I is for Iron

[over the course of the month of April, I shall be posting a topic for each letter of the alphabet, sequentially, every day of the week except Sunday. Our topic for the month is Advanced Dungeons & Dragons: how to approach it, how to run it, how to enjoy a system that deserves to be played NOW, nearly 50 years after its inception. Consider this a 'crash course' in the subject]

I is for IRON...the will you must have to run AD&D and the fist you must rule with at your table. If you are going to be an AD&D Dungeon Master, your resolve must be iron clad.

Perhaps that sounds like 'petty tyrant nonsense.' It is not. The game play of Dungeons & Dragons is built upon TRUST...the trust the players have in the Dungeon Master. For the game to function...whether in the short-term or (especially) over the long-haul, the players must have unshakeable trust that the DM will  be a fair and impartial arbiter, abiding by the rules of the game, whether those rules are set by the DM or by the instructional text of the game itself.

This is yet another reason why the knowledge of the books (and the instructions within them) is so important and why it is best to keep any house rules (especially those that upend the standard systems and procedures in the text) should be kept to a minimum. The game texts are the 'holy scripture' of the game, that set out the rules that govern the (game) world...yes, they produce a fun game for us to play, but they set the "laws of the universe" by which all participants must abide...just as real humans are subject to the laws of gravity or the turns of the seasons.

For the players, any wavering on the part of the DM, any wishy-washyness, any chink in their armor that can be exploited or manipulated...any BREAK in their iron...can prove disastrous to trust.  If one player or another can wheedle (or weasel) the Dungeon Master into giving an inch, the game risks becoming a farce...a sham. No longer a game of playing adventure, but a game of playing the DM. 

You must rule your table with an iron fist. This does not mean bullying your players; rather, you must have a unbreakable grip of you own game. When a player complains "But Gandalf used a sword! Friar Tuck used a sword!" you must be able to look them in the eye, and calmly say, "Yes, I know...but this is not The Lord of the Rings or Robin Hood, and in this game world wizards and priests don't use swords."  Those that still want to play will accept the rules of play and stay at the table...and, so long as you apply the rules consistently, they will find their foundation of trust strengthening.

Because you demonstrate integrity. 

I've written about this before with regard to DMs who allow themselves to be flummoxed or cajoled into accepting the complaints and whining of players, in some misguided attempt to "keep everyone happy." Trying to keep everyone happy is a fool's errand. No...you are a baseball umpire. Sometimes people are called out on strikes and THAT is the rules of the game...the rules that everyone playing have agreed to abide by.

AD&D is no different from baseball in this regard.

Does this mean that people watching my table will observe me constantly shouting down my players, belittling them, telling them to sit down, shut up, and play the damn game? No, of course not. When someone asks a question about game procedures, I provide them with an explanation as to why I'm doing something. Any "house rules" I may have are explained at the outset of the session, such that there isn't a question later, in the middle of play. And if a person challenges me...which happens on occasion...with a rule of which I was unaware, we pause the game and look up the rule and assess it. And then CORRECT our game play as necessary.  Because I, too, have an interest in playing the game right.

Again, this demonstrates integrity.

And I want to demonstrate integrity.  I want players to trust me in my role as Dungeon Master...that I hold myself to a standard they can count on, rely on.

Because the DM is given enormous power within the game. Even though AD&D characters do not have the floofy backstories and dramatic arcs of a 5E character, players still become (over time) emotionally invested in their characters...their actions create history and meaning and memories of shared experiences. The AD&D character becomes as much a part of their player as the university they went to, the career they've chosen, the spouse they married.  And the Dungeon Master can BLAST THAT CHARACTER INTO NOTHINGNESS AT ANY TIME. The DM can have a bottomless pit open beneath the character's feet, or a river of lava break though the dungeon wall, or a cave-in crush every member of the party ('rocks fall, everyone dies'). The DM can send wave upon wave of monsters (such as the Dragonlance modules do to those who step off its railroad path) or create magic traps that do all manner of despicable, de-protagonizing things to characters (see Tomb of Horrors for examples). The DM is explicitly empowered (via the text in the DMG) with destroying characters with "bolts from the blue" simply for behaving badly (as judged by the DM).  

Who wants to play in a game like that? Who can feel engaged in a game that is subject to such arbitrariness? Why put in the time and effort and emotional commitment just to have everything you've worked for stripped away by a capricious individual?

If you, as a DM, cannot demonstrate integrity, your players will not be able to trust you. If you break your own rules, or the rules of the game, they will have no choice but to see you as a person given to subjective bouts of whimsy. And that's someone they cannot trust. This will break your game.

You must have an iron will and an iron resolve when it comes to running your game. You cannot allow yourself to be subject to the "rule of cool." If you want a game that is meaningful over the long-term, you must be as UNcool, as the parent who says to the child, "No, you cannot stay up till 2am watching videos while swilling soda and stuffing your face with ice cream." For the benefit of your campaign and your players, you must be totally uncool in the face of complaints.

