Redirecting the Imperial Fist

As I've mentioned a couple of times, I'm not 100% happy with the way that the "Star Wars: Imperial Fist" campaign has begun. It's been okay... but that's about all. After the success of "The Eberron Code" and the one-shot, I'd gone into this one with high hopes, and thus far I'm just not feeling it. So, I think a little tinkering is called for, in the hope that that will help unleash the potential of the campaign a bit better.

Now, the first thing I need to do is identify the issues that I think are apparent in the campaign. Before I do so, it's important to note that this isn't a finger-pointing exercise - one of the issues is to do with the set of Player Characters in the campaign, but that's not because they're at fault; rather, it's because those particular characters don't mesh with the campaign I had envisaged and had, thus far, been running. The consequence of this is that the campaign needs to shift to better fit those characters, rather than any alternative.

As far as I can tell, there are two key issues with the campaign:

The Player Characters

Nominally, we have a group of four players. However, one of these four has attended only one of the four sessions to date. For each of the other times, there has been a reason for the absence, so it may reasonably be hoped that this may be a non-issue. For the moment, however, I have to plan assuming that the other three characters represent the core of the group.

Of the other PCs, one is very much a 'grunt'. I had thought that the more detailed background the player gave might indicate an interest in some things, but this hasn't really been borne out - the character seems to just want to find things to shoot. That's fair enough. Indeed, in some ways that's a boon, since such a character is easy to satisfy.

A second PC is very much a 'comic relief' character - a monolingual Jawa mechanic. Again, this isn't inherently problematic since the character isn't actually disruptive and the player seems happy to follow on with whatever storyline unfolds. So that's good.

But...

What that means is that a great deal of the heavy lifting for the plot falls onto the fourth PC - a Rodian smuggler. The only real problem there is that the concept of the campaign was that these characters would be dealing fairly extensively with the Imperial society, and that society is xenophobic.

So, if our characters are an Imperial who (at least for now) cannot be considered a certainty, an Imperial 'grunt' with little interest in the investigative side of the campaign, the comic relief, and a Rodian who is not ideally suited to dealing with Imperial society... it's just not a great fit.

(At this point, I could lament that if only that one player could be counted on, then it would all be fine. But there's little point in dealing in "if onlys". Better to deal with things as they are now, while I have some time to make the necessary changes.)

The Central Plot

In one of my stupider moments, I set up a central mystery for the plot, seeded a few clues, and let it run. The central mystery is leading up to the shock revelation that... (spoilers) the Emperor himself is a Force-user! (gasp!)

Um, yeah. There's a reason that same revelation didn't have any impact in "Revenge of the Sith". Maybe next I'll reveal that Darth Vader is secretly Luke's father!

So...

I think I have the core of a fix worked out. It has three parts:

1. Pretty quickly make is apparent to both the PCs and their powers-that-be that there is something brewing in the underbelly of the galaxy that the Imperial Navy is poorly placed to investigate officially.
   
2. Putting the PCs on detached duty, allowing them to fly around the sector of the galaxy without oversight, charged with finding out what is going on and stopping it (or at least reporting back so that Daala and the Restorer can stop it).
   
3. Replacing the central mystery of the campaign with something that is an actual revelation.

I believe that will probably improve the campaign: it should replace the slightly-awkward interactions with Imperial society with much more natural interactions with scum & villainy, while retaining the underlying premise of the campaign. It will also fit the Imperial Officer character, without the potential group issue should the party just run off. Finally, the 'grunt' should be happy in having things to kill - they're just slightly different things than I had previously expected.

At least, that's the plan. It's possible, of course, that it just won't work out at all.

Now... I just need a new central mystery. I really don't know what I was thinking.

Still Stuck With Sabra

Saturday was our "Christmas Game", which once again was a "Serenity RPG" one-shot. And, as discussed previously, I once again used the crew of Betty, the ship from "Alien: Resurrection", as the PCs. It worked very well, despite us having a no-show that reduced us to four players.

However, the one thing that still doesn't feel quite right is the character of Sabra Hillard - the pilot. In the one-shot this was fine as, with six characters and fewer players, I could simply hold back that character. Any of the other five made for a fine choice, and each of the four who were chosen had a chance to shine in the story as presented. (The fifth character also had some opportunities present - at no point did the PCs sneak into the admin block in the facility, something at which Call would have excelled.)

But Sabra is difficult. In the film, we know three things about her: she's the pilot, she's the captain's lover, and she dies while swimming. She's not the captain, the badass merc, Ron Perlman, the sneaky hacker with a dark secret, or the funny mechanic in a wheelchair. All the other characters has a fun 'hook' that the player is likely to grab on to and run with. Sabra just... doesn't.

I've now got a year before the next one-shot featuring this crew, and it's likely I'll be converting them to the "Firefly RPG" in the interim. Plus, the next story should suit this character a little better than this one did, as it's civilisation-bound rather than set in a prison.

Still, it would be good to find some idea of how better to use this one...

Fixing Grapple

There are two areas of the 3e rules that invariably cause people grief. One of these is attacks of opportunity, which are mostly fine apart from one thing: the table of actions that causes an AoO. The other, which causes grief in so many games, is Grappling.

Grappling is a real nuisance because it both comes up so rarely and because it requires a slew of special rules to deal with. There are two conditions (grappled and pinned), there's a special list of actions you can and can't take in each case, and then there's the rules for starting and ending grapples themselves.

I've just had something of an epiphany that I think might help, in a similar way to my previous fix for Turn Undead.

So, here goes:

Grapple check: Rather than having a special check, with a set of special rules and modifiers to consider (and probably not record until it's needed), turn this into a skill, called Grapple. The special size modifiers for grapple apply as normal (for now, though as for Hide these really should be eliminated). This is a class skill for any class with a good BAB - that is, the Fighter, Paladin, Cleric, Barbarian; and also the Monk. (This would be rolled into Athletics in a 4e-like system.)

