Cauldron Day 4: Falling Back In (Semi-)Good Order

Sunday morning. I woke up, looked at my phone, and saw that it was 9:20am. This was solely by the Grace of God. I had not set an alarm when I went to bed or...if I had...I had somehow slept through it.

It took me a few moments to orient myself, remember where I was, understand what I was looking at.

Uh-oh.

One of the reasons Cauldron runs as well as it does is its fairly strict time table. People are, of course, welcome to let their games run long, but the meals are going to start when they start (and stop serving when they stop). People are welcome to tarry in the dining hall enjoying each other's company, but then they might miss out on joining a session block. There's no pressure, but the train runs as it runs.

Looking at the time, I'd already missed breakfast and I was on the verge of missing the Awards Ceremony, which was scheduled to begin at 9:30am. What's more, it had been made abundantly clear (multiple times) that we had to be completely packed and vacated from our rooms by 9:30 so that the club was not charged extra money...while Cauldron proper ran till 2pm with a final session block in the gaming hall, our quarters needed to be turned out. 

Somehow...adrenaline I suppose...I pulled myself from the bed and hurriedly packed everything in my room into my suitcase and backpack. I had no time to shower or stretch...hell, I didn't even have time to brush my teeth. I don't remember putting on my clothes (perhaps I'd crashed in them) but somehow I ended up fully dressed.

However, there was another reason for my panicked rush: the Awards Ceremony. As the guy in charge of the Blackrazor Tournament Cup, it was my job to tabulate the winners and read the results. Shit, I was supposed to present trophies...I think. I mean, I had expected to get up on time and go over all this with the tournament organizers while sipping my morning coffee. Instead, I'd nearly slept through the thing!

Fortunately, I had been keeping up with the scores as DMs had provided me with them and already had a spreadsheet going (I'd also made myself cheat sheets for quick calculations). I had everything finished and slid my laptop into my pack just as Thomas came by knocking on the doors to get any stragglers out. I was down the stairs and to the dining hall (where everyone was already gathered) just as Settembrini was finishing up the other award categories and introducing the Blackrazor Cup trophies. I heard him say:

"Is he here? Oh, he is! Good...just in time!" 

And then I was on.  Jeez, what an embarrassment!

Staggering my way through the crowd, I was able to recount the scores. This year's participants were, overall, quite successful: six of the eight made it to the end with at least part of their party intact, and five of the groups ended up with scores in the 400K+ range. Oh, and "only" two TPKs...I'd actually expected more (my group had the possibility of a third but...well, we'll get to that!). Overall winner went to the German-language group who really went hard at cleaning out the place. With a grand score of 784,917, they nearly hit the maximum limit of 787,245...and they weren't even satisfied with that (asking "What did we miss?!" even as they were being handed their trophies). Wow, kids...you won, all right?

: )

But while the general mood was celebratory, I was feeling...pretty rough. I'd been handed my morning carafe of decaf coffee, but I had to have two or three shots of "regular" first, just to stay standing. Oh, man. Recovery from being "over-served" is usually one of my stronger traits...but it requires SLEEP for the magic to happen, and the less-than-four hours I'd gotten was not going to cut it. As I mentioned earlier, my intention was to get into Keith Sloan's Forgotten Grottoes of the Sea Lords. Having talked to Keith during dinner (and expressing my difficulty in getting onto the sign-up sheet) he advised me: "Just crash it." Unfortunately, I wasn't in any shape to crash anything. Maybe a car, if I'd been driving.

[too bad, because from what people said afterwards, the Sea Lords game was especially killer]

Instead, I wolfed down some of the leftovers from breakfast (especially the fresh veg) and then made the rounds to look in on the various tables, still gaming hard into Day 4: Attronarch with his giant table, Grutzi with his neverending cheese runs, Andrew (of Britain's Grellcon), Keith, Justin ("the Particularist")...I wandered and sipped coffee, and took photos (which I will not share here) and shook hands and said parting words. Spent some 30-40 minutes outside talking youth soccer strategy with a fellow con-goer (sorry, man...I can't remember your name!); apparently, people read my blog.

I had hoped to bid on one of the special "Cauldron hoodies" that the organizers had worn, but I missed the cutoff the night before (too busy trying to run a game while blind drunk). So I was terribly surprised and pleased when I was gifted with one as a parting gift. 

These people, man.

I took it all the way up till 2pm...mainly because Alex and Grutzi and I had arranged to take Prince back to Frankfurt with us and the game he was playing in went all the way to the end of Cauldron. Before I get to that (not much to say, as I was barely conscious on the car ride), I have a few specific things to say from this last day.

I missed almost the entirety of the awards ceremony, and it was not until much later that I learned which player won the Cup of Demise (Svante) and the Most Valuable Player (Niklas), neither of whom I think I met during the convention. Certainly I don't remember putting their names down on my evaluation sheet, which was the basis for these awards as well as the Best DM trophy, deservedly won by Melan.

Of course, MY votes for these awards didn't count anyway, as I had failed to turn in my evaluation for the tournament (despite being diligent about filling it out)! Getting caught up in the dinner, the auction, the drinking, and the late night gaming, it had completely slipped my mind...although I did give the sheet to head data collator ("Blut Und Glas") sometime after the awards ceremony had been completed. Would my eval have made a difference in the scoring? Possibly. I had different MVPs listed for each of my game sessions (not because I wanted to, just because it worked out that way), so the most that could have occurred, I suppose, would have been a tie, if only one point had separated the eventual winner.

As for "the Best DM:" Blut told me that (as per usual) the criteria had changed yet again this year and that the judging was based on how influential/connected the DM's adventures were to their home campaign (or something like that). Well, my adventures were ALL connected to my home campaign, and most had direct impact on my setting:

Blood on Blizzard Pass: the Master was a potential ally of the Dragon Queen (the PCs discovered papers discussing the proposed alliance). 

Assault on Sky Fortress: the Queen's "doomsday weapon" could be captured or destroyed, impacting the war effort.

Horn of the Eye: the beholder was another potential ally of Tiamat, but because of the players' (successful) subterfuge, bad blood might have been stirred up between the entities.

And even the tournament adventure has an impact the war, since the recovery of the Orb of the Elder Wyrm can shift the balance of power to the Red Empire, while the ending of the elven diaspora in Colville will have profound importance for the allied forces.

The Jewel of Demogorgon adventure was set three years AFTER the war's end, but it is still connected to my campaign (and its background story being connected to the rebuilding of Pullman), but it had no current influence on the campaign as it currently stands. It would have an impact on future Cauldron events, however, as I used it as a precursor to my (eventual) Revenge of Demogorgon adventure. 

So...would any of that have made a difference?

Ha! It honestly doesn't matter; I am quite content with the results. Melan has been showing up and putting in the work (and excellent work it is) for the last four years and he is welcome to feather his cap. In fact, I'm indebted to the guy: he did me a solid by autographing my copy of his Gamemaster's Guidelines that I purchased at this year's Cauldron. Didn't have a chance to crack this beefy tome until I was resting in a secluded cabin in Iceland (ah, Iceland...that's a whole 'nother post), but it's probably worth a review. I'll get to that eventually, I'm sure (yes, plenty of blog fodder here).

I...

I'm starting to wonder if it is still the gaming that draws me to Cauldron. I mean, absolutely the gaming IS the draw...if there was no gaming, or if they decided to run 5E or something, I would stop coming (there ain't enough free beer in the world, people...). But I think the highlight of seeing these people, these special, special people, has become my main impetus to buy a plane ticket to this little gaming convention, halfway around the world.

Seeing Michal ("Bifi") and Sonke and Mike (Sipior) and Prince and Grutz and Setti and Alex and Tamas and Chomy and Iudex and Michele and...well, hell, all of you. Lynch and Eric and Theo and Parti and Philipp and Premier and Toby and Mitch and Fred and Walid and Soren and Schibbi and Butch and Lutz and, and...

You know, I met a LOT of new people this year. Missed seeing some guys like Orlando, but was happy to make the acquaintance of new folks like Joseph and Daniel and Bruno and Steve. And so many lady players this year! It was so great to see so much female participation with Eria and Charlotte and Sabine and Estelle (of course, Estelle...). I'll try not to sound condescending, but I'm used to playing at a table with a member or two of the distaff...women enjoy adventure, too, after all...and this was the most I've seen (or had the chance to play with) at Cauldron in three years. Great to see the womenfolk throwing down with the boys...I love that!

All the faces, old and new: this is what I'm going to miss next year. I knew, going in, that I would not be coming back in 2027. Just far too much on the schedule (school-wise/kid-wise) next October. I knew that it would be two years (at least!) before I'd have a chance to get back to Cauldron. But six 4+ hour sessions of high intensity gaming and three Chainmail battles...well, coupled with my sporadic home games, that should be enough to slake my gaming thirst for a little while. Maybe even for two years, if I can get a little bi-weekly thing going. Maybe.

But not seeing you folks? Any of you? For two years?

Heck, at least in 2024 I was able to share a beer and a burger with Prince in Amsterdam (and what did we talk about? The upcoming Cauldron that I would not be attending that year). Do I need to swing by Budapest in '27 and visit the Magyar horde?