But isn't this game supposed to be fun? And imaginative? And chock-full of amazing cool fantasy? Yes, of course. And it is!  In what other game can you catch and train winged horses for riding? In what other game can you find yourself leading a band of mercenary soldiers into battle against the unwashed hordes of beast-men bent on ruin? In what other game can you fight dragons and plunder their lairs? In what other game can you turn yourself invisible, fly, and rain fiery death on your enemies? In what other game can you travel to both the depths of Hell and the heights of Olympus to personally commune (or combat) gods and demons? In what other game can you start as a lowly pawn and elevate yourself to living legend through your own deeds?  AD&D allows you do ALL of this...and more!...all within the standard rules of the game.  Is that not amazingly cool, imaginative fun?

But that is digression (and the subject of a post yet to come). The point of THIS post is that you must be as rigid as iron when it comes to running the game by the rules you've accepted to play (whether or not they've been modified by "house rules"), and not allow yourself to be swayed or "buffaloed" into deviation. Every time you allow yourself (as DM) to be "gamed" by the players, you erode their trust in your ability to be fair and impartial...even for those players who BENEFIT from this manipulation. Sure, you were willing to fudge the dice rolls for them this time, but what about next time? And can any victory feel earned with the knowledge that your DM is willing to tamper with the results?

Best to build your campaign on a strong, solid foundation. Be iron, my friends.

H is for House Rules

[over the course of the month of April, I shall be posting a topic for each letter of the alphabet, sequentially, every day of the week except Sunday. Our topic for the month is Advanced Dungeons & Dragons: how to approach it, how to run it, how to enjoy a system that deserves to be played NOW, nearly 50 years after its inception. Consider this a 'crash course' in the subject]

H is for House Rules...a subject that is likely to meet with more consternation than some of these other essays.

I'd imagine that most D&D players, when asked about their "house rules," will consider all the ways they (or their group) have altered the rules of their game to better meet their expectations of play. All sorts of modifications have been proposed and used by folks over the years, in every edition of the game...far too many to make any kind of comprehensive list. Some groups have decided they don't like level restrictions, or race/class restrictions. Some groups have decided to use a "silver standard" instead of gold for their economy. Others have decided to axe various rules and systems from the game...everything from languages and training, to alignment, to whole races or classes (several folks, for example have decided they dislike the inclusion of clerics in the game, feeling it diminished the "sword & sorcery" feel of the game), while ADDING new procedures that subvert or undermine the existing system...things like "luck points" or a shields will be splintered rule.

In many cases, the DMs making these changes to their game do so with the claim that D&D's authors meant the game to be changed and adjusted at any time; that, rather than actual rules, the instructional text serves only as "guidelines" that a Dungeon Master should feel free to rewrite to their liking, at any time, broadly interpreting the final afterword of OD&D's initial rule set as carte blanche for wholesale changes. 

I am of a different opinion on the matter.

Leaving aside OD&D (not the subject of this series anyway), I find little in the AD&D books to indicate Gygax wanted anyone to modify or change the rules of the game at all. Quite the opposite, in fact:

Dictums are given for the sake of the game only, for if ADVANCED DUNGEONS & DRAGONS is to survive and grow, it must have some degree of uniformity, a familiarity of method and procedure from campaign to campaign within the whole. ADVANCED D&D is more than a framework around which individual DMs construct their respective milieux, it is above all a set of boundaries for all of the "worlds" devised by referees everywhere. These boundaries are broad and spacious, and there are numerous areas where they are so vague and amorphous as to make them nearly nonexistent, but they are there nonetheless. 

...The danger of a mutable system is that you or your players will go too far in some undesirable direction and end up with a short-lived campaign...Variation and difference are desirable, but both should be kept within the boundaries of the overall system. Imaginative and creative addition can most certainly be included; that is why nebulous areas have been built into the game. Keep such individuality in perspective by developing a unique and detailed world based on the rules of ADVANCED D&D. No two campaigns will ever be the same, but all will have the common ground necessary to maintaining the whole as a viable entity about which you and your players can communicate with many thousands of others....

[from the DMG, page 7]

No, the game does not cover the entirety of possible (fantasy) experiences, but it does have functional rules, and the areas where creativity is not only allowed but encouraged are those places where the rules are "vague and amorphous." In other words, only the areas of play where there are no systems or procedures to cover the subject in question...those places (and there are many) are where DMs should be adding specificity and using their own creativity. As needed.

Conversely, where there are already rules, they are there for a reason. And maintaining uniformity (by adhering to those rules) is an explicit objective of the game designer as pointed out MANY times in the text (see the PHB preface and the DMG afterword, in addition to the quotes above).

Now, please allow me to stem the tide of readers jumping down my throat about how they love their dwarven clerics and how unlimited demihuman advancement "saved" their campaign.  I am not so obtuse as to believe that the majority (or ANY) of the DMs running the game are doing it entirely "by the book."  Neither do I want to be hypocritical in professing to be a completely RAW ("rules as written") Dungeon Master when it comes to running AD&D. As a youth, we strove to abide by the rules as much as humanly possible, but there were things we missed and things we got wrong, and for the sake of expedience there was definitely a time when we adopted the rather lenient Moldvay version of encumbrance for our otherwise granular AD&D campaign.