To initiatiate a Grapple: you must have at least one hand free. Make a melee touch attack (that provokes an AoO). If this succeeds, you begin the grapple. Grappling characters move into the same space, and lose their Dex bonuses to AC.

To "do something" in a Grapple (that is: end it, cause damage, disarm your opponent, move, cast a spell...), make an opposed Grapple check as a move action.

And that's basically it. The truth is that this doesn't actually change things all that much - all it really does is switch Grapple checks to a skill and narrows down the huge range of special cases down to a single clause. But that's probably a worthwhile goal in itself. Plus, this new rule is simple enough that it should be possible to remember all the details in one go, without having to consult the book in some detail on those rare occasions when it actually comes up.

It does, however, have the slightly nasty consequence that a character who was previously good at Grapple before (such as a Fighter) now has to spend skill points to get the same benefit. That may not be a good thing.

The NPC Summary

Some ages ago, I did a post on three DMing tricks, in which I repeated three tricks I had adopted: "Five Things You Know About...", the use of bullet points for setting a scene, and the Three-Clue Rule.

I was recently given cause to consider the 'best' way to present an NPC for an adventure. Which, somehow, led me back to the same place.

Now, I should note at the outset that I'm not talking about the mechanical representation of a character here, which will inevitably vary from game to game. Instead, I'm talking about those things that are non-mechanical in nature - the character's appearance, motivations, personality quirks, and so on.

So, what is the best way to present this information?

Well, I think the key consideration lies in how it is going to be used. Normally, the GM will read the adventure once to glean the key information, and then will run the adventure at the table. In an ideal world, he will have taken the time to transcribe all the key information into a more useful format, but this should not be assumed.

When the time comes to use the NPC in play, the GM is quite possibly juggling half a dozen different things at once - he really doesn't want to have to read through 500 words of purple prose just to learn that the NPC is left-handed!

So, really, what is needed is some sort of short and to the point summary of the key details. Something where key points are pulled out, and extraneous information is not included. And, of course, there should be a small and manageable number of such points. Five, perhaps.

Additionally, the more important something is, the sooner it should be listed; and the more obvious something is to the PCs, the sooner it should be introduced.

So, yeah, my suggestion for adventure writers, when presenting an NPC, is to first provide a "Five Things" list for the NPC. The points should probably be:

• The character's expected role in the adventure.
• What the character is doing, how he is trying to do it, and why he is doing it (that way).
• The character's appearance, in broad terms.
• Any quirks or mannerisms the character has, in terms of appearance, personality, verbal tics, or whatever. This may require several points.
• And, finally, an optional list of suitable adjectives.

After presenting the summary, and especially for 'key' NPCs, it may well be appropriate to provide a longer description of the character, split down into the key categories (background, appearance, personality, etc...). However, this should be in addition to the summary, not instead. This may seem redundant, since the information is then repeated, but what is lost in repetition is gained in utility, which is a net win.

(As an added bonus, the use of the summary should mean that NPCs can be transcribed onto index cards, with the character's name and picture, game stats, and the summary notes all right there on the card for easy reference. Which is probably useful.)

For an example of what I mean:

Kup - Grizzled Veteran

• Kup fills the 'mentor' role in the story - he sees it as his job to guide the hero to his ultimate destiny.
• Kup tries to guide the hero to his destiny, by keeping him safe from the worst consequences of his mistakes, by acting as a calming influence, and by trying to be a positive role model. He does this because he has seen one to many would-be hero kill himself in a blaze of stupidity.
• Kup is old, and he shows it. He has a slight stoop and his joints creak when pressed. All his equipment is likewise old, but it remains serviceable due to high quality and regular maintenance.
• Everything reminds Kup of something else. All his stories start, "I remember the time..."
• Suitable adjectives: Old, Crotchety, Curmudgeonly, Stern.

And there it is. The GM almost certainly doesn't need to know the exact details of Kup's adventures with the shrikebats of Dromedon, unless it is directly related to this adventure, so it's as well to leave that a blank. That's one key advantage that an RPG has over a novel - there's a GM on hand to fill in any gaps. And, indeed, it may be better if the GM is deliberately given room to leave his own stamp on the adventures or the characters - not least because he might prefer to replace Kup with Ironhide for the purposes of this story, a process that is made easier if the whole thing isn't impossibly tightly woven...

Games for Next Year

As the year draws to a close, and with the last 'regular' session of the year done, my thoughts inevitably turn to two things: the "Christmas Game" and the games for next year. This year's Christmas Game is, once again, a Serenity RPG one-shot titled "Bound by Law" - I'll no doubt post about that again before the end of the year, possibly before the event, and then once again as a wash-up/retrospective.

However, it is the games for next year that are my immediate topic.

As per usual, next year is likely to see me running one campaign and a number of one-shots. Due to the way the calendar falls, it's likely that I'll finish off my current campaign but will not start on a new venture (although I'm prepared for that eventuality also). I'm also hoping to play in a few games next year, as I've barely had a chance this year. However, that will depend both on there being suitable games to play, and also on my schedule being kind.

Naturally, the bulk of my gaming for next year will be in my ongoing campaign, barring a Total Party Kill or other collapse. And, as mentioned before, that campaign is "Star Wars: Imperial Fist". My impressions of the campaign so far have been somewhat mixed, as I think the group of PCs may be more suited to a different direction. So, I'm considering my options there. My plan, I think, is to see what happens with the player base in the next session or so - we may end up with five, four, or three regular players, in various combinations, and the exact configuration will probably dictate a particular direction. I'll be musing on this some more in the coming weeks.

I also have three one-shots provisionally scheduled for next year. (We had five scheduled for this year, but it's very likely we'll actually play three of those.)

