Back in my pre-teen years in the 80s (my era of "I need Gygax/TSR to tell me how to do this properly!") I would furiously tear through my Expert D&D and Dungeon Masters Guide looking for the rules for thirst and starvation. I mistakenly believed that I had somehow missed them while reading the rules; it couldn't be an omission, or else why would they have food and water in the equipment lists, nevermind Expert foraging & hunting rules?
Eventually "improved" editions of D&D included rules for such (and a million other) situations and I was satisfied... until I turned my back on such ways and returned to my youth with confidence and a DIY perspective.
Anyways, I'm editing together an OD&D rules & houserules booklet for my own game, and I decided to do some research on the rules for the OD&D-referenced Outdoor Survival Avalon Hill boardgame; although I was unable to find a PDF of the rules, I did find the following on Boardgamegeek:
Whoah... OD&D had rules for Thirst and Starvation from the very beginning...
BTW The numbers in the "Life Level Index" track seem to be the movement allowance; you run out of food and water? Good luck getting back to civilization...
(I love the icon for the 0 movement section of the track; new Blogspot avatar perhaps...)
BTW, does anyone have a PDF with the Outdoor Survival rules? Abandonware and all.
Showing posts with label wilderness adventure. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wilderness adventure. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Saturday, August 28, 2010
My Master/Meta Wilderness Encounter Table
This below is the "master" wilderness encounter table I use to determine which edition/game's wilderness encounter table I use to generate wilderness encounters in my Planet Algol game (it's usually just rudely wrote down on a piece of scrap):
1. Expert D&D
2. AD&D Fiend Folio
3. Empire of the Petal Throne
4. Arduin
5. Gamma World
6. Mutant Future
7. Carcosan Grimoire
8. Savage Swords of Athanor
I usually reroll or "re-skin" inappropriate results; for some reason my dice LOVE the Arduin result, which can have ....unfortunate... results.
1. Expert D&D
2. AD&D Fiend Folio
3. Empire of the Petal Throne
4. Arduin
5. Gamma World
6. Mutant Future
7. Carcosan Grimoire
8. Savage Swords of Athanor
I usually reroll or "re-skin" inappropriate results; for some reason my dice LOVE the Arduin result, which can have ....unfortunate... results.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
"Cacotopic Stain" Weather Generation Table
I can't believe I missed this the first time... (disclaimer: not actually related to the Cacotophic Stain)
Also, here's some suitably weird radiations.
Also, here's some suitably weird radiations.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
How I Handle Hexcrawling
Since there seems to be a lot of discussion and theory about the hows and whys of hexcrawling in the OSR community recently, I'd figure I provide my take on the subject.
I use a method basically cribbed from the Wilderlands, a numbered hexmap with a key listing settlements, ruins, dungeons, lairs, monsters, weirdness, and so forth. Most of my entries are fairly brief, if I don't already have a vivid mental picture of what the situation is when the adventurers stumble upon it I usually improvise (I'm a big fan of improvisation in D&D), or I may arbitrarily dice for what's there.
I use the movement rates, encounter frequency and getting lost rules from the 1st ed. AD&D DMG. If you can see a landmark, or you have traveled the same ways previously, you probably won't get lost. With 5 mile hexes landmarks work out to be pretty reliable, aside from especially tortuous or preternatural terrain.
With 5 mile hexes I find that although they make for maps that cover a smaller geographic area that a mounted party can practically zip about and makes the existing campaign world feel small, this does facilitate quickie or spontaneous adventures. And I find 5 mile hexes a nice compromise between describing too small a geographic area versus a "more granular" world, although as has been pointed out, a 5 mile hex of wilderness is actually a big chunk of land that could easily require a lot of time searching in order to find a hidden crypt, a dragon's lair, a witch's hut, or even a village.
I don't mind that fact, some things on my map are there to be accidentally stumbled upon, others are fairly prominent, such as towers, pyramids, and giant monsters. Without really, thinking about it, I generally categorize the items in my wilderness key into three groups:
- Things that are meant to be found/seen, such as a glowing crystal tower or a sprawling ruined city in an open terrain hex. Most large settlements, which would have several trails and simple roads in the surrounding hex, fall in this category. I many cases you can see such features in neighboring or even further hexes. Some monsters in the key fall in this category.
- Things that have a fair chance to be found. Dungeons entrances, monster lairs, typical ruins, and so forth. Most monster encounters in my wilderness key call in this category. If an random encounter occurs in such a hex, I dice (50%/50%) to see if a such a hex feature is the encounter, or I may just make an arbitrary dice roll, "If I get a 5 or a 6 they stumble across the crashed rocket in this hex." Also, the party encounters the feature if I feel it is likely, appropriate, or if I just feel like it. If the party is actively searching, it takes time depending on the terrain and conditions, and unless someone makes an abysmally low dice roll, they find it and have to waste more time looking before another check is made.