But then, we didn't have the tools (laptops and spreadsheets) that we do today.

Still, even today, my own game deviates in multiple ways from AD&D as written. While mostly done to shore up some inconsistencies and problems found in certain magical (spell) effects, other changes...like the wholesale removal of alignment or the magic-user's need to read magic...are far more significant in scope, if not impact.

All that being confessed, I strive to run MOST of the game in a manner that "hews the line with respect to conformity with major systems and uniformity of play in general" (as Gygax stipulates in the afterword of the DMG). Because these days I run games for all sorts of players, not just my own "regulars." And I want to make sure that anyone who sit down at my table to play AD&D...whether at a "demo," a game shop, or a convention...and has an INKLING (or more) of the game are going to be able to dive in with little or no trouble. Yes, they can even 'choose an alignment' (if they must)...they simply won't find it mattering much (or at all) in play. But everything else? The actual nuts-and-bolts of game play? That they should find more-or-less 'as Gary intended.'

That uniformity that the author hammers on about is quite useful. AD&D is not a particularly 'hard' game to play, but it is not a simple game...certainly not in comparison to, say, the Basic editions written to introduce new players to D&D concepts. But because of that uniformity I can (and have) run AD&D games without issue for players from many different countries. It has allowed me to write adventures that have been run in German and French and Hungarian (to be clear. NOT my native language). It has allowed me to correspond with folks all over the world (via the wonderful technology of today), explaining the rules and how they work (based on my personal interpretations of the text) and citing where they can find the same information themselves. 

The important thing, however, is that it provides a shared understanding and a shared lexicon for communication. When I play chess with my (Mexican) father-in-law, we use different terms for the pieces, but the pieces still move in the same fashion. By playing as close to 'standard' AD&D procedures as I do, I stave off a lot of questions and...I believe...a lot of possible frustrations and resentment. Just being able to say, "yeah, that half-orc paladin (or whatever) ain't allowed in the rules," cuts off a lot of potential issues that might otherwise arise at the table. Yes, some folks will find it galling that their elven fighter can't advance past a certain level...but at least they know what they're signing up for when they join an AD&D game. And my game world doesn't end up looking all that much different from someone else's campaign (assuming they play with the same rules in place).

So, if you were to ask MY players what my most important house rules are (and I have), THESE are the ones they've most often cited:

• No cell phones or electronic devices allowed at the table (this includes the DM...I use my laptop between sessions for calculating and tracking various numbers, but in play, I only use printed documents and hardcopy manuals).
• All dice are rolled "in the box" (all my dice are rolled in the open and in a flat-lying box top; dice that bounce out of the box do not count and are re-rolled in the box).
• No PVP ("player versus player") conflict allowed (players are on the same team; the DM is the adversary)

My fifteen year old son (one of my players) adheres to these house rules in his game, too, although he insists on running everything else "by the book" (including the use of alignment, etc.). Which is his prerogative, of course. And it doesn't bother me in the slightest, because I already know how to play AD&D by the book.

G is for Gygaxian

[over the course of the month of April, I shall be posting a topic for each letter of the alphabet, sequentially, every day of the week except Sunday. Our topic for the month is Advanced Dungeons & Dragons: how to approach it, how to run it, how to enjoy a system that deserves to be played NOW, nearly 50 years after its inception. Consider this a 'crash course' in the subject]

G is for Gygaxian...a particular style of setting design often described as "Gygaxian Naturalism," this latter term first coined by James Maliszewski in 2008.

[James also wrote a follow-up post entitled Gygaxian UNnaturalism that's also worth reading as part of the same discussion]

While each Dungeon Master's campaign is their own to design, there are certain assumptions of the setting that are baked into AD&D play. Maliszewski's discussion stems from the style proliferated in Gygax's later works (his published adventure modules, his World of Greyhawk, and his AD&D books) which were a far cry from the open-ended, Gonzo-possibility that proves so seductively enticing to aficionados of the OD&D (original) edition of Dungeons & Dragons.  These setting assumptions "color" the AD&D game, which for those who dislike "limits on their imagination," can feel both constricting and off-putting.

We'll get to that in a moment.

LOTs of setting assumptions are baked into the "setting-less" AD&D system. For example, there are assumptions of an inter-species, interactive society. There is an assumption of cosmic forces of good and evil. These cosmic forces have actual physical impact on mere (human) mortals...doing "evil" loses a paladin or ranger their professional skills and abilities, for example.  Certain creatures (undead) are subject to the divine powers of clerics (both good and evil). Gold is the coin of the realm and is coveted by ALL intelligent creatures...not just as evidenced by the random treasure hoards in monster lairs, but in the fact that intelligent monsters can be distracted from pursuit by dropping treasure (unlike unintelligent animals, who are onlydistracted by dropping food).

Gygax's adventures exhibit a fantasy ecosystem, in which some monsters prey on other monsters, while other creatures (humanoids especially) exhibit societies, doing construction work both above and below ground, having caravans (often with slaves taken in war/raids), and being ruled by hierarchies of kings, chieftains, sub-chiefs, and lesser lieutenants. It is very much a "human-centric" world view...not only because humans are the focus protagonists, but because every society and custom observed is given in terms of comprehensible human norms. Nothing here is very "alien" in the Gygaxian milieu, even if the fantasy creatures themselves are VERY alien.