The first of these is a third, and final, attempt to schedule the "Black Crusade: A Lament for Lustivan" game. This will be the second time I've run "Black Crusade", and will give me another opportunity to assess if I like it or not. I hope it goes well, both because it has been cancelled so many times now, and also because I'd really like "Black Crusade" to get a permanent spot on my roster of games. (Also, my next campaign is expected to be a run through of the "Hand of Corruption" adventure for that system, albeit in a heavily modified form.)

The second one-shot will be a second "World of Darkness" one-shot entitled "Ultraviolet: 2XS". The previous one-shot with this game was actually the single best game I have run for many years, partly due to a strong and interesting concept, partly because of the system, and largely because of an excellent mix of players. I'm hoping this second run will likewise be good.

Finally, there is the Christmas Game for next year, entitled "Firefly: Inglorious". As the name implies, this will be run using the "Firefly RPG" that is due out in February, which is effectively a second edition of the "Serenity RPG" that we've enjoyed so much. My big hope here is that the new game is as much fun as the old, but that the new system corrects my issues with "Serenity" - I would quite like to run a campaign in The 'Verse, but don't feel the existing system is really up to the task.

In all three cases, I think I've got fairly strong concepts for the game. And two of the three, at least, are amongst our most popular games - the "Warhammer" games and the "Serenity RPG" always manage to attract interest. The "Ultraviolet" game is a little more dicey, but as it is based on a well-remembered, albeit rather niche, TV show, it could do well. I guess we'll see!

One Thing That Bugs Me

Much as I really like "Star Wars Saga Edition", there's one thing that really bugs me. In fairness to the game, it's something that was ported over directly from the "Revised Core Rulebook" (essentially, the 2nd edition of SW d20), and it's something that just about every game that features the particular element does.

Consider for a moment Red Squadron from Star Wars. We have:

• Red Leader, Garven Dreis, in an X-wing
• Red Two, Wedge Antillies, in an X-wing
• Red Three, Biggs Darklighter, in an X-wing
• Red Five, Luke Skywalker, in an X-wing
• Red Six, Jek Porkins, in an X-wing

and also Reds Four, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, and Twelve, all in X-wings. According to Wookieepedia they all have names, but since they're never named in the film I've not listed them here.

Now, if we consider one of those characters:

Luke Skywalker in an X-wing

Obviously, different games have different requirements, but in the context of a roleplaying game, and assuming Luke is the PC, which is more important: Luke, or the X-wing?

Personally, I'd argue that the answer to that is pretty clear: it's Luke. The X-wing is just a bit of equipment, no more important to the story than Lancelot's sword or Aragorn's belt.

But in Saga Edition, when Luke climbs into the X-wing, what happens is that he uses the fixed set of statistics for the X-wing, slightly modified by Luke's Pilot skill, his Base Attack Bonus, and a couple of other statistics. In the game, it is the X-wing that is by far the dominant element when determining the whole.

Crucially, Luke Skywalker in an X-wing has exactly the same number of hit points as Red Seven in his X-wing. And Red Seven is so low-level he doesn't even have a name! What this means is that the scene shown in the films just doesn't work in the game. In the film, most of the X-wings are horribly fragile - Porkins, Biggs, and all the unnamed Reds are killed with a single hit each, Red Leader and Wedge each survive a single hit (with Red Leader killed by the second), while Luke survives two hits and carries on to the target. (Presumably, Luke would have been killed by a third hit.)

In the game, the X-wings are all equally tough. Meaning that those unnamed Reds are equally likely to survive that first hit as Luke is, and Luke is actually extremely unlikely to survive two hits from the standard TIE fighter.

As far as I can see, a better approach to the problem would be to consider the X-wing to be a simple template that gets applied to a character when he steps inside - it gives a certain amount of damage reduction, a certain shield rating, various weapons, and a movement rate (and maneuverability class). That way, Red Seven, being a 1st level non-heroic character, has about 6 hit points, while Luke Skywalker, level 4 Jedi, has about 50 - it's no wonder he survives rather longer!

Unfortunately, there's rather a lot of work involved in rewriting "Starships of the Galaxy" in light of such a change, so I think I'll pass!

The Occasional Campaign

Several years ago, I ran my first "one-shot showcase" game, which I think was probably the Serenity RPG. The goal at that time was to give a bit of exposure to a game that people might like but that I wasn't sue would garner enough interest for a full campaign.

Over the years since then, I've run quite a few such games in various systems. I've learned quite a lot about the process of putting together a one-shot game, but I've also narrowed my list of potential candidates down quite sharply, with only four games now sitting on my 'one-shot' list.

I've also run each of these four at least once, and have my second run of both "Black Crusade" and "World of Darkness" planned for next year. That being the case, it's not really a "showcase" any more - I know the interest is there, people know at least a bit about the system; it's just a question of whether to proceed to a 'full' campaign or not.

And, actually, the answer to that is mostly "not". Obviously, I'm currently running a "Star Wars" campaign, but both "Serenity" and "Black Crusade" have some significant issues that prevent me taking the plunge, while "World of Darkness" is a much more niche concern, popularity wise (despite being the system used in the single best game I've run in recent years). It's unlikely that any of these will ever be 'promoted' to a full campaign (though it would be nice if the forthcoming "Firefly" RPG changed that).

Having said that, I do have a... notion tickling the back of my mind.

Some time ago, I did a short series of posts detailing the crew of "Betty" for the Serenity RPG. I used that crew for my "Firefly: Furiously Fast" one-shot, and am intending to reuse the same characters for this year's Christmas Game, "Serenity: Bound by Law". And I've also pencilled in next year's Christmas Game, "Firefly: Inglorious", which will use the same characters. In each case, the one-shot background makes some limited reference to the previous adventures, although the games themselves will not assume that prior knowledge.

Likewise, for my "Heresy of Angels" one-shot for "Black Crusade", I put together a set of characters that I intend to reuse for "A Lament for Lustivan" (if it ever happens), and will probably reuse after that. Again, the adventure backgrounds will feature some common elements, but the adventures won't make any assumption of prior knowledge.