As I said: I'm beginning to feel like the draw of Cauldron is not (first and foremost) the gaming.

*sigh*

Yet more sentimentality...jeez-louise. This is what happens when you're on the backside of 50, kids. You get all mushy about stuff. I'm certainly not talking about GAMES anymore...time to bring today's Cauldron discussion to a close!

Mm. I got nothing.

I've got TWO more posts planned/in the works. One will be about Iceland. The other will be about the tournament module. After that, this blog will be back to business as usual (whatever that means).

I'll leave off with the same words Setti gave me as I left. "You know what you mean to us," he said.

Yes. And I hope you all know what you mean to me.

Later.

One more trinket from
the crafty crafters at Cauldron.

Cauldron Day 3: Battle Fatigue

Serious gaming can take a toll on you, depending on how intense it is. Running the same scenario more than once, or a single long scenario (say six hours instead of three) isn’t the same as running multiple scenarios in which you, as the DM, have to reset, reorient, and refocus to a new premise, a new situation, and new player characters. Doing it over and over again, over multiple days, can be grueling. Usually, at the end of a three-day Cauldron, I’m checking into a hotel and sleeping for 20 hours before boarding a plane back to Seattle. The jet lag, the short turnaround, and the copious amounts of alcohol probably don’t help much.

This year, though, Day 3 wasn’t bringing breakfast, a last session, and a welcome respite. No. I had a whole ‘nother 24 hours of gaming. Got up, showered, dressed, and off to breakfast before my first morning session. Stretching exercises and deep breathing was having less impact and a diminishing rate of return.

Saturday Block I: Horn of the Eye

When I was a kid…and I mean, waaaay back, before I played AD&D proper…I wrote an adventure I called “Labyrinth of the Beholder.” It was a typical, kid-type adventure: a big mess of a maze, with plenty of funhouse monsters sitting in rooms ready to get killed and looted. At the center of the adventure, waiting like Theseus’s minotaur, was a beholder…taken from my first Monster Manual, despite the fact that we were still playing B/X and had yet to realize AD&D was a different thing (we thought “Expert D&D” and “Advanced D&D” were the same, you see?). It was one of the highlight adventures of my early DMing career, meaning it gave both me and my players some memorable stories. As a teenager, I’d tried to recreate it like a 'real AD&D adventure module,' but while I drew the map (I still have the map, actually), my endurance with writing modules was pretty thin in those days. I found a page (along with the map) that had three encounter write-ups (by hand, in pencil)…all pretty terrible. That’s as far as I got.

This year, I decided I’d recreate the thing…as a location in my campaign world. Kind of a Lost Caverns of Tsojcanth if Iggwilv was still kicking around the Prime Plane…and if she were a beholder, getting regular tribute from the locals. Set in the Seven Devils mountain range of (western) Idaho, I wrote it up and playtested the thing back in April with my kids right before Spencer left for his chef job in Japan. It was a great success and, while it ended in a TPK, it actually felt a little soft to me…a full party of eight players, avoiding bone-head mistakes (like purposefully antagonizing a pyrohydra) would probably succeed where my own group had failed miserably.

Or so I thought.

This one’s your typical, “iconic” (sterotyped) subterranean cavern complex, with lava lakes and fungi forests (is there a bottomless pit? I might have left that trope out, but it would definitely fit). Flinds (from the Fiend Folio) are the main minion of the beholder (who has a name, but I’m not going to look it up right now since I’m not wearing my reading glasses as I type this anyway)..he also has a fire giant lieutenant, there are a couple trap rooms, various other minions of a lawful evil bent. There’s a grell in one part which I found to be fairly useless in play-testing…I left it in anyway because, you know, grell.

The party was well-organized and advanced cautiously after descending a couple hundred feet in a lift of brass and iron. Past the stone causeway (wide enough to drive a wagon) over a lake of magma. Surprised the first guard post, murdered the hell out of everybody, then sent the thief ahead into (what turned out to be) the den of a pyrohydra. Uh-oh.

Full retreat not fast enough, party dropped a portcullis on the thing and then butchered it, but the thief player needed a new character (duh). More caution, then started wandering the wing populated by the flind minions. Three more fights and a lot of dead flinds later, they picked up a nice treasure chest and a couple magic items including a ring of fire resistance…handy in a land of lava pools. Good play from the party included ample and strategic use of a scarab on enraging enemies.

Good mapping (yes, Charlotte, the mapping was good) allowed the players to find their way back to the hydra den where they stashed the chest before proceeding back into uncharted territory. Avoided the wing with the fire giant, fortuitously skirted another flind guard post (thus avoiding an alarm) before finding themselves at yet another cavern filled with lava, this one with tall stones of basalt allowing for crossing…in single-file only. Sent the new thief (I think) forward only to have his way barred by four salamanders rising from the lava…no attacks, just questioning, but he didn’t speak salamander and he decided to back off, unmolested. Fighter/magic-user put on the ring of fire resistance and used comprehend languages to converse and understand their speech (even though he couldn’t speak it). Figured out they were asking what tribute the party was bringing to their lord and master and that they’d better have something good or they wouldn’t be allowed to continue.

Magic-user, meanwhile, was turning invisible in order to scout ahead. F/MU came back, gave the MU his ring who then dashed across the columns, unbeknownst to the salamanders (I should note…and I explained this to the players…that hanging out on the path where the temperature of the lava is around 1200 degrees centigrade causes the equivalent of a heat metal spell if you dilly-dally more than one round inside the cavern). Magic-user found a trap down a side passage beyond the cavern…a deadfall that crushed the hell out of him…but he managed to stagger back to his companions for some much needed healing

A bunch of confusion at this point, with a lot of players voting to do different things. The halfling decided to use his oil of etherealness for more hardcore scouting. Fighter/magic-user wanted to fly to the other side of the cavern (over the salamanders heads), while half the party was considering making a sprint to the other side and/or fighting the creatures. The invisible magic-user took the scarab of enraging enemies that they had used to wipe out the larger flind mobs and moved out into the middle of the path, figuring he would use cone of cold (while still invisible) if the scarab didn’t do its job. He had to go to the middle of the path because of the range of the magic item (4")...about halfway out.

[the use of the scarab was not an attack that would end invisibility]

The scarab only worked on one salamander who was promptly dispatched by its comrades. Declaring actions, the cleric decided it was now time to make a mad dash to the other side, while the magic-user declared he was casting cone of cold. The cleric ran into the invisible magic-user (overbearing attacks) and knocked the wizard into the lava while knocking himself down; he was then grabbed by a salamander tail and constricted. The fighter and ranger next raced out to help (in single file), only to be subsequently grabbed as well. Having no resistance to heat, after two rounds of constriction the heated metal of their helmets caused both warriors to succumb to unconsciousness, while the cleric simply died.

The F/MU next cast charm monster on the lead salamander, which was then attacked by its comrades while the dwarf, having already imbibed a potion of speed, shuttled unconscious companions back to the safety of the cavern entrance. The lead salamander slew a companion before being slain himself, and the party was able to polish off the last one with (I believe) the dwarf...the latter having removed his helmet. Unfortunately, he still sustained severe, disabling burns to his body for the rounds of melee he spent in combat with the thing.

In the meantime, the halfling finally went ethereal (the oil not taking effect till three rounds after application), and decided to scout ahead while the party waited for their companions to recover from their heat-induced comas. I tracked the duration of the potion and he spent so long wandering the caverns on the other side that his etherealness eventually wore off…just as he managed to stumble his way into the beholder’s presence. Somehow, with a quick wit and a “00” reaction roll, the halfling was able to convince the beholder that he was an envoy of the dragon queen sent to broker an alliance based on tribute, slaves, and monument erected to the beholder’s greatness. This was deemed sufficient by the Eye Tyrant and the character was allowed to leave, taking the beholder's message of acceptance back to Tiamat. “Don’t get eaten by the [black] pudding on your way out!” it called after him.

He found his way back, explained what happened to the party, and they all decided to get the hell out of Dodge, retrieving their small chest of treasure on the way. A very nice run, in my opinion.

[EDIT: Lutz, aka Der Oger, was my nod for Most Valuable Player]

Saturday Block II: Jewel of Demogorgon

Time for a little more "personal history:" as a child, before I’d ever held or seen a D&D book of any kind, we used to “play D&D” at recess, pretending to be “fighters,” “assassins,” and “magic-users”, arguing over who got to wield “Blackrazor,” and fighting “Demogorgon.” Once I discovered that this D&D game was an honest-to-goodness, real thing...and after I had my own copy of Basic D&D and the Monster Manual and knew what an adventure module was (thanks B2!), I asked my friends (the ones who had first hipped me to this D&D concept) if they knew of any adventure that contained the Prince of Demons. They said, yeah, there was one called something like “Revenge of Demogorgon.” I spent many years looking for this module before deciding it probably didn’t really exist.

For Cauldron, I wanted to run a high-level adventure, and decided that I would craft my own version of this fable…something I probably should have done years before. However, for the life of me I couldn’t come up with any legitimate reason why Demogorgon would want “revenge” on a group of snot-nosed adventurers so, instead, I penned what amounts to a high level "heist" scenario.