Take the mind flayer for example.  Nothing could be more alien than a brain-sucking, tentacle-faced, mind-monster. And yet they have cities. They wear clothes. They keep treasure. They flee when things go against them. They keep slaves. They fight wars with other species (the githyanki). They trade, bargain, make alliances (see the D1-D3 series of modules). In some ways it is very much "rubber mask" fantasy of the Star Trek or Star Wars variety. Creatures seek slaves, treasure, interbreed with humans, have all the normal human range of social behaviors from hatred to great friendship...even creatures that are so long-lived (elves) that their perception of time itself should lead to a completely different method of relating to the concept.

This human-centric, fantasy "naturalism" is important to AD&D play for a number of reasons, not the least of which is that it provides a modicum of verisimilitude. Once upon a time I read that part of the impetus for the Hickman's "story first" approach to adventure design came with their frustration out of plyaing D&D in a dungeon that featured random disparate monsters being discovered, side-by-side, in adjoining rooms for no rhyme or reason...something like a a bunch of goblins, a slime/ooze, and a vampire. Such random design is nothing like the type of ecology Gygax describes in the DMG under Monster Populations and Placement (pages 90-91); clearly the Hickmans were "gifted" with an inferior Dungeon Master. 

Lack of verisimilitude, like "gonzo" settings devoid of consistency or sensibility, can quickly derail player engagement. The less players can trust the setting to abide by any particular, understandable rules, the less the players can trust the Dungeon Master running the game. Why is that? Because, in a game that invests one player (the DM) with all the power of the (imaginary) universe, the players has to trust and believe that the DM will be fair and impartial, abiding by the same rules that govern the players. When the world seems unreasonably odd, strange, or "whackadoo," how can the players trust the DM to NOT be whimsical and arbitrary in their adjudication?

Having a sensible ecology...even a fantastical one...sets parameters and limits; yes, limits that some DMs of a more imaginative bent might find chafing. But for the players, these limits serve as boundaries and guideposts...they indicate the territory in which they (and the DM) can operate. This provides the players with tremendous freedom, as they know that which is not prohibited is allowable. It is a safety net of sorts...one that prevents the DM (who, again it must be emphasized, is all powerful in the game) from over-stepping their prerogatives. Certainly (at least) it can reign in their more power-mad proclivities.

But that is just the verisimilitude aspect of the Gygaxian setting style. The "human-centric" nature of the Gygax's "naturalism," ensures that the game, no matter how fantastical it seems, is still readily accessible by the players at the table.  Yes, mind flayers are completely, horrifically, alien...and, yet, even the most inexperienced player can grasp their (all too human) motivations, understand how to bargain with them (if such becomes possible...or a necessity), and grasp that they might have valuable stashed around that can be taken (if the opportunity presents itself) or be used in trade/negotiation. Dragons, too, are more than just fire-breathing reptiles; bugbears are more than sasquatches...they are peoples, peoples with ambitions and desires, fears and motives.  Not necessarily stories, mind you...the vast majority of NPCs (monstrous or not) in the AD&D game require zero backstory or background. But they have ecology...we know they have to do something to eat. We know they had some type of parent that birthed/hatched them, and may well be seeking to raise a brood of their own. That is naturalism...even if it is fantastical "Gygaxian" naturalism.

AD&D abounds with this...just read through the Monster Manual(s).  Perytons need human hearts to reproduce. Griffons and bulettes natural prey are horses (although the latter find halflings a special treat and dig them from their burrows every chance they get). Dwarves and goblins have longstanding feuds, as do elves and orcs and gnomes and kobolds. Dragons can be subdued instead of slain. Hill giants keep cave bears for pets like a human keeps dogs. Otyughs eat waste from other monsters in the dungeon.  Mimics are the venus flytraps of the underground.  There is ecological setting considerations scattered throughout the AD&D game.

Verisimilitude. Accessibility. Both in aid of having active player engagement, rather than alienation. It wasn't just Gygax's penchant for a particular 'brand' of fantasy that led these things to be a part of the AD&D game. Whether or not he thought about it at the time he was writing, they ended up in the books that form the instructional text of the game...and as a result, an AD&D campaign, run well, is exceptionally good at holding the attention of its participants. Players and DMs alike.

F is for Fighting

[over the course of the month of April, I shall be posting a topic for each letter of the alphabet, sequentially, every day of the week except Sunday. Our topic for the month is Advanced Dungeons & Dragons: how to approach it, how to run it, how to enjoy a system that deserves to be played NOW, nearly 50 years after its inception. Consider this a 'crash course' in the subject]

F is for Fighting...because of course it is. Whether you're talking fangs, fisticuffs, or flashing blades, combat and battle is a deeply ingrained part of the AD&D experience.

But it's super late tonight, and this is the first chance I've had to write today (I'm currently on vacation with the family, and it's my 25th wedding anniversary to boot). 