And, finally, I think I've hit on a format for my "World of Darkness" one-shots, which will be modelled heavily on the old "Ultraviolet" TV series. Like the "Black Crusade" one-shots, this will use a common set of characters, with missions being assigned by an NPC as required (thus getting the PCs up to speed and involved quickly).

This has the big advantage of cutting down on the amount of unique preparation work I have to do to put together a one-shot game. It also has the advantage of building a scene quickly for returning players - they know what happened last time, and so can slot back into place with a minimum of fuss (albeit with the oddity that they may not have the same character!).

All of which is good so far. But it has another hidden advantage. Both the "Black Crusade" and "World of Darkness" setups are explicitly mission-based, with characters being assigned their tasks by either Lord Maleceros or Michael Colefield. Meanwhile Firefly/Serenity, by its nature, is inherently episodic - and has no great difficulty in simply telling the players where they are at the start of the 'episode'.

What this means is that there's no great need to stick rigidly to the old one-shot formula (with sessions booked months in advance, games being pretty detailed, and everything tightly wrapped up in 5-6 hours of solid play). Instead, if I find myself between campaigns but looking to host a game, I could quickly put something together, put out the call, and run a short mini-series (say 3 sessions across 5 weeks) in one of the games. And, with three different options to choose from, there's no risk of "continuity glitches" if I happen to have a mini-series occurring at the same time as a one-shot.

It at least opens up some interesting possibilities.

Now, I just need to do two things. I need to put together a team of four for the "World of Darkness" series (one cop, one spec-ops/merc, one doctor, and one priest). And I need to build up a bank of easy-to-populate adventure outlines...

Closing the Door

The "Star Wars: Imperial Fist" campaign I started a couple of months ago has had an open spot since it began a couple of months ago. After tonight, the campaign will be going on a brief hiatus over Christmas, and resuming on the 21st of January. Everything going as planned, that session will also mark the start of the second 'adventure' in the campaign, and so represents an ideal jumping-on point for a new player.

I've been giving the matter some thought, and I've decided that that first session in January will be the last opportunity for someone new to join the campaign. After that point, we'll switch to a 'closed' table for the remainder of the campaign. It's just easier for me to plan if I know the group of players (and characters) that I am working with.

On another topic, it looks like the Christmas Game this year may be busy - one player has already signed up, and the further three have expressed a strong interest in the game. Which is all to the good, the ideal would be to have a 'full' crew of 6 players, though that actually can't happen - we don't have enough seats! (Which is itself a nice problem to have.)

Adventure Wherever They Go

One thing I noted when reading through the Conan, Elric, and Fafhrd and Grey Mouser stories was that the lead characters would quite often appear to wander quite aimlessly around their world, and wherever they went they would just happen to find adventure. Now, of course, a lot of that's inevitable - nobody wants to read "Fafhrd goes to the marketplace; he buys groceries; nothing much really happens."

But then, in an RPG, one can assume that the players likewise would much rather play "Bazaar of the Bizarre" than "Fafhrd goes shopping"! So, it's not completely irrelevant. And, in terms of campaign design at least, there's a name for that sort of thing: the sandbox. The GM provides a map, populates it will all manner of adventures, and the PCs get to wander around having their adventures.

However, I'm also inclined to think it has some relevance to adventure design as well, especially when dealing with one-shots, an especially with town- or wilderness-based adventures (rather than dungeon crawls). The thing is, it's not really practical for the GM to expect to specify the entirety of a small town for an adventure, or a research installation, or even a WH40k starship - they're just too big, especially for only a few hours of game time.

But what the GM can reasonably do is, when laying out his adventure location, highlight the key locations in a place, and prepare some event related to the adventure that occurs at each one. Other areas should be sketched in in broad terms ("the noble quarter is here, there are warehouses over here..."), with the option of more specific locations being marked when the players realise their significance. This has the advantage of flagging to the players, "you might want to look here", to avoid wasting their time, and it also helps any investigation along because until they've at least checked out all the key locations, they can't really get stuck.

Of course, that all seems a bit fake. And, indeed, it is - it's very much of the "the GM wouldn't mention it unless it was important" school of meta-gaming. But there seems to be a tendency in adventures (as evidenced in that first Numenera one-shot) for towns to be lovingly-detailed with fifty empty locales named - a tavern, a marketplace, several shops... all with "nothing to see here". The players are left to spin their wheels, because they can't see the three relevant trees in the forest. Which is already problematic, but when your entire projected play-time is 5 hours, it's even worse. So, cut it down to the essentials, and make sure that pretty much anything the players do "on-script" has some relevance to the story.

Incidentally, that may seem like a form of that "Chekhov's Gun" behaviour I complained about in my previous post. It's actually the opposite, though: in the CG example, every location that is to be detailed must be required for the plot, where here the locations are only relevant to the plot - they may or may not be encountered.

For example, if three locations are detailed (A, B, and C) and they're all required, then the only decision lies in the order to hit them. There are thus six possible plots: ABC, ACB, BAC, BCA, CAB, or CBA. However, if the same three locations are detailed and they're all relevant, then there are sixteen possible combinations: A, AB, ABC, AC, ACB, B, BA, BAC, BC, BCA, C, CA, CAB, CB, CBA, or none.

Of course, in the base town for a campaign, you wouldn't want to be so restrictive. If the PCs are going to spend a lot of time in a place, you'll want many more locations, several of which they visit regularly, and many of which will simply be irrelevant to the adventure at hand. So I'm not suggesting some universal truth here!

One more thing: the players should probably take some hand in this as well. Instead of just saying "we go to...", they can really help but saying what they're expecting to do there. Those expectations may or may not be confounded, but they're still useful - "we go to the market to pick up groceries" makes for a very different scene from "we go to the market because I need to contact the thieves' guild". By flagging that to the GM, they allow him to skip over a whole load of irrelevant detail, and lets everyone just get on with things. Or not, if they prefer.