- Hidden things. Buried assassin hideouts, buried treasure, buried cities, invisible strongholds, reclusive psychic hermits, and so forth. Maybe there's a 5 or 10% chance (or even higher, as this is supposed to be pulp swords & sorcery adventure after all!) that the party finds it or it occurs as a random encounter. If the party is searching for the feature I determine the specifics depending on the conditions. If they have a map and a guide that are both reliable, than they'll probablly just find it. If they're searching a mountain hex for an invisible hut without anything to go on, they better bring all the provender they can carry and establish a base camp and supply lines.
Basically, it works out to me generally playing it by ear, which is contrary to the procedural method implied in a lot of early D&D material, a method that I certainly find myself fetishing to a certain degree, but the free-wheeling method seems to work for my players and I.
I use a method basically cribbed from the Wilderlands, a numbered hexmap with a key listing settlements, ruins, dungeons, lairs, monsters, weirdness, and so forth. Most of my entries are fairly brief, if I don't already have a vivid mental picture of what the situation is when the adventurers stumble upon it I usually improvise (I'm a big fan of improvisation in D&D), or I may arbitrarily dice for what's there.
I use the movement rates, encounter frequency and getting lost rules from the 1st ed. AD&D DMG. If you can see a landmark, or you have traveled the same ways previously, you probably won't get lost. With 5 mile hexes landmarks work out to be pretty reliable, aside from especially tortuous or preternatural terrain.
With 5 mile hexes I find that although they make for maps that cover a smaller geographic area that a mounted party can practically zip about and makes the existing campaign world feel small, this does facilitate quickie or spontaneous adventures. And I find 5 mile hexes a nice compromise between describing too small a geographic area versus a "more granular" world, although as has been pointed out, a 5 mile hex of wilderness is actually a big chunk of land that could easily require a lot of time searching in order to find a hidden crypt, a dragon's lair, a witch's hut, or even a village.
I don't mind that fact, some things on my map are there to be accidentally stumbled upon, others are fairly prominent, such as towers, pyramids, and giant monsters. Without really, thinking about it, I generally categorize the items in my wilderness key into three groups:
- Things that are meant to be found/seen, such as a glowing crystal tower or a sprawling ruined city in an open terrain hex. Most large settlements, which would have several trails and simple roads in the surrounding hex, fall in this category. I many cases you can see such features in neighboring or even further hexes. Some monsters in the key fall in this category.
- Things that have a fair chance to be found. Dungeons entrances, monster lairs, typical ruins, and so forth. Most monster encounters in my wilderness key call in this category. If an random encounter occurs in such a hex, I dice (50%/50%) to see if a such a hex feature is the encounter, or I may just make an arbitrary dice roll, "If I get a 5 or a 6 they stumble across the crashed rocket in this hex." Also, the party encounters the feature if I feel it is likely, appropriate, or if I just feel like it. If the party is actively searching, it takes time depending on the terrain and conditions, and unless someone makes an abysmally low dice roll, they find it and have to waste more time looking before another check is made.
- Hidden things. Buried assassin hideouts, buried treasure, buried cities, invisible strongholds, reclusive psychic hermits, and so forth. Maybe there's a 5 or 10% chance (or even higher, as this is supposed to be pulp swords & sorcery adventure after all!) that the party finds it or it occurs as a random encounter. If the party is searching for the feature I determine the specifics depending on the conditions. If they have a map and a guide that are both reliable, than they'll probablly just find it. If they're searching a mountain hex for an invisible hut without anything to go on, they better bring all the provender they can carry and establish a base camp and supply lines.
Basically, it works out to me generally playing it by ear, which is contrary to the procedural method implied in a lot of early D&D material, a method that I certainly find myself fetishing to a certain degree, but the free-wheeling method seems to work for my players and I.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
The Sandbox as Megadungeon
While fretting about the lack of a Planet Algol campaign megadungeon and reflecting on the carnage of the previous session, I was struck by the realization that in the case of my campaign the sandbox is the megadungeon. I have certainly read theory regarding that subject in the past, but now it was real...
My intention wasn't to make a hexmap, outdoor megadungeon, but instead to ape previous efforts such as the original Wilderlands, Carcosa, and so forth in order to create a sandbox to run an old school D&D game in. However, once the mechanics of wilderness adventuring (especially the rules for getting lost) started coming into play and the players got in the swing of the sandbox, it started feeling, for me, very dungeony.
It's interesting to note that the map for a text-based adventure game or MUDD would look the same regardless of whether it was of a dungeon or an outdoor area. That's what's happening with me. Dungeon, Wilderness, they're just labels. They both contain monsters, treasures, traps, tricks, potential allies, M.A.R. Barker-esque "Saturday Night Specials," parties of adventurers can get lost and die in both of them, etc.