So instead of writing 10,000 words on the subject I will link you to my earlier post on how I run AD&D combat. Of course, it would also be helpful to understand the literary basis of the game's combat assumptions and expectations. And, for the truly content starved reader, may I direct you to this other post on how to run initiative in the AD&D game.

Apologies for being lazy, but it's been a long, full day, and it's time to hit the hay. Till tomorrow!

: )

E is for Engagement

[over the course of the month of April, I shall be posting a topic for each letter of the alphabet, sequentially, every day of the week except Sunday. Our topic for the month is Advanced Dungeons & Dragons: how to approach it, how to run it, how to enjoy a system that deserves to be played NOW, nearly 50 years after its inception. Consider this a 'crash course' in the subject]

E is for Engagement…that thing that all Dungeon Masters seek from their players.

Truly, engagement is what DMs hope for whenever we sit down to run a game of AD&D. We are not looking for praise and appreciation…those things are nice to hear, of course, but the fact is we would put in the time and effort of DMing regardless of whether or not anyone appreciates the work we do. How many times has our work gone unappreciated? And yet we continue to come back to the table and sit in the DM’s chair…gluttons for punishment, huh?

No, praise and thanks and compliments are NOT the reason DMs do what they do. And if it is, their career as a “Dungeon Master” is likely to be short-lived and full of frustration (players tend to be a fickle and unappreciative bunch). No, we create to create…we run for the thrill of it. Compliments, thankfully, are not our sustenance.

And from our players, engagement is our aim.

An engaged player is one whose attention is focused on the game at hand; an engaged player is one whose interest is held by the action at the table. The true measure of a DM’s quality is not the number of players who sit down to their table…as I’ve pointed out before, there are far more individuals willing to be players than DMs. No, the true measure of a DM’s quality is whether or not players RETURN to the DM’s table.

Can you engage your players? Can you hold their interest? Can you keep them fully “bought in” to the game you’re running? Or would they rather stack dice and scroll Instagram on their phone?

Lack of engagement is a common enough complaint in Reddit’s hallowed halls. “I catch my on-line players playing video games when I’m trying to get through my villain’s monologue” is something I’ve read more times (back when I was still reading Reddit) than I ever imagined I’d read. But while it’s simple enough to insist on only running games OFF-line (as I heartily suggest), even face-to-face DMs may find the attention of their players drifting. How to keep it?

Because keep it you must. As already explained, every AD&D Dungeon Master is running a campaign...not just finite story arcs, but an entire world, constantly developing, constantly being adjusted, modified, added to. While such world building is its own “fun” in and of itself, the input we receive from the players who participate in the campaign help the thing to evolve in leaps and bounds. A DM is, after all, only one human with billions of possible ideas. When you add other humans, each with their own billions of ideas, the rate of growth and richness of depth increase exponentially. Players help DMs to explore their own potential. We learn more in dynamic interaction with others than we do in solitude. 

And so, we want players. And for those players to stick around, they need to be engaged. Interest has to be held; interest has to be STOKED. There must be something for the players to engage with, so that their attention, their focus, can be LOCKED to the game. So that they say that playing in a DM’s campaign is a higher priority on Saturday night (or whenever) than any number of entertainments they might otherwise pursue.

And AD&D does this in a far simpler way than the poor cousin that is “modern day” D&D. The current brand of D&D…the “5.5” edition…would have people believe that to hold players’ interest, you must be an ENTERTAINER. You must be a STORYTELLER. You must have amazing NPCs with funny voices and accents that interact with players and create DRAMA. That you must learn to SAY YES to the players, succumbing to every wild hair they get. That you must allow players to SUCCEED and BE HEROES and have their SPOTLIGHT MOMENTS and give each of them their own STORY ARC, praising applauding them if only for rolling a high number on a random dice roll. Feed your players’ narcissism, their individual egos. Dance for them like a performing monkey. Dance monkey! Dance!

This is not the way of AD&D. AD&D provides clear objectives of play based on its premise: the players are adventurers, treasure seekers in a dangerous world. It has systems in place that reward meeting that objective (players earn experience “points” for finding treasure) and the game, when run properly, is challenging enough that players will need to learn to lean on each other, to rely on each other, to cooperate with each other, in order to survive. In order to WIN; in order to NOT LOSE.

How does the AD&D Dungeon Master keep their players engaged? By running the game in this way. By using the rules and systems of the game and by respecting the game’s premise. We do not spend half a  game session focused on a shopping excursion in the local town or village. We do not craft monologues for our NPCs, nor even extensive, flowery introductions and excessive description of encounter areas; it is common knowledge that long 'box text' causes players' attention to drift.

The best way to hold players' attention is to force them to interact with the rules of the game. Calling for a die roll, a saving throw, a D6 roll for initiative or surprise...these things force players to sit up and take notice. Providing players with decision=making questions ("left or right?" "descend the stairs or not?" "attack or give quarter?") and meaningful choices not only force players to engage, but help them establish their own agency.  Not "what do you want to do?" which, untethered from context or situation, tends to cause paralysis but instead an array of possibilities that must be weighed by the players. Risk versus reward.