How Did They Get So Bad?

Warning: this one kind of gets away from me somewhere in the middle. In particular, I think the bit about Chekhov's Gun is getting at quite a good point, but doesn't necessarily make it very well. Plus, I think I've said much of this before...

After the game on Sunday, we spent some time discussing the adventure, and the weaknesses that it showed in actual play. Such as the PCs lacking in motivation to actually get involved, the 'blocks' put into the adventure where one bad roll can derail the whole thing, and so forth.

So, the question: how did published adventures get to be so bad? Was it always thus?

Personally, I'm inclined to identify the publication of "Ravenloft" as the key moment. It's not that it's a bad adventure; on the contrary, it is one of the best that has ever been published. However, what Ravenloft marked was a point where adventures shifted from providing locations in which to set adventures to providing stories in which PCs could have their adventures. Now, there's obviously nothing wrong with stories, and there's a fair amount that adventure design can learn from storytelling techniques.

But an RPG adventure is not a novel, and cannot be structured like one. And I think that's a key mistake that too many adventure writers make.

Adventures to be read, not run

I get the distinct impression that a lot of adventures are intended to be read, rather than to be run. Thus, they have a distinct story-like structure, with a clear beginning, middle and end; they support only a small number of PC paths through the story (sometimes as few as one); they presuppose key PC motivations, and sometimes actions; and so on.

Now, in fairness, it's important to note that any adventure's first test will always be in the reading - unless I can wade through the text, I'm never actually going to run it, so if it plays well but reads like a VCR manual, it's useless. And it doesn't really help that many (if not most) reviews are done on the basis of a read-through rather than a play-through - so an adventure that has some fun looking encounters and some good ideas, and has clear text, will score extremely highly even if actual play throws up major issues.

(It also doesn't help that a lot of reviews are also skewed by the names involved - an adventure is likely to review better if it has the name "Monte Cook" on the cover than one without, for example; while the 4e D&D adventures actually review pretty well despite being almost universally awful. But that's another rant.)

But one of the glorious things about RPGs, that sets them apart from reading novels, watching films, or even playing other types of games, is that you can't assume PC actions. Most likely, they'll go off in some direction you didn't expect, or spend a lot of time meandering about. Which plays merry hell with your lovely three-act structure, and can really mess with your pacing. Just as not every novel adapts well to film, so too do many adventures fail to play out the way they're written.

The Logical Leap

Probably the place where the difference between adventure-as-story and adventure-as-game becomes most apparent lies in the use of mysteries. The thing is, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle can have Sherlock Holmes solve a complex and convoluted mystery based on the nuance of a half-heard conversation and a bit of fluff, because SACD has full control over making sure his character has access to all those clues, and also has perfect insight into what they mean.

The writer of an adventure module simply cannot assume that. Not only can't he assume that the players will even overhear that conversation at all, but he cannot be sure that the GM will present it exactly as written (so that the nuance is even present). Nor can he be sure that the players will pick up on the meaning of it all - in fact, most likely, they won't.

What this means (as discussed at great length previously, and elsewhere) is that the adventure designer really must insert loads of redundant clues into his mystery. So many, in fact, that on a read-through it will seem like a really lame mystery - if you've got three clues all pointing to "the Baron's a bad guy!" then that's hardly a revelation! And yet, that's pretty much what is required.

(In fact, I'd go further than that. In addition to putting lots of clues in place, the adventure designer should also tag every clue with the mystery to which it is attached, as a reminder to the GM, but also so that they can be sure they can recheck their working later. Which will make it read like an incredibly lame mystery.)

The Red Herring

Don't. Just don't.

Chekhov's Gun

I think this is a big one, and a big mistake for an adventure writer.

Anton Chekhov said, "Remove everything that has no relevance to the story. If you say in the first chapter that there is a rifle hanging on the wall, in the second or third chapter it absolutely must go off. If it's not going to be fired, it shouldn't be hanging there."

For a script-writer, this makes sense. Cutting superfluous detail just makes for a better story - it's tighter, it is more likely to hold the audience's attention, and it's probably much more effective at making its point.

But for the adventure writer, it is absolutely poisonous, at least if taken literally. See, it gives rise to the temptation to remove everything that doesn't fit your pre-determined narrative - that beginning-middle-end structure you have envisaged. So, you cut the number of clues for your mysteries down to the absolute minimum, because more is just redundant. You cut out all those extraneous encounters that sit on your non-prime paths through the adventure. And, once done you have the 'perfect' adventure... provided your players are four clones of yourself, and provided they follow the exact path from encounter A, through B, C, D, and E, and on to the final confrontation with your BBEG at encounter F. Huzzah!

But then we sit Andrew, Mark, Jill, and me down at the table, fail to equip us with the helm of reading Monte's mind, and expect it all to work out. But of course it doesn't, because after encounter A we wander around for an age, miss the clues in C and D, don't ever get to B... and end up just lost.

And Another Thing...

Protagonists in novels and films are forever getting themselves captured, or infected, or otherwise into scrapes. Naturally, adventure writers want to include much the same in their adventures. That's railroading, of course, but I'm not convinced it's the worst thing in the world. But...

The writer of an adventure needs to be very careful about including such events, for two reasons.

The first of these is that events like captures or infections are very hard to engineer if played 'fairly', and run a very significant risk of alienating players if they are made inescapable. The issue is one of control: the GM has absolute control over every single thing in the game, with only one exception. Conversely, the player has control over only one single thing in the entire game - his character. Enforcing a capture, or infection, or whatever, removes that control, which some players will find utterly and completely unacceptable - possibly to the point of walking out of the game over it.