As with Sky Fortress, this adventure was only finished in the last few days before I left for Cauldron; it was never play-tested. When I first decided to do it, I had expected it to be the capstone piece for my seven-adventure mini-campaign. I’d also planned on running it in the Saturday Night block where there is no four-hour time limit. Now, however, I had it slated for the afternoon session with the idea that, if it proved to be too long, I could continue to run it after dinner in the Night block…a two-parter, in other words.

First thing’s first: as I sat down at my table after lunch, I was surprised by a player (Theo) passing through asking if I was going to join their game since no one had signed up for my session. What?! This was exceptionally odd, as (to this point) all my tables had been full. What the heck had happened?

I went down to check the sign-up sheet and it was nowhere to be found. Thought that was pretty odd…until a helpful person informed me that session sheets with no takers were simply removed out of the assumption the DM would withdraw their offering.

[later, I had at least one or two people tell me they would have LIKED to play in my game but they felt it was “too high level” and they did not have enough experience playing to feel comfortable. 12th is too high? Sheesh!]

In the end I did have a few players…five or six…who took pity on my empty table and allowed me to run Jewel. I thought the adventure played pretty well, but it was very difficult for the number of players we had…the Abyss is no joke, even for characters in the 12th-14th level range. That being said, it WAS quite long, especially as the premise was tricky to explain, and we had to do some re-calculations of armor class and whatnot due to magic items being less functional on the outer planes. Still: we made it roughly halfway through the adventure, even with a pair of novice players in the group, and when I offered to run it after dinner, they all agreed to come back (except for Ghoul, who was running his own adventure in the Saturday Night block). 

So…I guess not everyone was tired of dying in my games?

Puts hair on your chest.

Final feast/dinner and the annual auction followed, and this was a great time, as always, with much generosity of spirit (and currency) all around. Bidding was fierce, as was the drinking, and my favorite local spirit (a bottle of Rainier Mountain Fresh Gin) was popular enough that I only consumed a third of it myself, the rest being passed around in exchange for palinka, hazelnut liqueur, wine…you know, the usual. I didn’t get any of Estelle’s chartreuse unfortunately (especially disappointing as she ended up at my gaming table afterwards!) but perhaps next year. On to the Night Block!

Saturday Block III: Jewel of Demogorgon (cont.)

I actually ended up with six players at the table after I’d had five (-ish?) at the previous session…just not as many DMs were running games that night (only seven in fact, although one was Bruno’s 23-player OD&D extravaganza) and players were looking for empty seats. I did my big table last year, but I find it tough to run AD&D with the same amount of proficiency and attention I like when there are more than eight participants. Hell, seven is about the perfect amount, but eight gives you extra bodies to slay…you lose one or two PCs from a 6-7 party and the game can quickly go all “death spiral” on you. In my experience.

But, hey, I’m being coy, and I know it. I don’t really want to say anything about my Demogorgon adventure because I actually REALLY like it…and the thing needs some fine-tuning. Despite the map fitting on a single page (unlike most of my dungeons this year), it’s pretty beefy, pretty elaborate. No, the Prince of Demons does not actually make an appearance (unless the players do something very, very wrong) but I really like how I decided to handle the Abyss, and this particular layer. Also, the scenario itself...breaking into a Demon Prince’s stronghold while he’s away, hoping to loot his “Hoard of Spite” without getting caught...is a good one. Spoiler Alert: the players did not find the Hoard (although they got all the way to Demo's audience chamber: a heroic feat in and of itself) but, even if they had, I don’t know if the juice would have been worth the squeeze. As I said, the adventure needs fine-tuning. It was a really ambitious design and I needed more time with it than what I actually took.

Saturday night, I called the game at what I thought was a pretty decent stopping point, but there hadn’t been enough treasure (by my standards) up till that point (I’ll work on it). Plus, let’s be honest: I was pretty hammered by the time we were finishing up, and it had to be after 3am (or 4). I packed my bags, found Prince and Soren embroiled in their usual, last night political discussion, and got into it with them, continuing well into the wee hours of the morning in our usual, jovial fashion. 

And I mean…wow. For once I saw the backside of Prince staggering away (he’s usually the last man standing at these events). But then I looked at my watch and saw the local time was 5:40am, I realized I might have made a BAD mistake. I headed off to bed, in as straight a line as I could walk. 

Not very straight.

[Jewel of Demogorgon may well may make another appearance at a future Cauldron; if it does, it will be in an updated and upgraded format]

[oh, and one last MVP nod...Walid, sometimes called "the Cruel," was my nomination for this round, with his good use of a robe of scintillating colors helping the party immensely]

Cauldron Day 2: Major Combat Operations

Friday morning, I was awakened by my alarm. Brushed my teeth, showered, downed a ketones supplement I’d brought along to deal with jet lag (not sure it helped…my first time trying it), did some morning stretches, and went outside to breathe deeply of the cool, moist, German air. Truth be told, I was finally feeling like THIS IS CAULDRON…excitement high, but adrenaline in check.

It was just about then that I thought, “Oh my God, this is only Day 2.” There would be another full day before the closing ceremonies on Sunday.

Grabbed some breakfast, took my morning coffee. First carafe of decaf placed into my hands. Placed that at my table (back in the Oak room this year), then back to my quarters to fetch my kit for the morning’s session. Coming back, the queue to sign up for games was already humongous. Better them than me, I thought (forgetting I’d be doing the same later that day). Up to my table and waited for the first group of players.

Friday Block I: Blackrazor Tournament Cup

Once again, I wrote a tournament scenario for Cauldron, a duty and honor that I’ve come to take seriously (although it is a plenty enjoyable pastime). I’m going to discuss the writing of the thing in detail in a separate post (to be published at the end of this series) which may or may not help make more sense of the following:

A good cast of players sat down…the full eight (the max number per the scenario rules). Prince of Nothing was present, do doubt trying to acquit himself from the sheer humiliation of last year’s fiasco (not that they did BAD per se, but it’s never good when you cause the DM to break down in tear-streaked laughter…at your expense). This time the play was…well, it got off to a rough start, in fact prompting the group to do the equivalent of a “hard reset,” retreating back OUTSIDE the parameters of the scenario in order to heal and collect themselves before pressing on.

While this could have proved disastrous in terms of scoring (due to the tournament time limits) they found their footing and made it all the way to the end succeeding, more or less, as best they could. A very good score indeed, and one that all the players could be proud of. By this point, I’d already received word from DMs running the scenario that TPKs were indeed a possibility (two had occurred). But admirable work, Ken being pretty great as the more-or-less take charge leader (despite having “never played an actual 1E bard before”) and Sabine being my nod as “player of the match;” without her, the TPK would definitely have been in play at my table.

My future post on the tournament will discuss the adventure in detail with spoilers and all that jazz.

We adjourned to lunch (delicious as usual), where DM discussions were had about the appropriateness of rulings with regard to shambling mounds and rings of free action. Guess what: everyone was on my side, so suck it, Prince.

; )

Friday Block II: Assault On Sky Fortress

Hoo-boy. An un-tested adventure getting its first run at Cauldron. Would it even fit into a four-hour time slot?

As I have detailed (many, many times) in the past, I have a love/hate relationship with DragonLance. As a series of novels, it is “o.k.” (for pulp, D&D-based fantasy of a cheap variety). As a series of adventure modules, it has some decent ideas, but the execution of its ideas are often lacking. And THAT, my friends, is being generous.

The module cover art, however, can be particularly inspiring…even when it has zero to do with the adventure found inside said cover. DL4 is one such adventure, showing a band of heroes on horseback fleeing before a flying citadel…one of the “doomsday weapons” supporting the armies of the Queen of Darkness.

My adventure uses this cool
cover art. The module? Not so much.

Except, of course, that’s not what you get in DL4. Instead, you go into the depths a dwarven mine/kingdom looking for a “floating tomb,” its map based on said portrait, in order to locate an ancient dwarven artifact weapon (the Hammer of Kharas) that, rather than retain, you turn over to the dwarves in exchange for letting some human refugees ride out the winter in a subterranean cave. Typical Hickman BS goody-good story-crap. And it’s BAD, too. The “dungeon”…the tomb…has all of ONE monster in it: a mischievous gold dragon who just f’s with the PCs while they dink around with non-fatal “traps” and basically risk no danger besides silly humiliations. It’s a token adventure designed to waste the time of real humans (i.e. the players) by forcing them to jump through hoops in aid of “telling a good story.”

[please note: none of this adventure is present in the novels…it is simply side-barred (“oh, we did this”)…probably because it’s so damn stupid]

I don’t like stupid. So I took the maps from DL4, re-drew them, and made it into an ACTUAL flying fortress, filled with soldiers (duergar and ogres, mostly) being used in my own campaign world’s “Dragon Queen War.” It’s fucking-A solid…powered by a ‘soul furnace’ that drains the lifeforce of captive slaves for fuel, featuring duergar cleric-assassin clergy, armed to the teeth with ballistae and catapults, piloted by a “Sky Witch,” and (of course) oodles of treasure.