To be engaged, players must feel that not only do they matter, but that their decisions and their actions matter. That is, that they are consequential. As DMs, the way we address the players, the choices we give them, the die rolls we call for, and the results we describe...not just flowery narration, but the actual nuts-n-bolts consequences...contributes immensely to whether or not players feel their actions, their choices, their die rolls, their very lives (as players of the game) have any importance at all. 

The DM as group leader and facilitator can shape the dynamics of the table by their approach to the players in their charge. Not every player is created "equal;" those with more knowledge and more game experience are going to have far more impact than the newer members of the group...and those at the table will know this, instinctively...but that doesn't mean the newbies have "nothing" to offer. DMs can still present newbies with options, and request their decisions, explaining (when needed) the risks associated with those actions. They are still required to make die rolls; they still absorb damage (hit points) and expend resources (spells, arrows, torches and oil, etc.) that contribute to the overall party situation and success. Point these out to the group in total, reinforcing the notion that everyone has value!

While this may seem somewhat like modern D&D's admonitions to "share the spotlight" among the players, I'm advocating for nothing of the sort. There is no call to creativity being placed on individuals, no request for improvisational grandstanding, no demand for backstories, story arcs, or drama, and certainly no judgment on whether or not individuals are "role-playing" good or even enough. What I am doing is running a game and allowing the rules of the game to carry the day, putting the systems and procedures firmly in front of the players' noses and giving them the choice: play or die. Learn or burn. Each to their own measure, of course (another reason it's good to start new players with 1st level characters and give them challenges commensurate to their ability), but enough that they have something to chew without choking.

Do this, and they'll come back for more.

Happy Easter!

Happy Easter, folks!  My profound hope and prayer that this day brings you a renewed feeling of hope and possibility, regardless of your circumstance, your pain, or your struggles. With life there is always hope, and we should rejoice in the life given to us...it is given with purpose, even though that purpose may be a mystery to us.

Peace and love to you all!

[no, this is not my A to Z post for "E"...no A to Z postings on Sundays. We'll pick up again tomorrow]

D is for Dungeon

[over the course of the month of April, I shall be posting a topic for each letter of the alphabet, sequentially, every day of the week except Sunday. Our topic for the month is Advanced Dungeons & Dragons: how to approach it, how to run it, how to enjoy a system that deserves to be played NOW, nearly 50 years after its inception. Consider this a 'crash course' in the subject]

D is for Dungeon...specifically dungeon design.

The "dungeon" is (as one might expect) a rather important concept in a game called Dungeons & Dragons. Gygax's glossary in the DMG provides us with the following definition:

Dungeon -- A generic term for any castle, location, or ruin that serves as the site of an underground adventure.

Okay, straightforward enough. Or is it? 

The thing is this whole idea...this whole concept, the premise on which the game is built...is about as clear as mud. We are told in the PHB that "individual adventuring usually takes place in an underworld dungeon setting" until 

"play gradually expands to encompass other such dungeons, town and city activities, wilderness explorations, and journeys into other dimensions, planes, times, worlds, and so forth."

However, when it comes to the three types of adventures described in the PHB (p.101) between dungeons, wilderness, and city and town adventures

"Adventures into the underworld mazes are the most popular."

The reason the word dungeon is central in the game's title is because exploring dungeons is the most elementary part of game play. It is the reason the players are here...the reason they're willing to work together, cooperatively, towards a common objective. The dungeon...an underworld death trap filled with dangerous monsters and monstrous dangers while tempting players with the promise of fame and fortune...is the draw. When we say, D&D is a game of adventure, the DUNGEON is the location where that adventure takes place. For the most part (we'll get to the caveats in a bit).

Which is why it's so unfortunate that the AD&D books provide ALMOST ZERO INFORMATION ON HOW TO BUILD OR DESIGN A DUNGEON.

Unfortunate, I say, but true. A gross oversight on the part of the author, and one I didn't even realize till a few years ago, when I was writing a series of posts comparing the DMGs of various editions. None of them are "good" when it comes to this topic...in fact, "terrible" would be a more apt description. But it took me years to notice this lack of information because I learned the basics of how to design dungeons decades before...from Tom Moldvay.

Moldvay's Basic Dungeons & Dragons Rulebook (published in 1981...two years after the DMG) gives a pretty similar definition of the word "dungeon:" a place underground and often among ruins, where characters adventure. However, unlike Gygax's DMG, Moldvay outlines a step-by-step process for designing an adventure...in two pages, no less! His system, while simple, provides the foundational building blocks of design:

Step 1: Choose A Scenario. Moldvay calls this the "background theme or idea which ties the dungeon together," and notes that a "good scenario always gives the players a reason for adventuring." 

Step 2: Decide On A Setting. This is the actual location where the scenario takes place, the "dungeon" in question. Examples of adventure sites include castles, caverns, crypts, temples, mines, stronghold, towns, and towers...most any fixed location can serve as an adventure site, i.e. a "dungeon." But regardless, they all have in common the following elements:

- removed from "normal" (game) civilization

- stocked with danger

- contain the promise of reward

Step 3: Decide On Special Monsters. The D&D game, in all its editions, thrives on conflict, and requires adversaries for the players to struggle against. The scenario and setting suggests monstrous opponents that players can expect to encounter while exploring the dungeon.