Now, this is a place where a game like Serenity or Numenera has a distinct advantage - here, the game builds in various storytelling mechanisms, where the GM can basically say, "this is a plot point - just go with it." And, in return for doing so, for accepting the intrusion, the player is rewarded with XP or plot points, or whatever, which they can then trade in later for narrative control of their own. It's not a perfect solution, but it seems to work pretty well.

The second reason it's a problem, though, is that if you have a truly mandatory event in your adventure, whether a capture, infection, or actually anything else, you've created a bottleneck in your design - every path in the adventure must either lead up to that point or must lead away from that point. That's easy said, but not easily done - directing PCs is much like herding cats, and it's really hard to make sure every path leads through your bottleneck without it being obvious what you're doing.

So... How to Fix It?

Unfortunately, I don't think there's an answer for that. Published adventures are both low-margin and, actually, low-use things - even those of us who buy lots of adventures will read many more than we ever play. And there's no magic formula that will make for a good adventure, both to read and to play.

Ultimately, I fear it's going to come down to GMs doing a fairly large amount of leg-work - taking an adventure that may be good to read, and refitting it to be good to run. Which, ironically, begs the question of why you'd want to use a pre-gen adventure in the first place, since they're supposed to be labour-saving tools for the GM...

Oh well.

Numenera: Second Thoughts

We played Numenera for the second time yesterday. We had much the same group as before: Brindy in the chair, and Mark and Jill as fellow players. Jupiter was switched out for Andrew. Likewise, we had some, but not perfect, continuity of characters - Jill was using the same character as before, while I'd switched one "strong-willed Jack who wields two weapons at once" for another. The other two characters were new, and were both Glaives of one variety or another.

To a large extent, my decision to go with the same character again was motivated by a desire to see if the weakness I'd perceived in the previous game (where my schtick proved to make my character suck) was indeed inherent in the game, or if it was just bad luck.

So...

Well, the answer was a positive one: we'd made some key mistakes with our previous game, which had disproportionately hit my "two light weapons" character. And it was also notable that as soon as we met opponents who didn't have heavy armour on, the "two light weapons" approach became at least competitive (if not optimal... which is also a good thing).

One thing that still seemed very odd, though I'm sure it was right enough - the Jack is supposed to be the "skill monkey" type, but it did seem that both Nano and the Glaives had a much longer list of skills on their sheets than I did. Though that may be because a lot of stuff might be skills or might fit elsewhere on the sheet. Plus, of course, that "flex skill" that the Jack has makes a huge difference if the game lasts longer than one day.

And...

The setting is still excellent, with a lot of inventiveness on show. Actually, that may be the highlight of the game, beyond questions over the system - and potentially worth the price of entry in itself. (That said, from a player's perspective, that then serves as a reason not to buy and read the book!)

It was also remarked that a lot of the 'iconic' elements of the adjective/noun/verb descriptors actually become available at tier two. That suggests that, should we play the remaining chapters of the adventure, we should hit that stuff near the end. Which should be good.

All in all, this was a much more satisfactory session than the previous one. I still think some more familiarity with the ruleset would be beneficial... but that's both not really a surprise, and also something that bodes well for the remaining sessions.

But...

Another published adventure, and another... questionable effort. From the player's side, this seemed to be rather better than the previous one, in they we didn't seem to hit any points where we had to succeed on a given roll or go home. However, after the session, Brindy noted that he'd had to change the setup to build in some sort of actual motivation for the PCs to get involved, he'd skipped a big section of pointless and random wandering around, and that he'd cunningly avoided one of those "succeed or go home" challenges. None of which sounds too good.

Parting Thoughts

The second session was vastly more satisfactory than the first, and the lingering problems seemed to be confined to the design of the adventure itself. Given that this is probably the area where it least matters (since the GM can, one presumes, elect not to use prepublished adventures), and given that it seems to be pretty much a feature of published adventures in general, that's not too bad.

All in all, I'm glad we had that second session, am much more happy about playing in a third, and probably misjudged Numenera at least somewhat in my earlier post.

Retraction

In a recent discussion, it was pointed out to me that this post is actually in error. It turns out that the 3.0e PHB does have a table showing the capacities of the various containers (p.110). This table was indeed dropped with 3.5e, and doesn't appear in Pathfinder either (at least, in the Core Rulebook). Plus, rather amusingly, the table in the 3.0e PHB gives only the volume of the various containers, not the weight that they can support - and, of course, absolutely no other item gives its volume! So, it's still quite silly.

Fortunately, for at least one definition of that word, some bright spark took the volumes given, and converted this into a likely weight allowance, as follows:

• Backpack - 60lb. - 1 cubic ft.
• Barrel - 650lb. - 10 cubic ft.
• Basket - 20lb. - 2 cubic ft.
• Bucket - 65lb. - 1 cubic ft.
• Chest - 200lb. - 2 cubic ft.
• Pouch, belt - 10lb. (500 coins) - 1/10 cubic ft.
• Sack - 60lb. - 1 cubic ft.
• Saddlebags - 250lb. - 5 cubic ft.
• Spell Component Pouch - 2 lb. - 1/8 cubic ft.

A couple of thoughts about this:

1. All of the weight allowances are considerably more generous than the 2nd Edition equivalents. Further, I suspect that, in almost all cases, the 2nd Ed version is probably much closer to 'right' - those were likely taken from the 1st Ed values unchanged, and 1st Ed was actually pretty good about researching things like that.
2. The weight allowance of the belt pouch, both then and now, is pretty much insane. The D&D gold piece weighs almost exactly the same as a UK pound coin (I know, I checked!). So, can you imagine walking around with £500 in coins strapped to your leg? I'm inclined to drop that down to 2 pounds (100 coins).
3. The spell component pouch probably shouldn't be on the list - it's not really a container for general equipment as such, rather than a tax on spellcasters.
4. Honestly, I think the only items of any relevance are the backpack, the belt pouch, and the sack (maybe saddlebags as well). How many PCs really wander around carrying their equipment in a basket?

In conclusion... well, nothing really. It's just (slightly) interesting when new information comes to light.