But it’s big…about four levels all told. From the drop bay and cargo holds stacked with loot, up through the barracks level, outdoor gatehouses filled with ogres, crennelated overlooks with siege weapons, harpy roosts (for shock troops) and an adult blue dragon sitting up on the topmost “walk” (and guarding the Sky Captain’s chair)…I mean, it is decent, solid D&D, and it was the LAST thing I finished writing as I was overcoming my illness. Had it all finished up by Monday night, and scanned the maps on Tuesday. It was one of the adventures I’d planned to have my son play in (for the first time) at the con.

In a campaign setting (where I would normally use it…PCs looking for trouble and treasure in the war ravaged lands along the Washington/Idaho border), I would have given players great leeway to figure out how they would get onto the damn thing. We don’t have that kind of luxury of time in a convention setting. Instead, the adventure would begin in media res, the PCs having managed to hijack the lift from the drop bay and putting them already aboard, in the bowels of the Sky Fortress. Their main advantage would be the element of surprise: all the Castle’s forces were focused OUTWARDS, looking for exterior threats (flyers, etc.) or keeping a watch for the next village/town to pillage/raid. So long as the PCs could stay hidden (or kill whoever they came across), they would have a fairly large amount of freedom to explore the place

Unfortunately…

There’s this thing with players (often) where they feel that to “win” a dungeon they need to eliminate every threat on the board, rather than focus on the important and/or prime targets. Three encounters in, they took a captive…a none-too-sane duergar…who more or less gave them all the info they needed. How the thing was piloted. Where they could find the pilot. How they could get to the pilot, etc. But then they went about attempting to eliminate ever watch post on the lower level. And they ended up letting a duergar escape.

[not too hard when one considers duergar have the ability to use psionic invisibility and reduction, and while the PCs were high enough level that the low-level dwarves couldn't blind them, the guy that escaped was a 4th level sergeant-type]

At which point they then started moving slowly. Cautiously. A step-by-step approach to exploration. Whereas the dwarf was traveling as fast as he could to alert the various (four) levels of the castle. By the time the party got to the top of the main thru-way tower (that connected all four levels) and sent the thief up by himself (in order to die? I guess…because that’s what happened), the jig was all but up. They avenged the thief with a necklace of missiles, sent their zombie hit squad (animated from dead dwarves) up to finish the job, then exited the tower only to find two ranks of dwarves and ogres (along with a large ballista) trained on them. They would have found similar strong points set up on three of the four castle levels.

Now in pure crisis mode, the party started getting creative. Holed up in the tower, they set glyphs of warding and invited an ambush of their own for the inevitable assault squad that came to batter down the door. All good, and fire and blood was soon flowing. However, rather than pursue the survivors in flight, they pulled up short and started setting even LARGER wards on the surface level march (check the casting time in the PHB for details, considering a 20'x20' square area) thinking they could work the same trick instead. Which gave time for the blue dragon to come into play. Uh-oh.

Some characters ran; others attempted to stay and fight…everyone was focused on the looming blue threat in the air. Which allowed the “Sky Witch” to hit several PCs with a fireball, at which point it officially became a route. A quick illusion from the magic-user fooled the dragon into believing the catapults were firing of their own volition (at it) forcing the beast to re-position and buying the remaining party members valuable time, but it was all over save for the shooting. I suppose I could have brought dwarf reinforcements up from below (rallied by the castellan) and sandwiched them; instead I figured the duergar would take it cautious, giving the PCs time to escape…if they wanted. Those with potions of levitation and whatnot took the hint and vacated the Sky Fortress, survival (at least) being accomplished.

[Michael Sipior was my "man of the match" for this session]

[EDIT: I have just been informed that I actually nominated Chomy for my most valuable contributor; odd, when I specifically sought out Michael at dinner to get his last name! Both players played well, and an honorable mention to Iudex for keeping cool-headed (and sneaky) in the face of bad odds]

Time for dinner. Suckling pig falling off the bone was the highlight of Friday. By the time I’d cleaned up my gear upstairs there was precious little left…still, people allowed me a chance to eat and I did and it was delicious. A worthy feast…as always...and wonderful to break bread with the delightful humans who attend Cauldron.

Drawback though: I was last in line for registering for a night game. Already booked was Settembrini’s high level Army of Madness game; so, too, was gone The Sunken Redoubt of the Serpentine Lich (Ignatius Umlaut), For a Fistful of Scrolls (Der Ogre), and even the OD&D game Slug House (Daniel Hertz)…and I couldn’t play in my own tournament adventure (sorry, Grutz), nor was I going to do Sonke’s adventure that he was running in German.

However, there WAS one spot open on a little scenario I’d been considering: Ghoul’s naval Chainmail battle. Boats. We were doing war-gaming again, but this time it would be boats.

Friday Block III: The Hermetian Crusade Naval Wargame

I’ve had a “thing” for war galleys ever since I read the naval warfare rules (Chapter 9) in my Cook/Marsh Expert rulebook, circa 1982. I used to run my own naval battles, just to see how the thing worked…perhaps because I’ve had a lifelong fascination with galley slaves and ship-to-ship catapults and ramming/boarding actions. I don’t know. Too many imported Italian “B” movies as a kid. I never used the naval rules when I ran AD&D in my youth, finding all the stuff about wind and tacking far too beyond my adolescent brain (and finding too many other things in AD&D that entertained), but when I acquired my first copy of OD&D (circa ‘87 or ’88) I again dove into the world of solo play with pirates and flaming pitch and grappling hooks.

Ghoul would seem to share my obsession…however, he’s gone ahead and adapted the AD&D system to Chainmail, specifically with regard to naval rules (there aren’t any in Chainmail, by the way), to make a fun, playable system based on the Germans’ “Sarissa” compilation. It’s good and it’s fun and we had a blast.

The scenario pitted two teams of four players against each other. I was teamed on the evil side this time (huzzah!) playing a turncoat pirate with a large galley (beefy, filled to the brim with marines, and sporting two heavy catapults) in the service of some necromancer or other. Most of the players got two ships…I only had one; however, I was also allowed to play a mercenary BLUE DRAGON hired by the necromancer to bolster his forces. Huh-freaking-zah!

Each of us also received “secret orders;” extra victory conditions we could achieve if we played our cards right. For the dragon, he was told he needed to sink at least one good guy ship to fulfill his contract. My pirate, on the other hand, had the “victory” condition that, if he got within 2” of a good guy ship without any of his bad guys around him, he’d switch sides! What the hell?!

I asked the ref, Ghoul, is our objective here to fulfill our secret victory conditions OR was it to win the battle. He said, “Well, everyone wants to end up on the winning side at the end.” Oh boy. I decided I was going to do my best to NOT shift sides, and simply win this thing for my own team…or die trying. Plus, I was tired of playing good guys and getting my ass handed to me (see the prior day’s Chainmail events).

Unfortunately, I was now several beers in (aren't I always?) and my teammates were getting all lily-livered on me. They were conversing all this strategy about setting up a blockade or horizontal maneuver or…I don’t know, something…that basically amounted to hang-back-and-let-the-enemy-come-to-us. Which is not my modus operandi. I am an impatient, full steam ahead kind of guy. When I play WH40K, I play Khorne. And I play ALL Khorne...I don’t pussy-foot around.

Plus, I had a serious advantage with my units. First off, the dragon was a beast (no pun intended) with super good speed, a three-use breath weapon that could be devastating, and the ability to break the morale of any ship within 10” of him. And my big ol’ galley had two heavy catapults with a HUGE range of 24” that (per Ghoul's rules) was NOT measured until after distances were declared. In other words: eyeball the distance and call your shot. Not the easiest thing, right?

Except I’m an American, and I loves me my inches.

We started. Secretly, each captain declared how much whip they were giving to the galley slaves to see the number of 3” moves their ships could travel. My compatriots started out conservative, with a pair of moves each. I declared my galley was double-timing it at max speed and jumped out to a big lead. My teammates looked at me oddly, but didn’t say much more than mumble. The dragon followed along at the same pace, since it could move 12” per round.

Next round, same thing: everyone goes conservative; I start outdistancing everyone. There is now some visible panic in the ranks; my teammates are coming up to me individually and asking “Um, do you remember the plan?” and “What’s up here, dude?” I tell them to just trust me, I know what I’m doing, consolidate the fleet on the right flank (I was on the left). They think I’m friggin’ out of my mind or (more likely) drunk and looking for an early exit to bed.

Actually, I found out later that this whole battle was part of their on-going campaign and several of the players on my side KNEW my captain was a turn-coat and might betray them and they strongly suspected this was exactly what I was doing. Seems they didn’t trust me any farther then they could throw me. Ah, well.