Step 4: Draw The Dungeon Map. The first practical step (everything up till now has been thought exercise and/or brainstorming). You draw a map of the area the players intend to explore. For me, this is the most difficult part of dungeon design, as I tend to be a bit hard on myself. I often pull blueprints of actual buildings and cave complexes to use as templates, but I also steal maps from old adventures and re-work/re-purpose them. 

Good maps have sensible layouts, often with multiple means of ingress and exit, multiple levels (both up and down) with more than one way to access each, and enough asymmetry of design to be interesting. Maps for less experienced (generally lower level) players should be easier to map than those you design for experienced veterans, because players tend to want to make sketches during play to aid in their explorations. Making a nightmare labyrinth of non-Euclidean angles and shifting walls is going to be hard on players with fewer resources...and "actual play experience" is one of those resources.

In addition to being clear and legible enough for YOU, the DM, to read, it should have a number of encounter areas...rooms, chambers, special points on the map...that you should meticulously label with a numerical key. I strongly advise using simple numbering for these encounters, not an alphabetical key or (Lord no) Roman numerals.

Step 5: Stock The Dungeon. Now that you have the map for your dungeon (based on your scenario and setting you've chosen for that scenario), you key the dungeon with your notes of what will be found at each and every encounter area. This is the "meat" of dungeon design...the map is just the skeleton, and without the guts and muscle and sinew, it's not yet an adventure proper.

Moldvay identifies four forms of "contents" for encounter areas, and I find these useful categories for design. ALSO, while I don't determine contents of encounter areas randomly (as Moldvay suggests), I do place them in the same proportions given by his random chart:

• Monster (1-in-3 encounter areas): these are NPCs that are likely to be antagonistic towards exploring adventurers and who are combat-worthy and inclined to fight if provoked.
• Trap (1-in-6 encounter areas): these are obstacles and hazards designed to damage, delay, confuse, or inconvenience players.
• "Special" (1-in-6 encounter areas): these are anything not a "trap" or straightforward "monster." It could be a special (modified or non-book) monster, a magical effect of some kind (healing pools, teleportation gates, magic mouths, etc.) non-hostile NPCs (hostages that might be rescued or hired to join the group), riddles and tricks, etc.
• Empty (1-in-3 encounter areas): an encounter area devoid of Monsters, Traps, and Specials. It does not mean a literally "empty" chamber; it can still invite interaction (players may search it for traps, secret doors, etc.), and still take real game time from players determined to give it a thorough going over. But these areas are necessary places of respite from the stresses and danger of the dungeon, and I don't recommend going without.

It should be understood that these proportions are guidelines, not hard/fast rules. That being said, I always try to hew close to these proportions as they give a nice rhythm of play in practice. Since you'll only get perfect proportionality in dungeon designs that feature encounter areas in multiples of six, some rounding often occurs. For me, I tend to round the number of "empty" and "trap" areas DOWN while rounding "monster" and "special" encounter areas UP.

For example: given a 20 encounter area, I'd go with seven monsters, four specials, three traps, and six empties.

Treasure, of course, is equally important to stocking as danger, and as with types of encounter areas Moldvay's suggestions for treasure proportions aren't terrible (1-in-2 for monster encounters, 1-in-3 for trap encounters, 1-in-6 for empty encounters). Along with the proportion of encounter types, this indicates that slightly fewer than one-third of all encounter areas will have SOME sort of treasure present. For me, I prefer a slightly higher presence of treasure...something closer to 40+%, but this varies based on scenario and setting.

[please keep in mind that "treasure" takes many forms. If prisoners can be rescued for a reward, they are treasure. If the local magistrate has put a bounty on bugbear scalps, then bugbears become treasure. Etc. We are not just talking bags of gold and silver]

For AD&D, a game of adventure (in which players brave danger in pursuit of reward), treasure is the primary motivator, the "spur" that drives players to action. A steady drip-drip of treasure with the occasional discovery of a large cache, is the primary formula that keeps players on the move and willing to engage and struggle with the challenges of the dungeon environment.

At this point, we are done with Moldvay, and can speak to the concept of scale.

Each dungeon should be designed for a particular level of party; this is what I refer to as its "scale." Actually, it may be more precise to say a particular experience point total of individual player character. Often, you'll see an adventure designated as being for a specific level range...an adventure for levels 4th-6th, for example. They might as well say "for characters of roughly 22,000 x.p." which would yield PCs in the given level range (paladins and multi-class PCs being at the low end, druids and thieves at the high). Everything in the dungeon is scaled off this level range: the types of monsters used, the deadliness of traps present, and...most certainly...the amount of treasure to be found.