Lessons from TV: No-one here is exactly what he appears

"Let me pass on to you the one thing I've learned about this place. No one here is exactly what he appears. Not Mollari, not Delenn, not Sinclair... and not me." - G'Kar, "Babylon 5"

There are a great many lessons a DM can learn from "Babylon 5". It also has quite a few lessons not to learn - while it may seem like a really cool idea to seed something in session 2 of your campaign, only for it to pay off five years later... and while it in fact is extremely cool when you pull that off... what you don't realise until you've done it is that doing so requires a huge amount of work, no small amount of railroading, and quite possibly leaves you with a campaign that's limping badly towards the end. By the end of "Rivers of Time", I don't think anyone was really enjoying it, but we had a story to tell, so...

(For "The Eberron Code", I adopted a far more Buffy-esque structure, where each year had was something of a mini-campaign in itself, with a beginning, middle, and end. The three together fit together to form a single whole, but it very definitely was "Volume One", "Volume Two", and "Volume Three". That seemed to be a much better structure, and a much more satisfying campaign as a result.)

Anyway, I digress.

For all that they claim to be a storytelling medium, and for all that they are role-playing games, RPGs tend not to do terribly well with nuanced characters. NPCs in published adventures tend to be awfully one-dimensional. The knight in shining armour turns out, almost without exception, to be a goody two-shoes knight in shining armour. The black-hearted villain is, sure enough, a black-hearted villain. (And as for the PCs, well...)

Now, to a large extent this is entirely understandable. Over the course of "Babylon 5", G'Kar has a large amount of screen-time, measured somewhere in hours. In "Game of Thrones", Tyrion Lannister, probably the most complex character, has more screen time than just about anyone else. In D&D, the typical villain lasts four rounds, which is about 24 seconds of game-time. It's not exactly easy to put forward a nuanced portrayal in that time, nor is it really worthwhile to do so.

The solution to this is obvious, of course - give the villain more screen-time. Sure, if he's only around for four rounds, then there's little point in detailing a personality. But if the villain is around for months of game time, then suddenly matters change.

Now, of course, not every campaign will warrant this, and not every villain within a campaign will deserve it. Sometimes, they should just be the bad guys, and make a very satisfying thump when they hit the deck. But sometimes...

That said, if the PCs are the good guys, and they're keen to resolve the plot, just how do you give your villains screentime without them promptly dying? Well...

• Introduce your villains in situations when violence isn't an option. The Bond films do this all the time - he's forever meeting the villain in public locations, or where there are sufficient bystanders around that he can't resort to violence, or where his actions would be misinterpreted. If the PCs are invited to a third party's well, party, they should feel beholden to not make a scene... and that allows the DM to make a scene where the villain shows up.
• Have the villain appear in disguise. If the villain can shapeshift, or possess others as hosts, or whatever, this allows him to interact with the PCs without things necessarily becoming violent. Of course, they need to know, or find out, that they've been dealing with the villain.
• Make the villain ambiguous. Sure, that Inquisitor's methods are questionable, but is he really Evil? Even if he is, does that necessitate his removal, or is he a bulwark against a greater evil? This is especially effective if the PCs first hear about minor actions first, perhaps even things they can agree with, and gradually escalating to horror.
• Make the villain useful. As noted, that Inquisitor might be a bulwark against a worse evil, so the PCs may feel they need to keep him around until they can deal with the other threat first. Or, perhaps early on in the campaign they really need help, and the only person who can offer it is the BBEG - and then they owe him. Or similar.
• If all else fails, always have an escape plan or two. But be prepared to lose your villain if those plans fail - few things annoy players more than the DM using fiat to let his bad guy escape a rightfully-earned death.

Having established means to give the villains screen-time without them dying, that's half the job done. But, of course, there's no point in giving your villain screen-time if you don't do anything with it. If your villain is Profion in full Jeremy Irons scenery-chewing mode, there's not much point in giving him screen-time - there's no real nuance to show.

The big danger, though, is that the DM decides to build a character who is too complex. After all, Tyrion Lannister is a wonderfully detailed and complex character - let's have one just as involved! The problem is that it's really hard to bring out such detail when the PCs get to interact with the villain just a handful of times, and when most of their efforts will necessarily be dedicated to bringing him down.

So, my recommendations here:

• Don't make the character too complex. Most NPCs should have only a single trait. Even major NPCs should only have three or four traits - enough to establish who they are, without swamping the DM with too much work, or confusing the players with too much information. Paint in big, bold strokes!
• Give the villain at least two 'negative' characteristics, and at least one 'positive' one. That gives good reason to oppose the character... and also reason to admire him. (Equally, most 'good' characters should likewise have several noble characteristics and at least one negative trait. Nobody is perfect after all!)
• Make sure the players get to know about these traits! Remember, anything the players don't learn about is just wasted effort - pics, or it didn't happen.
• Members of organisations should always be more than just a member of that organisation. After all, how many of us are just our jobs, and nothing more? If nothing else, there should be an indication of how fully the character believes in the ideals of the organisation - are they a true believer, are they just in it for the money, or do they secretly want out?

And that, I think, is that. There's obviously a whole lot more that could be said about NPC design, but this post is more than long enough as it is.

Ah yes, I'd forgotten...

For my new "Star Wars: Saga Edition" campaign, I made a quick note in my document of house rules that "encumbrance will be used normally". Indeed, I'd made this almost trivially easy to handle, via the use of a very clever PDF form that automatically calculates most of the required values. Huzzah!

Unfortunately, what I had neglected to consider is that, in SWSE, the encumbrance rules are generous to the point of being pointless. Of my three characters, the one with the lowest carrying capacity still has a capacity of 63kg, while the character with the heaviest load is carrying 16.5kg. And neither of these is particularly untypical values - characters just don't tend to carry a lot of gear in Star Wars.