Next turn, I eyeballed the distance and went to half oar. The enemy flagship came right within my max range and I launched the first heavy catapult during the artillery face…square onto his main deck. Everyone cheered my excellent shooting as I took their leader down to half his hull points, positioning my dragon for the coup de grace in the next round. Meanwhile, the good guys had brought most of their fleet over to towards my side (hoping to sink me without any of my allies around to help me out), leaving a quarter of their fleet to the mercy of three-quarters of ours…and MOST of the ships that were threatening me didn’t have the range to pepper me with their catapults. I could steer backwards at the same rate as I’d gone forward, firing as I went, and staying out of range. I had full confidence I would sink the opposing flagship in the next turn.

Ah, well. The best laid plans and yadda-yadda….

The captain of the flagship was Keith Sloan, an old Navy man and an American himself. His shooting was just as accurate as mine (or nearly so) and he damaged me with his heavy catapult as well. He also had a wizard aboard that summoned an elemental, locking my dragon in combat…I would not be able to fire on his ship until I dealt with the evil spirit! Even worse, however, was my own bungling…I reversed oar, and counted their advance, but when we got to the firing part of the next turn’s sequence, I SECOND GUESSED MYSELF. Not more than two seconds before we were to declare ranges for catapult fire, I scratched off “22” and wrote “23” inches for distance (I was firing my aft heavy). I over-shot Keith’s flagship by a half inch. What’s more, I thought his flagship had the same armament as myself…not so. He had THREE additional heavies he could fire to my one. Two shots hit and my pirate galley went down to Davy Jones’ locker.

I was pissed. At myself. And, to be honest, I felt like a bum. Hubris, pure and simple, led me to act in my usual impetuous fashion, and now my teammates were without one of their capital ships. I attempted to quit the game for bed right there, but they pointed out I could still play the dragon, which seemed a small consolation at that point (yet another reason I hadn't wanted to switch sides...I would have lost control of the dragon). With Big Blue locked up, I felt like I’d just cost my team a quarter of their forces. Plus, the good guys hit the board with some sort of sacred narwhale monster that was now engaging the rest of the fleet…bad news all around!

I grabbed another bottle to go with the glass from the keg upstairs (at this point I was drinking beer like water) and settled in to finish as long as I could stand. Fortunately, my teammates pulled my fat out of the fire by counter-spelling the elemental and freeing up the dragon. I returned the favor by zooming over the massed ships of the enemy and breaking morale on all but one of them, including the flagship. Suddenly, my wretched humiliation had the smell of victory! Without morale, the ships were essentially useless: unable to row, unable to fire artillery, unable to fight in boarding actions. The hero aboard one ship continued to fire arrows at Big Blue, but his aim was wretched, and I went about setting fire to helpless ships. Meanwhile, the necromancer’s fleet had slain the Last Unicorn….erm Holy Narwhale…and sent a cloudkill spell to drift across the sea at the helpless, fear-wracked ships of the Goody-Goods!

At this point, success was completely assured…so much so that my teammates were already counting the money they’d received (in their campaign) for the captured ships of the Hermetians. In a fit of delightful spite, Keith took his hero’s ship (the flagship had already been sunk), and rammed it into one of the morale-crushed ships, refusing to withdraw his ram and, thus, scuttling both rather than leaving them as loot. I wanted to burn down the last remaining ship with my dragon (in order to fulfill his “secret victory” condition), but the referee informed us that our triumph was indeed complete and that we could officially end the battle. I was also told that this was NOT a good outcome for their campaign and would have serious repercussions for some players. Um…sorry?

I headed to bed, content that I'd done enough damage for one day.

Cauldron Day 1: First Salvos & Enemy Contact

Some people use the first day of Cauldron to start slow, to rest (from travel pains) before easing into the maelstrom of gaming. Remaking the acquaintance of old friends, catching up, relaxing with a beer or tea, etc…these are all valid ways to approach a convention that can test one’s endurance over the normal three-day span, let alone the four days that was this year’s Cauldron.

But I’m an idiot who loves trouble. I go hard from the get-go.

Thursday Block One: Blood on Blizzard Pass

One of these days, I’ll get my shit together and have my own sign-up list so that I can make note of all the players names, perhaps take a picture of their faces so that I can remember everyone by the end of this con. As it is, my memory is a tad hazy when it comes to Day 1. Please forgive.

Module M1: Blizzard Pass is an old TSR solo module that I’ve owned since I was a kid of age 9 or 10. Long ago, I lost the “special pen” that allowed me to decode the 'invisible text' boxes, designed to allow solo play, having never actually “solved” or “won” the adventure, despite (probably) cheating when it came to dice rolls. However, I’ve kept it all these years because A) I’m a nostalgic packrat that tends to keep everything, AND (more importantly) B) it includes a standard “group dungeon” in the back based on the solo dungeon that is the bulk of the module. The group adventure is a single level of eleven encounters and it’s just about perfect for an introductory, low-level (suggested 2nd-3rd level PCs) adventure. I’ve run it four or five times over the years, always with good success.

But I’ve never run it for AD&D.

Now, I realize there are some who’ll say B/X and AD&D are similar enough that adventures for one are (largely) interchangeable with the other. I do not share that opinion. Despite their similarities, they function differently and have their own cadence and rhythm to them, because of the specifics of their systems. You can play an AD&D adventure using the B/X system, but you will end up cutting out a lot of the “AD&D-isms” that make the game what it is. I find the experience flat (to say the least); meanwhile, running a B/X adventure in AD&D is nearly always a cakewalk, because AD&D PCs are so much more robust than their B/X counterparts. What seems like an “appropriate challenge” for PCs of a certain level simply isn’t…and you will end up modifying on-the-fly (or letting players walk all over your dungeon) if you play the thing straight. Not really a good time.

So, I needed to modify the adventure for AD&D. Removed were the hypnotic-eye “rock toads” of the frozen cavern…in their place were man-eating ice toads from the Monster Manual. Likewise the half-starved “white apes” held in the Master’s cage were replaced with a half-starved brown bear…far more appropriate considering the adventure is set in the Blue Mountains of southeastern Washington. Finally, in addition to updating the human NPCs (evil clerics and fighters) to AD&D versions of equivalent level, the Master’s pet and “escape guard” (a giant shrew) had to be removed, for multiple reasons: it doesn’t appear in AD&D, it’s a little over-powered, it doesn’t really “make sense” in terms of the scenario/environment. In its place, I put a pair of ghouls, whom the Master could easily control by dint of his evil ambiance. Treasure was already about right, fortunately.

Good starter adventure.

Originally, this was to be the “opening salvo” of my mini-campaign…something to start the 3rd levels off with in hopes of getting them up to 4th. Later, when I shortened my program to just the five sessions, I kept this one in because my son is well familiar with it (he played it in his younger years, and has run it for his friends, in the B/X version), and running it in the first slot would give him an opportunity to sleep and recover from flight, while I got into my groove. Now, however…well, at least I picked something easy to run.

The premise of the scenario is simple as simple can be. Players are your typical mercenaries heading east out of Walla Walla into the sketchier towns that border the Idaho Deathlands, looking for work and profit in the midst of the Dragon Queen War (my re-tooled, sandbox version of Dragon Lance). Crossing the Blue Mountain range, they are separated from their caravan during a sudden snow storm, only to find them again (after the storm has passed) completely wiped out by bandits. Players track the bandits back to their lair; hilarity ensues.

Very good play from the players…at first. In each session, the DM was supposed to nominate one player as the person who had “done the most to help the group succeed." I cannot remember who I nominated for this first one. Maybe Butch? Or, more probably, the dude playing the party cleric (and I honestly can’t remember who that was). Ah, well…it was a long convention.

[EDIT: Michael ("Schibbi") was the player I nominated]

Anyway. They were able to completely surprise the ogre who guards the entrance to the bandits’ cave lair. Ogre can be tricked (I’ve also seen him charmed to good effect in B/X…that doesn’t work in AD&D). In this case, they simply cast silence 15’ radius on him and that murdered the hell out of the guy. Into the cave they went, where they encountered a handful of armed men and a cage full of trained wolves.

Combat ensued. The wolf cage was opened, but the cleric held it at bay using speak with animal (one of the more useful spells in the low-level cleric repertoire). That kept the wolves at bay until they finished off the men (keeping one as a hostage), and negotiated with the wolves to leave them in peace. Easy-peasy.

The captive spilled his guts but was in mortal fear of “the Master” who (to be clear) is a pretty dastardly fellow, feeding people to his pet ghouls and whatnot. The prisoner did not reveal this (or anything else) about the Master, but did give up the numbers of the bandits and where they might be located and what was beyond (goblins and such). However, before the party could get on with the murdering, the party’s elf managed to locate a secret door “just in passing” (oh, AD&D!), and the players decided better murdering might lurk beyond.

Although the killing would be on the other foot.

The module indicates that the Master, upon hearing battle out in the main room, will prepare an ambush for the players, along with his ogre bodyguard. Uh-oh. So it was the players sneaked into an area (well, the thief was sneaking) that had already been rigged with its own silence 15’ radius spell.

The thief was partially surprised and immediately bludgeoned to death by a clubbing from the ogre. As I said, hilarity ensued. PCs rushed through the door and engaged the ogre. Spell-casters attempted spells only to find they had no line of sight and/or they were in the silenced area. Meanwhile, the Master used hold person to good effect. More PCs downed, including the ranger if I remember aright.