Scale is important. Reward should be commensurate with the degree of challenge faced by the players: too much treasure for too little challenge is too easy and leads to boredom and disenchantment, while too little treasure for too much challenge leads to frustration and resentment; both are undesirable. Your campaign will have adventure sites (i.e. "dungeons") scaled to various levels...some low-level, some high...but you must strive to be consistent with your scales. It is fine for high level adventurers to take on a low-level dungeon, wiping it out 'on a lark.' But they should find the takings therein to be of dubious value and not worth the energy expended. Likewise, it is just dandy to have high level "killer" dungeons in your game that players should (rightly) shun until they feel strong enough to tackle them...they provide incentives for their ambition with the promise of rich reward.

In practice, I've found that a 30 encounter adventure should yield (in total) treasure sufficient to advance PCs of the designated number and experience range one level. For determination of gold piece value needed, I always use the fighter advancement table.

For example: a 30 encounter dungeon scaled for 5 characters of levels 5th-7th should yield a total treasure of roughly 175,000 gold pieces in value. With regard to magic items, I look at their gold piece (i.e. sale) value for this calculation.

Dungeon of fewer or more encounter levels get proportionally less or more treasure. For example, one with 15 encounters would have only HALF the treasure (in gold piece value) needed to advance the party one level. Dungeons with 60 encounters would give players enough x.p. (in gold) to achieve TWO levels...which is probably not the same as just doubling the treasure amount. If that dungeon for five PCs of level 5th-7th had 60 encounters, it would need 450,000 g.p. because the amount of x.p. needed to get one fighter from 6th level to 8th is 90K, not 60K. 

Why do I scale based on 30 encounter areas? Time...real world, actual time. It takes time for players to play the game...to explore dungeons, to participate in combats. In practice, I find a rate of three to five encounters per solid hour of play to be average, with about 12 encounters being the practical (max) upper limit for a four hour play session (9-11 being more usual). Smaller groups of players can be more agile in their decision making, but larger groups of players have more resources to throw at encounters...speed at which players get through a dungeon is tied largely to experience (with the game) and group dynamics (leadership, organization). Also, DMs should understand that the longer a session goes on, the more resources are expended by the players, the fewer resources they have at their disposal, and the slower and more cautious they become.

So 30 encounter areas can take three to five game sessions to fully explore (depending on the quality of your players and the length of your game sessions). This could be a month or more of play depending on how often you run games (we'll talk scheduling in a later installment). And a couple more things to keep in mind:

1. It is rare for player to recover every last scrap of treasure from a dungeon. More than just "missing" things, players will tend to abandon a dungeon for greener pastures at some point...mainly because it feels "picked over" with too much challenge for too little reward remaining. And that's okay! We want players to have agency and letting them walk is a part of the AD&D game.
2. We (Dungeon Masters) want players to advance in level. It is an imperative for our game. Leveling up allows designers to expand the scope of what we do, breaking out bigger challenges, more ferocious monsters, more extravagant treasures. Allowing the PCs to level expands what we, DMs, can do with the game.

As far as scaling challenges/danger to players, this is as much an art form (refined in practice) as the distribution of treasure. With regard to traps and hazards, are you considering the player characters' ability to circumvent these things? It's not really appropriate to include half a dozen poison encounters when the party cleric is under 7th level (and thus has no access to neutralize poison). Stone to flesh is a spell only available to magic-users of 12th level so petrifaction becomes, effectively, a death sentence for mid-level parties...these are things to consider. Consider also potential hit points of PCs when assigning damage for traps: A 50' pit drop may not kill a 6th level fighter, but it can deplete hit points enough that another fight or two will finish the poor brute; damage accumulates over time, after all.

With regard to monsters and their placement, these will largely be determined by the scenario and setting you chose at the beginning. If the adventure involves invading a stone giant stronghold, the opponents will probably be stone giants (duh) and their pets and allies. This by itself should suggest the proper scale of the dungeon you're designing. It might sound cool to have the players sneak into the fortress of a lich or demon lord, but they're not going to be doing that before they hit double-digits in terms of level!

If you review the Dungeon Random Monster Level Determination Matrix on page 174 of the DMG, you'll see that every dungeon level has a particular range of "monster levels" (designated as 1-10, or I-X). When considering the scale of a dungeon, I use "equivalent level of the dungeon" the same as the average PC level of the adventure I'm designing. Thus, an adventure for 7th level PCs would see the bulk of their monster encounters come from charts IV-VI, with only few encounters being outside this range (and with reduced or increased numbers, depending on whether or not you're talking greater or lesser charts). Treasure types of monsters (given in the Monster Manual) can be key indicators for treasure distribution (both placement and amounts), and can serve as 'red flags' to the beginning dungeon designer.

[if I find myself creating a "slime themed" dungeon with all the monsters being puddings, jellies, and oozes, I'm going to have a pretty hard time justifying much in the way of treasure placement, for example]

These are the nuts-and-bolts of dungeon design, the elementary building block that is the foundation of the Dungeons & Dragons game. There are, of course, other types of adventure, but exploration of dangerous sites in pursuit of treasure is the MAIN form that game play takes in AD&D. Even the old Dragonlance modules, heavily railroaded story acs that they were, made sure to include at least one dungeon in each of their 14 published adventures. If you don't like exploring dungeon, well, there are a LOT of other RPGs on the market that are not called Dungeons & Dragons. 

We'll get into other types of adventures in a later post.