps the least understood of all, as they are a nomadic people who refuse to set down roots. They live by raiding and pillaging, and selling their services as mercenaries...generally other humanoids...but have shown a propensity for turning on masters who show signs of weakness, or when offered a more lucrative deal. 

Gnoll society is matriarchal: they have far fewer females than males, and gnoll warriors are expected to earn glory and gold in order to woo the hands of unattached gnoll maidens. Leading warbands and acquiring followers and pillage is in aid of building family structure and having children...it is less about legacy and more about biological imperative. Gnolls respect strength, because strength leads to survival of the tribe...a chieftain cultivates followers by showing that he can be a provider, but a weak leader will be challenged and (if defeated) devoured. The females, for their part, appear just as fickle in their loyalty, for they are pragmatic...their decision making is based on the good of the community. They are also the spiritual leaders (and spell-casters) of the species. The women command; the men obey, and the gnoll king is the mate of the highest-ranking female of the village.

Gnolls are found throughout the peninsula, and on both sides of the Cascades (though on the eastern side, they stay closer to the mountains), as well as along the length of the Columbia (where they will sometimes engage in piracy, but more often ambush travelers who come ashore in vulnerable spaces). Gnolls are also found in bands in northern Idaho, but not in great numbers...they are more prominent farther east (in Montana).  However, their nomadic lifestyle means they can appear anywhere they find easy prey.

All right...that's enough for the day.

G is for Guilds

I missed the April A-Z Blog Challenge this year, so I'm doing my own...in June. This year, I will be posting one post per day discussing my AD&D campaign, for the curious. Since 2020, this is the ONLY campaign I run. Enjoy!

G is for Guilds and Guildmasters...the kind that rule over thieves and assassins.

All right this is going to be a short one, because I don't have much to say on the subject. There's a lot of information available on the "guilds" of the middle ages that a person can research...for several hundred years they were a major part of urban life and the economy of Europe, acting something like a combination of cartel and trade union, and wielding power and influence over the population...even though they were beholden to the local rulers for their official charters.

The idea of a "thieves guild" is generally attributed to Fritz Leiber's Fafhrd & Grey Mouser books, but so far as I'm aware, his stories little describe how such a guild would function. A better reference (perhaps) is the short story Rinconete y Cortadillo written by Cervantes in the early 1600s which details the indoctrination of two young n'er do wells into a thieves guild operating within Seville. Cervantes's guild is small and shabby, its thieves ridiculous in their grandiosity and professed piety, but one can see how such a thing might function in a medieval setting (i.e. during the time of European guilds). The guild is more of a "gang," the hideout something of a clubhouse, and every thief contributing what they steal to the guild with spoils being divvied out based on rank, function, and seniority. Cervantes's guild includes not just theft, but card sharping, prostitution, and revenge beatings (acting as hired thugs for civilians who don't wish to dirty their own hands). Monies collected are used to maintain their hideout and for bribes to their various "benefactors:"

"...the procurator who defends us, the constable who warns us, the executioner who has pity on us, and the man who, when one of us is fleeing down the street with a mob at our heels shouting: 'Thief! Thief! Stop him! Stop him!' stands in the middle of the street and tries to stem the flood of followers, saying: 'Leave the wretch alone for his luck is hard enough!'...the sisters of charity, who by the sweat of their brow help us as well in court as in jail, and the lawyer; for if he be in a good mood, there is no breach of the law which is rated as a crime an no crime which meets much punishment..."

This is not a "tithe 10% to the guild to operate" kind of operation; rather, if you wish to commit crime in the city, you ARE giving your earnings to the guild (all of 'em) and they will take care of you...in many ways Cervantes seems to see such an enterprise much as a monastery or religious institution (the thieves even refer to themselves as "brethren"), doing the work that God has set them to do. 

The number of thieves in Cervantes's guild number about 20 (before the new apprentices join up), with at least one mentioned outsider thief ("The Jew") who's in need of a beating due to not following orders from the guild. Seville, the capital of Andalusia, had an estimated population of 150,000 people in 1600...although this had grown dramatically from about 50,000 just 70 years prior (this population explosion being born of Seville's granted royal monopoly of trade with the Spanish Americas). Cervantes grew up in Seville, his family moving to Madrid in 1566 when the boy was 19. While he returned as an adult (1596-1600), but the Rinconete y Cortadillo novella may well have been written as early as 1590 (when Seville's population was still only 80,000)...his perception when writing the book may well, have been based on his childhood memories.

This matters to me, because I'm interested in how many organized criminals a particular community can support. In my campaign, there is no town of more than 50,000, and only three towns with more than 5,000 (Port Townsend, city of the elves, has less than 4,600). Given Cervantes's figures as rough estimates, only my three largest towns (Seattle, Tacoma, and Spokane) could support anything like a "thieves guild." Which might, by the way, explain why any thief of any degree of skill would seek a life of adventure outside of an urban environment; it would certainly explain all the elven thieves I see running around the setting.

On the other hand, it might be that there are PLENTY of thieves in even moderately sized townships...they just don't fall under the protection/province of any particular "guild" (and, thus, getting caught results in facing the full penalty of the law; another reason for thieves to leave home and adventure elsewhere). 

Suffice is to say that, despite calling themselves "guilds," any such den of thieves is nothing more than a gang operating in a particular territory or area, unsanctioned by the local rulers, and set-up pretty much the same as any hideout built by a 10th level thief (as per the rules in the PHB). All apologies to Leiber, there are no vast networks of organized Mafia types running rackets, just independent operators and their "families" operating outside the law and squabbling with rival gangs that pop up and horn in on their territory.

Now assassins are a different matter: all assassin missions are contractual by nature with set costs based on rank and ability. As such, there must be a wider organization that they operate out of...and, yet, there are far fewer assassins (trained in poison, murder and disguise) than there are thieves. A single "Grandfather" of assassins seems appropriate for a campaign setting of my size, but what about all the 14th level "guildmasters?" The PHB provides specific instructions on assassins guilds, but I'm only inclined to place them in the Big Three (human) cities...which provides good justification for why most demi- and semi-humans in my campaign are limited in the level they may obtain as an assassin. Doesn't really explain orcs, though...unless unlimited orcish advancement is tied to the racial identity of the current Grandfather/Grandmother of Assassins?

Yeah. That sounds about right.

So, rather than multiple guilds there is only ONE "assassins guild" in my campaign, although there are "masters of the guild" (i.e. the 14th level "Guildmaster Assassins") who act as a sort of "section leader" in the major population centers (including Boise, Portlandia, and Vancouver, B.C.), and it is only in these places that contracts can be handed out (and cashed in)...although emissaries from other towns may travel to achieve their services, and independent operators (i.e. the player characters) may be contracted at the standard rates by anyone. 

Unlike the thieves guild, I think that the assassins ARE officially sanctioned by the powers that be. By giving them a measure of autonomy and ability to function, the rulers are able to exert some control over their targets (i.e. preventing them from targeting the rulers themselves). They serve as both a weapon and a means of detente, as the threat of assassination stays every ruler's hand from creating national crises through reciprocal murder vendettas. 

As for the location and identity of the Ruler of All Assassins...well, that remains a mystery at this point. Even to me.