However, the party was large (I maxed my tables at eight and we indeed had a full table), and they were able to push through. His bodyguard felled and himself wounded, the Master pulled two levers: one opening an “escape (trap) door,” the other opening the cage to the half-starved bear who will attack good guy and bad guy alike. Pretty sure it mauled the cleric dead, but again this was many days ago. However, we had a second cleric with speak animal, who stepped up and convinced the bear into not killing them and only eating the corpses. The bear had no interest in the dead ogre meat (“Smells bad”) but they sweetened the pot by adding the captive bandit to the mix and Mr. Bear agreed. Who says you have to fight everything to the death?

They then investigated the escape tunnel. “Better send the (other) thief down first.” Good idea. Thief was surprised, hit about six times by the ghouls lurking in the escape tunnel and torn to shreds. “Oh crap…he’s the PC who’s been carrying all the treasure we’ve found so far!” A hair-brained plan to retrieve the thief’s body was concocted, with the cleric and fighter being lowered via ropes. Initiative was won, the ghouls were turned, and the money retrieved.

Dinner at this point being ready (the first session was a short, three-hour session) we called the game there. Good warm up. Dinner was good, and also two hours long. I ate well, then went and had a nap. I could only sleep about 15-20 minutes. Damn jet lag.

Thursday Block II: Chainmail European Championship

Sixteen players in eight teams had pre-registered for what was being billed as the first Chainmail World Cup. As the USA in soccer's first World Cup (in Uruguay) I was proud to represent my country…also (like the USA) I doubted I would ever again see a top 8 finish once the WC expanded to more than eight teams.

Pairings, assigned scenarios, and sides/forces were all assigned randomly. We would be playing by “Swiss” tournament rules (double elimination, basically). I, of course, drew the most brutal draw possible (hello, Argentina!).

Eria is Settembrini’s wife. During the convention, she appears to spend the majority of time running and organizing the volunteers that make Cauldron function. Despite the stress of making such a complicated thing happen behind the scenes, I never see her terribly flustered, upset, or agitated. Maybe she is just German and registers the stress differently from us melodramatic Americans? I don’t know…I find her exceptionally kind, warm, and generous. She it is who brought me my decaf coffee the first day (she delegated this duty to others the rest of Cauldron). Her children are exceptionally helpful and well-behaved and she and Setti seem to have their shit down as far as being a family/team.

She would be my first opponent, along with her elder son Johannes ("Valez"). The kid, about 18 years of age, is a chip off the old block. He runs con games (in German), probably the youngest of the Dungeon Masters. Last year, he was awarded the Most Valuable Player trophy by the other convention-goers. He has obviously inherited his father’s passion for wargaming, and took everything very seriously. Eria, on the other hand, is credited with having play-tested every single scenario. My understanding is that each was run many times before the convention, ironing out the kinks.

Did I mention that Setti kind of spear-heads the whole “Chainmail revival” thing? And that he has re-written and codified the rules (in two volume form) along wih LKH, Ghoul, and Dreadlord (Mitch)? Uh-huh.

Plus, I’m staring across the gaming table at one of the sweetest, kindest people at the con…the organizer’s wife! Was I supposed to throw this thing?

Of course not: they were demons on the battlefield. Also, the scenario would not be helpful.

Omphalos of the Frog God 

Background: After the victory over adventurers trying to disturb the cloister of the frog-god, Frogmen are on the rise in the area between Badwall and Elredd. An ancient sacred site in the swamps near Silvash is within reach of the growing croaker influence. Elves of the forest and High Elves have answered the call by the local druid responsible for guarding the omphalos on the hill in the moor.

I was selected to play the elves…who had neither magic arrows, nor magic armor/weapons to their name, and who would not be allowed to charge in the swamp; also, the elves would be unable to use invisibility in the scenario due to the presence of frogman “witch doctors.” I did have a druidic shambling mound on my side and an elven hero (“Lady Aurelia”). Against me was arrayed four packs of frogmen and bullywugs, who were allowed to travel within the multiple crossing rivers at 15” movement and who could operate in loose formation (no facing/formation penalties) and who could not be shot with arrows while in the water. In addition, they had the aforementioned witch docs, and a six-figure “Marsh Medusa” archer squad who could out-range all my archers, had no problem charging (like the frogmen), AND petrified creatures that got into melee with them. Also, a hybrid frog-human champion armed with both a magic weapon AND magic armor. All within a 90 minute time limit.

Uh-huh. No problems here.

It was a near thing, but I got my ass handed to me. In the end, my only play was to attempt the secondary victory conditions of destroying the frog shamans (this would enable the elves to gain their invisibility back and secure them an automatic win). And I might have done it, too, but time ran out before I could get into melee combat with them (had to lure them in first and then had to change my formation to get off a damn cliff face). It did not help that while my worthy opponents were exceptionally knowledgeable about the game play (and immensely helped novice me), they dithered terribly when it came to taking their turn, using up valuable clock time that I would have liked to have had. As it was, we finished near 11pm, it was a good game, and I was ready to call it a night, proud that I had managed to stay on my feet (and conscious) throughout the entire game despite drinking six or seven beers during the game.

No such doing. We had to go to Round 2 and the “loser’s bracket.”

This next bit is hazy as I can’t even recall who the hell I played [EDIT: it was Sean and Ollie). But I’ve got the scenario right here; it was a similar “capture the object” objective and this time I’d be playing...the virtuous defenders. Why did they keep making me play the good guys?

Queen Scorpion and the Obelisks of Mana

Near the Oasis of the 8th Medusa, Anubis jackal-men guard the ancient Obelisks of Mana near one of the world’s omphaloi. The evil sorcerer Saublin has crossed the desert with his army of Hobgoblins to conquer this place of eldritch power.

Right. Your basic “hold the line” scenario, except I’d be playing two-fisted jackal men with axes and Khopesh swords in a semi-Egyptian looking desert setting against hobgoblins.

So. Many. Hobgoblins.

I’ll cut to the chase: I lost. To a man. “Queen Scorpion” (an actual giant scorpion, something akin to a demigod) was the last, um, “man” standing. But I just couldn’t kill enough of my enemy. Sean (yes, I now remember my opponent…the “Fight On” team out of Detroit, led by none other than Ignatius Umlaut, himelf) poured his heaps of hobbos onto my champion-caliber guys and, in the end, I was overwhelmed. Eh. I set up poorly. My small unit of archers (nearly as puissant as the Medusae in the first scenario) did a ton of damage, but ended up blocked by mountains. I was later told most jackal players set the archers on a mountain top, whereas I’d attempted to snipe out wargs forced (by the scenario rules) to slake their thirst at the single desert oasis. Live and learn.

So…2:30am? Yeah. About that when we ended. Beers consumed over the course of the Chainmail tournament? I averaged about one per turn taken (mine AND my opponents'). There had been a LOT of turns. I dusted off the bitter taste of back-to-back defeats and hied my beaten ass to bed, one last beer in hand. Next day looked to be another marathon.

[side note: the following rounds of the Chainmail World Cup would be played over the next two days, with the Championship game Saturday afternoon. It came down to Dreadlord/Mitch and Ghoul versus Eria and Valez over the same Queen Scorpion scenario, with Team DreadGhoul taking the "good guy" jackal-men...and getting soundly beaten. Long live the champs, and all that, but man that was a rough outing right out of the gate!]

Cauldron Day 0: Logistics & Intel

Alright…are we done with the sentimentality? Let’s get down to brass tacks. 

Cauldron 2026 was the largest, most ambitious Cauldron yet outside (perhaps) the first one. 2023 featured two-and-a-half days of gaming (five game blocks/sessions) with roughly 50 participants. 2024 had a handful more players, and three+ days planned, of which the final day was abruptly cancelled (seven game blocks total). Last year, the new venue accommodated 80+ participants over another 2.5 days and six game blocks. This year? Around 90 participants (including con organizers, many of whom had the chance to sit in on games) over nearly four full days and nine gaming blocks.

I was quite afraid I might incinerate by the end of the thing.

My original idea was to use the extended format to run a mini-campaign: nine linked adventures set in my home campaign, using the same pre-generated PCs, with scenarios designed to take them from levels 3rd up to 14th. To accomplish this, I would take advantage of the (untimed) night blocks to run extra-long (i.e. more than 4+ hour time blocks) and get characters extra levels. The capper would be a high level extravaganza that’s been in the back of my mind for roughly 45 years.

But a funny thing happened on the way to the forum…I decided I’d register my boy (nearly 16 at the moment) for the convention and bring him along. It was, I deemed, time to bring him into the fold. Besides I was quite inspired by all the young people I’d seen in 2025…he was as old as many of these kids (and older than some). And Germany, being one of my favorite countries in the world…well, it was time to share the experience with him. Before he had a chance to grow too old for such “silly games.”

; )

And Diego wanted to play with me…as in play as player with me by his side. Of course, we were also BOTH interested in Chainmail (my boy’s love of wargaming is at least equal to mine, even if he’s less inclined to the painting part of the hobby). As I started to see the gaming blocks fill, and as I realized that six months was a tad ambitious to write and prep nine adventures (including, of course, yet another installment of the annual “Blackrazor Tournament Cup”), I started modifying my planned agenda.