"But...the Megadungeon is the Mythic Underworld!" You exclaim, "that's what differentiates it from wilderness and lairs!"
My campaign was designed from the very start to function as an outdoor analogue of the Mythic Underworld. The planet, the solar system, history, the races, are designed to be weird, irrational, unpredictable, dangerous. To quote from Philotomy's OD&D Musings:
My intention wasn't to make a hexmap, outdoor megadungeon, but instead to ape previous efforts such as the original Wilderlands, Carcosa, and so forth in order to create a sandbox to run an old school D&D game in. However, once the mechanics of wilderness adventuring (especially the rules for getting lost) started coming into play and the players got in the swing of the sandbox, it started feeling, for me, very dungeony.
It's interesting to note that the map for a text-based adventure game or MUDD would look the same regardless of whether it was of a dungeon or an outdoor area. That's what's happening with me. Dungeon, Wilderness, they're just labels. They both contain monsters, treasures, traps, tricks, potential allies, M.A.R. Barker-esque "Saturday Night Specials," parties of adventurers can get lost and die in both of them, etc.
"But...the Megadungeon is the Mythic Underworld!" You exclaim, "that's what differentiates it from wilderness and lairs!"
My campaign was designed from the very start to function as an outdoor analogue of the Mythic Underworld. The planet, the solar system, history, the races, are designed to be weird, irrational, unpredictable, dangerous. To quote from Philotomy's OD&D Musings:
"Some common characteristics and philosophies for a mythic underworld dungeon (keep these in mind when creating your dungeon):I believe that the above points would also apply to a good fantasy campaign world as well...
- It's big, and has many levels; in fact, it may be endless
- It follows its own ecological and physical rules
- It is not static; the inhabitants and even the layout may grow or change over time
- It is not linear; there are many possible paths and interconnections
- There are many ways to move up and down through the levels
- Its purpose is mysterious or shrouded in legend
- It's inimical to those exploring it
- Deeper or farther levels are more dangerous
- It's a (the?) central feature of the campaign"
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Exploration and the death of the Hexmap
Dungeons & Dragons is a game of exploration. Or it was a game of exploration, before the railways began offering guided tours. It used to be that you would plunge into a howling wilderness, blindly crawling through the hexes in search of your goals. Nowadays you follow the trail of macguffins from setpiece to setpiece.
As an aside, I love it when I'm playing a computer/console RPG and I end up totally outflanking the plotline via an open world and my own curiosity. Kill the bad guy? I already iced the bastard when I found a sinister castle in the woods and slew him an account of his sinister vibes and possible treasure.
That's not going to happen in a "contemporary" adventure. You won't need to load up the pack mules with food, water and blank hex-parchments in order to find the Lost Temple of the Toad-Wizard, you just need to pass a skill challenge.
One of my favorites aspects of old adventure fiction is the "expedition" aspect. The equipment inventory in Journey to the Center of the Earth. The survival plans of a band of castaway shipwreck survivors. The battle with a hostile alien wilderness in The Walls of Eryx. The man versus mountain battle to the summit of Stardock.
It makes the Boy Scout in my blood howl for adventure. It makes me want to load a backpack with rope, rations, canteens, maps and tools and strike out into the forests seeking ruins.
Oldschool wilderness adventuring was a gamble. You hope you find something worthwhile before nature and wandering monsters takes too dear a toll. You seek out rumors, maps and guides if you're smart. But even then it's not a sure thing. You could always get hopelessly lost and stumble into the lair of an ancient red dragon.
And I'm fine with that, a reward is worthless without risk.
I was not happy when "the hobby" started ditching hexmaps. Sure "real maps" are prettier and "more realistic." But I don't need to be fucking around with a ruler and a map to calculate how far the party travels in a day.
Hexmaps are excellent. They abstract distance and terrain into manageable chunks without breaking the illusion. And they facilitate capital-A Adventure. Those hexes beg to be filled with ruins, lairs and general strangeness. They encourage the DM to place awesome eastern egss in random corners of the wilderness. They allow the party the freedom to do what they want instead of helping the DM with a story.
Another computer/console games aside, I can't play video games that aren't "open world." Bioshock is beautiful and fun, but I throw up in my mouth when confronted with the railroad. I'm a free man goddammit, I seek adventure on my own damn terms. And the open world makes me want to explore.
Hexmaps were thrown out by the industry in order to facilitate the "fantasy pornography" of artistic, beautiful maps. Maps that serve as a mere backdrop for the adventure instead of being a crucial part of adventure. Or even the adventure itself.
Hexmaps were thrown away as they were rendered useless by the setpiece railroads. Entitled heroes with a destiny to save the world shouldn't waste their time getting lost in the swamp and contacting malaria. Or die of dehydration in the desert.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)