I would run five adventures: four original adventures plus the tourney scenario. Everything would be in the four-hour range; no linked campaign scenarios (although I would use the same pre-gens for the non-tourney adventures, just set at different experience levels. Call it ‘for the sake of expedience’).

AH…still: easier said than done. Between my normal busy-ness and the regular interruptions that are simply a part of daily life, it was a near thing to even complete the five adventures I’d planned/slated for the con. The tournament adventure itself (which I will discuss in a future blog post) was a bear to write (no pun intended!). After months of dicking around with it, I got it finished sometime in late July/early August…soon enough that I could playtest it on Orcas and get the final draft mailed out to the DMs by September. Only at THAT point was able to get to my other new, (mostly) original adventures.

Four-to-five-ish weeks, in other words. If people were wondering “what happened to that B/X blogger guy” when he all-but-disappeared in the month of September…well, that’s what.

But I got it done, not least of which helped was helped by my coming down with a sickness (passed to me by my daughter and/or all her sniffling teammates on the soccer team). Last weekend, the weekend before Cauldron…it feels like two years ago…I was flat on my back and isolated in the guest room for nearly 48 hours. Fortunately, I had already finished my maps, so I used the time to write, write, write. As I said, I got it done, ahead of my Wednesday plane reservation.

And then, on Monday, my son got sick.

And I mean, he was REALLY sick. Bad fever, the whole nine yards. He came home from school Monday and went straight to bed. Didn’t go to school Tuesday or Wednesday. We took it right up till thirty minutes before we had to leave for the airport. Fever of 102.8. Standing him up, walking him around, getting him a hot shower, tea, soup, fresh air, sunshine…nothing. He had the dead eyes and miserable catatonic look of a person who couldn’t even stand without help. I made the call: he was staying home. The look of disappointment in his face was nearly as heart-breaking as his general state of health: “This is Papa’s last time going back to Germany and I’m going to miss it!”

I promised him that I WOULD return for a future Cauldron and I that I would make certain he DID accompany me.

The last thing I did before grabbing my Uber to SeaTac was to send a DM to Settembrini (Cauldron’s head honcho/organizer) informing him of the situation. I had no concern for a refund, but I wanted to make sure that, if possible, the next person on the waiting list was allowed access. Cauldron, after all, deserves to be shared.

The plane travel itself was largely uneventful. The available movies were all terrible or things I’d already seen (or, in some cases, both). Mostly, I used the time to try to catnap (attempting to get ahead of the jet lag), organize treasure lists on my laptop (for ease of calculating experience points post-game) or reading the many possible Chainmail scenarios that I might be taking part in.

This last deserves elaboration: Chainmail, the precursor and inspiration for the original D&D ruleset has been a mostly dead game since the 1970s, outside of (possibly) Midwest wargaming clubs (assuming such things still exist). I own a PDF copy and have studied it as a matter of historical interest; I’ve even written some supplemental rules for it (as part of my NAP III adventure, Dragon Wrack). But while I’m aware of retroclones and “updates” to the original Chainmail rules (LWAS’s “Platemail,” anyone?) I am unaware of anyone regularly playing this particular “medieval wargame.” After all, Warhammer is still a thing right (what edition are we on? 12th?).

OUTSIDE OF GERMANY, that is. Oh, those crazy Germans! Of course it’s the Germans who, over the last few years, have revived Chainmail in their own gaming club(s), bonding their love of wargaming with their love of the (older) D&D hobby tradition and making it a regular part of their campaign play. Nexus…the German gaming club behind Cauldron…has taken to this old gaming set with gusto…playing it, practicing it, clarifying and editing it to make it a living breathing integral part of their gaming culture. In four years of Cauldron, there has been Chainmail at every single one. Last year, I participated in my first Chainmail battle. This year, I had been required to pre-register (along with my son) as a two-person team in what was being billed as the First World Cup Chainmail Championship. Heady stuff indeed!

But I hadn’t even had the opportunity to read the Sarisa rules (their two-volume rules compilation/adaptation) nor any of the tournament scenarios that would be part of this 'World Cup.' My 14 hours of plane travel provided me the time I needed to study all of it, although “study” is not the same thing as “practical experience.” I assumed I would be at a disadvantage even without the (very good) possibility I would be asleep on me feet…again.

The last thing I did was make sure I had character sheets for myself. Since I had decided (and intended) to PLAY in other people’s games this year, I wanted to make sure I have appropriate ADDKON-worthy characters for use. Tuesday afternoon, I had dug through the bowels of my gaming closet, seeking out old character sheets from my earliest days of gaming. I already had a suitable 3rd level character, care of my boy’s A&D campaign, but I felt I would need something mid-level and definitely something high level for Settembrini’s “Army of Madness” adventure that he would be running Friday night. The mid-level would be for Ignatius Umlaut’s Friday night jam (if I couldn’t get into Setti’s game) or, perhaps, Keith Sloan’s Forgotten Grottoes of the Sea Lords on Sunday. Regardless, I wanted to be prepared and the last couple hours of the second leg was spent re-copying decades’ old character sheets from my middle school years onto fresh, lined notebook paper.

Alex and Grutzi (“Porthos” and “Aramis”) picked me up from the airport, finding me about 30 seconds after I’d grabbed my checked bag (being “Athos” I, of course, had packed a high quality bottle of booze) and hit the ATM for the Monopoly money that passes for cash on this side of the world. A great car ride, great conversation, great tunes (Alex and I have similar musical tastes)…and then voila, we were once again in the Promised Land, walking in (a little late) to Setti’s introductory speech, already in progress.

Fortunately, we didn’t miss much, and we still had time to grab a bite and some coffee…as well as find our rooms and bedding…before the first game block. The Magyar horde was all of one minute behind us, but it wouldn’t have been appropriate for us to upstage their standard, dramatic entrance. All was right in the world.

I need to pause for a moment.

I give all this overview, in part, because I want to give some context before I get to the games proper which are (possibly) of more interest to my readers. Roughly six months of planning and preparation had been going on for me (when possible) in the run-up to this four-day convention. Even when not writing adventures, I was thinking and planning just how and what I would write…I am of the “if-you-have-eight-hours-to-chop-down-a-tree-spend-seven-hours-sharpening-the-axe” mindset when it comes to these kind of things. And part of my planning and sharpening was figuring out how to make an experience that was not only enjoyable for myself and the other con-goers (something important to me), but for my son. And my son wasn’t present.

And people had known he was coming. And they had wanted to meet him. And throughout the convention I was asked time and again by the con-goers what had happened and where he was and how he was. All loving, nothing but concern…and every incident a reminder, a knife in my heart, that he wasn’t there.

I went to my room with my bedding. #16 (the mark of the Tower in the Major Arcana, I noted grimly…how appropriate!). They had given us a private room, with two beds and its own bathroom. Simple and rustic and yet perfect for a young man in a foreign country, an exciting, foreign country for the first time…a sanctuary in which he could nap or do his schoolwork (he was going to have to bring some) in privacy without the interruption of other con-goers. It was so thoughtful, it made me want to cry. And does now, just thinking about it.

But the Cauldron people are full of these “considerate touches.” A French press of decaf coffee…I am 99% sure I was the only person at the con drinking decaf…was given to me as I sat down to run my first game. And every morning, Friday through Sunday (hoo-boy, we’ll talk about Sunday!) someone would find me with a giant plastic carafe of the stuff, knowing that I would polish it off before lunch. I had not asked for this, or put this down as one of my “food requirements.” They simply remembered from last year and had prepared for my coming. The kindness is…overwhelming at times.

Okay, okay…we already did the sentimental post. People want to know about games.

However, before that, I want to say something about “celebrity” in this environment. The on-line gaming community is full of “names” of people known for…well, for all sorts of stuff. Blogging and reviewing. Podcasting and publishing. Getting in internet scrapes and dust-ups. Whatever. I am aware and acknowledge that I am one of these “names,” not least of which because I’ve run a handful of good games at Cauldron, and started this little tournament thing. More than once this year, I had a person refer to me directly (or indirectly) as a “celebrity gamemaster.” Which is both flattering and bewildering. It’s not that I’m self-conscious…I am too arrogant and egotistical for that (and to be clear, I’ve always been somewhat arrogant and egotistical, long before I was “known” for anything). But much as I take pride in running a good game (I HOPE I run a good game…), I just recognize myself as A GUY RUNNING GAMES. Nothing more. No different from ANY of the other Dungeon Masters that show up to a convention and run a game, certainly nothing more “special” than that. If I exhibit a high level of proficiency (I hope I exhibit a high level of proficiency), it is only because I've been doing this a long time. And I’m sure the other old, “celebrity” DM geezers will tell you the same: when you get to be our age and you’ve been running games for thirty or forty years, well, you’d BETTER be able to make a good showing for yourself. Otherwise, what the hell have you been doing with your gaming time over the decades? Just running five room dungeons with a handful of goblins and a slime monster?

Cauldron attracts many big “names” in terms of game masters, some of whom are hardly known outside their home country but who are “big deals” in their own locale. Hell, most everyone who plays at Cauldron IS a Dungeon Master in their hometown…those putting in the time and money and effort to make it out to Hofraithe Rosenthal aren’t just “tourists” looking for a quick pick-up game. These are (mostly) people who’ve put in the work…universally, I hear how “the quality of player is so high” at Cauldron, and damn straight it is because back home these cats are RUNNING games, they are the Big Bosses in their home clubs. Just because they’ve chosen to relax and enjoy the ride in Germany doesn’t mean they don’t know what they’re doing…they absolutely do.

I am no different, other than the fact that I am an incorrigible control freak who would rather be in the driver’s seat than be driven by someone else. Flattering as it is to receive praise from people, I’m just someone who’s been doing this for a long time, and who enjoys doing it, and who hopes to share what he knows with others. Or at least run them a good game and keep them on-the-edge of their seat…and keep them cursing me under their breath.

And sometimes cursing me to my face…that’s a form of flattery, too, from my perspective.

; )

All right, that’s enough preamble. Next post we’ll get to the games proper.

Not Tired...Exhausted

It's 4:30am, German time. I've been up roughly two hours.

Cauldron wrapped up yesterday afternoon around 2pm. As per usual procedure, I spent the evening in a Frankfurt hotel, with a plan to board my return flight Monday afternoon. Unlike prior years, I'll be stopping off in Iceland, spending a couple days sightseeing before returning to Seattle on Wednesday night. My family, is already there, no doubt enjoying thermal springs and the beautiful Aurora Borealis, so difficult to see from our normal neck-o-the-woods.

In Seattle, it is 7:35pm and...biologically...that feels about right. 

It is possible that these little "Cauldron adventures" are taking a year or so off my life expectancy every time I attend one. The whirlwind that this trip is, delightful as it is (and it is delightful) takes an incredible toll, both physically and mentally.

Not emotionally, though. If anything, seeing these people I've come to love...my "European family"...is simply bolstering. There was no sadness, no melancholy, this time in the several rounds of good-byes said. My heart has simply come to accept that, yes, I will continue to come back, as often as I can, and that these people will be here (as often as they can), and our mutual respect, affection, and admiration does not wane or change. 

It is heartening; it is reinforcing. If I wasn't so drained (both mentally and physically), I'd imagine it would be revitalizing and reinvigorating. But I barely feel human at the moment (and that only after two long naps punctuated by an indulgently long hot shower and a rather huge meal featuring schnitzel, potatoes, and a large salad of mixed greens. Lots and lots of fresh water.

No alcohol. I think I'm going to lay off the hootch a bit and let my liver recuperate.

Back to what I was saying: depending on how far one "zooms out" there perspective, we are living in/through troubling times at the moment. There's really no way to sugar coat it. The things going on in the world, things you can read about on-line or that dominate the headlines of every news outlet every day, are not the stuff of a calm, peaceful, productive planet. It is more than sadness or disappointment or resentment...things are going very, very badly in a lot of ways and for a lot of people. There is a heightened feeling of tension running throughout most every person one encounters...an extra stress caused by worry for both the present and the future. 

Living in my normal blue bubble of Seattle, I can generally ignore most of it by focusing on the things I can control (coaching soccer, writing adventures, getting the kids fed and to school on time, etc.). Most of the time I ignore the price on meter when I put gas in the car. When shopping for groceries, I am far more particular with what I buy, trying to waste as little as possible, stretching my own resources as much as possible. I focus on being kind to others...when I can, and when the opportunities present themselves. I attend church when I can, and I pray for sanity and justice and for the safety of those struggling with real peril in the world, peril far removed from my own life of privilege.

All these things help...that is to say, they help me. But I'm not blind to what is going on and how people are feeling. This year at Cauldron, the subjects of politics and world events came up multiple times...I ended up having at least four or five conversations on the subject (which is highly unusual at this cozy, intimate, gaming convention). It comes up. People can't help themselves. And there is a desire, I think, to share those feelings, that stress, that anger, that uncertainty, with others. Not because we all need therapists or something. But because Cauldron is a safe space. The people there, largely strangers (other than the gaming clubs and groups that come together), they look at each other as friends...as family. 

And, generally speaking, not the kind of family you "have to put up with" (because they are relations and you have to extend them a certain amount of courtesy), but family whose company you enjoy. A shared tribe of gamers interested in gaming. A tribe of people who aren't there to make money, or pose for status, or exhibit their ability to lifestyle brand with panache. It's not your average nerd convention, in other words. It's Cauldron.

And so, as I left my family today (except for Alex, Grutzi, and Prince, with whom I shared the drive back to Frankfurt) I felt none of wistfulness of the last two times I've had to say goodbye. I felt only gratitude that these people exist, and that they are a part of my life, and that I am a part of theirs. And in my bones I know I will be back again, no matter what the future might hold. 

This. This community, this communal gathering of people, is SO IMPORTANT for our world right now. These safe spaces with people who quite honestly know so little about each other but who still hang together, eat together, drink together, laugh together, play together...I cannot emphasize how VALUABLE it is to have such an opportunity for this kind of gathering AT THIS EXACT TIME IN OUR WORLD. To be able to get along and find patience and tolerance and true enjoyment in each other's company, regardless of discrepancies in age or gender or nationality or religion or political alignment or WHATEVER it is that we have that might be a reason for division or separation. 

Our world needs more unity now, more love. Far more than I ever remember it needing in my 53 years of life. 

It is amusing...and fascinating...that something so humble as a game of fighting dragons and searching for imaginary treasure with the use of funny-shaped dice can be so profoundly meaningful. But, of course, it's not: D&D is simply the pretense for bringing people together. And there are many things that can do that. D&D has an advantage in that it can be enjoyed so universally, by so many people, regardless of ability. 

Ah...but now I'm meandering (or, perhaps, wandering into territory I've already discussed ad nauseam). The convention, Cauldron, is a blessing to this poor, troubled world of ours. It inspires me with real hope...one of the few things in this world that I can say that about. 

And things that inspire hope need to be loved and nurtured and appreciated. Protected. But also shared. I think most of the participants (especially those who, like me, have participated multiple times) would say the same: it wouldn't do to keep it to ourselves, to grow staid and insular. Fresh blood needs to be rotated into the mix, in order that more people can experience the con and take its light back out into the world with them. So far, there has been new folks at every Cauldron...by my count, there was some 30 new attendees, despite NOT increasing the convention's size. That's wonderful, and I fervently hope it continues to be the case. I fully intend to take next year off myself, and welcome my seat being filled by someone looking to experience the warmth and camaraderie of Cauldron for the first time.

[of course, I said LAST year that I would take this year off...and here I am again. Next year, though, will be a very busy October for both my children, and I intend to stay home and support them to the best of my ability]

Anyway, if you haven't yet had the chance to take the plunge on Cauldron, it has my strongest recommendation. And please, do not have any fears or worries about "beef" or bad blood you might have with people on the internet. I cannot stress enough just how little such internet disputes matter once you are actually meeting person-to-person. You will find nothing but gentlemanly (and ladylike) conduct at Cauldron and, more, you will find comfort and lasting friendship. 

Lastly, as I sign off here (and do not worry, gentle reader, I shall be posting full "action reports" over the next few days...it is a loooong plane ride back to Seattle)...allow me to shout out my friends, my brothers, my comrades-in-arms who took the time (once again) to drive me to-and-from Frankfurt to the middle of nowhere (or the Center of the Universe, depending on how you view Hofraithe Rosenthal): to Grutz, to Alex, and yes to the so-called "Prince of Nothing:" you my friends I will cherish your generosity as much, if not more so than anyone save, of course, the Settembrini clan (and one or two others...you know who you are). As I turned away to stumble into my hotel yesterday afternoon, even more exhausted than I am at the moment, I could not help but consider us in the context of Alexandre Dumas's famous Musketeers...for who are we, if not stout warriors of the trenches, discussing strategy and results and philosophy of gaming, even as we were too busy (running games) to sit in on each others' tables. Of the four, I am most obviously Athos, the brooding drunk with the painful past (and trust me when I say I am prone to brooding), the old man of the group.  Alex is Porthos, whose styled hair and carefully chosen metal t-shirts is a match for his humor, fast driving, and willingness to haul luggage with endless strength. Grutzi is Aramis: poetic, discreet, and soft-spoken, yet secretly ambitious (how many games you running next year, Grutz?). And, of course, our d'Artagnan, Prince, because of course he is: young, witty, energetic, and all-too-often a bit "wet behind the ears." What a foursome. Riding back to Frankfurt with you, listening to everyone's cheerful banter while I drifted in-and-out of consciousness, was the perfect cap off to the entire experience. 

Thank you to everyone for the lasting memories. Thank you to everyone for lighting a beacon, a torch, in darkness...and for allowing all of us who made the journey to light our own torches from your light, as we head back into our own dark corners of the world. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

[posted circa 11:13am as I did, in fact, fall asleep while writing. I guess I'm not entirely on "Seattle time" after all]