In fact, it might be worth noting that the character with the lowest carrying capacity that you can reasonably create in the system is a Small character with a Strength score of 6. Such a character would be able to carry 13.5kg without penalty. The equivalent Medium character could carry 18kg, while a Small character with Strength 8 could carry 24kg - both would thus be able to handle the biggest load amongst my three PCs.

So... um, yeah. I think it's still worth keeping track of things like the number of grenades they're carrying, and of course any special gear they make or acquire during the campaign. But when it comes to mundane gear, I think I'll just not bother!

Raw Material

One thing I try to do when putting together is to have a dedicated "character creation" session, where all the players are brought together and where they create their characters (as the name implies). This serves two purposes:

1. By creating the characters together, the players hopefully create a group, not just a bunch of characters.
2. Having a dedicated session before the first 'real' session gives me time to adjust the campaign to suit.

It is that second point that is of most interest here. See, RPGs are inevitably rather broad and sprawling, with a huge range of directions in which they can go. And while players will generally sign up for something because the premise sounds interesting, they haven't signed up to be read a story - they inevitably, and rightly, want to have significant input into how the game goes.

What the character creation session allows, then, is for the players to give some indication of where their interests lie. After all, if they create a bunch of scheming nobles, that's probably an indication that they want a campaign filled with intrigue and backstabbing, while if they create a bunch of straightforward paladins then they probably want something different!

With that in mind, then, what has the "Star Wars: Imperial Fist" character creation session given me?

Well, firstly, and unfortunately, we had one player drop out shortly before the session and (more annoyingly) we had one no-show. That meant that we've dropped from the 'ideal' five characters to three. That's still a quorum... but only just. Hopefully, we'll be able to pick up one or two more players for the next session.

Brindy has created a Jawa Scout character, skilled in mechanics and perception, and very skilled in stealth. That suggests to me an interest in messing around with technology (especially junked tech), and in sneaking around and learning things best left undiscovered. That shouldn't be a problem - there's plenty of Separatist tech left over from the Clone Wars, after all, and the Empire does love its secrets...

Smug has created a Rodian Scoundrel, with a view towards the Gunslinger prestige class. This is almost an iconic "Imperial Fist" character, and should be near-trivial to drop into the campaign. That said, there's possibly some scope for shaking things up there... what if these two characters only start as part of the "Imperial Fist" project? Hmm...

(Actually, that bears a bit more thought. If he was drafted in to "Imperial Fist" having been captured running contraband, that suggests a disgruntled former employer out there somewhere. And that means... something. But not a Hutt; that's just too cliché.)

Finally, Polgare has created a Human Soldier who she describes as "just a grunt". On the face of it, that suggests that she's perhaps just interested in following on and seeing where the campaign goes, happily being blown where the wind takes her.

And yet... the character has a surprisingly detailed background for all that. The daughter of a doctor and a biochemist, who drifted into the Imperial Navy when it became apparent that she couldn't follow in her parents' footsteps, was overlooked for promotion due to her sex, and then was recruited by Daala for the same reason.

I think with that one, I'm inclined to run with the "doctor and biochemist" angle there. If nothing else, that dovetails nicely with the abandoned research station on Varn from the one-shot - they never did investigate what was being researched. And it's very "Star Wars" to have children somehow unexpectedly come face to face with their parents' work...

But where does that leave my original concept?

Well, actually, it should still work - the "Imperial Fist" teams are intended to hunt down and eliminate Jedi malefactors and other rogue elements, and incidentally to deal with any Imperial corruption or other rogue elements they uncover. That can still fit. And I'm starting to see the outlines of a big "rogue element"... It does appear, however, that I may need either a different Big Bad or perhaps a second(ary) Big Bad. Not that that's particularly a problem.

And in the meantime... there are problems on Fere. Agents of Seinar systems, keen to open a new shipyard on the old world, and so trade on its former reputation, have requested assistance from Governor Tarkin and his agents. Someone has been sabotaging their efforts. And so, the Chimera's Escape is dispatched...

Start of a New Campaign

Tonight marks the start of a new adventure: I'm starting up a "Star Wars: Saga Edition" campaign. Titled "Imperial Fist", this one follows the exploits of a team of Imperial special agents - a mix of special forces troops, Force adepts, bounty hunters, and the like. The PCs are charged with tracking down and eliminating the remaining Jedi and their sympathisers.

My initial intention is to play this one straight - the PCs are Imperial agents, they believe (mostly) in the Imperial cause, and they're not particularly evil. Of course, whether that intention actually survives contact with the players is quite another matter!

Numenera: First Thoughts

On Saturday, I got my first chance to play "Numenera", the new game from Monte Cook. Amongst other things, this is one of three games in a "new wave" of RPGs that purport to do something genuinely new in the area. (The other two games in this "new wave" are "Thirteenth Age" and "Dungeonworld", neither of which I know much about.) So, I was understandably curious to see what all the fuss was about.

First, some peripheral matters:

The session itself was very solid. The game was GM'ed well, as always, by Brindy, and the group of players present was a good one - it gelled well, it had a good blend of personalities. That was all to the good. Some of what follows is rather critical, so I felt it was important to note up-front that any criticisms are aimed at the game/adventure, rather than at the group/GM.

Speaking of the adventure... oh dear. On the face of it, this was a straightforward enough adventure - there was trouble in the town, the PCs have to figure out what it is... go!

Unfortunately, the adventure is badly structured, containing at least two rookie mistakes in adventure design. I appreciate that it was necessarily short, but... I would have expected better from Monte, and I certainly would have expected better from an adventure intended to showcase a new game.

The first problem comes when the PCs try to figure out what the problem is. Here, the puzzle is laid out as a trail of breadcrumbs - go here to get the clue that points you to there, then go there to be pointed to the next place, then go there to do the next thing... The problem with that is that if the PCs don't start by going 'here' then the whole adventure grinds to a halt. There are other locations named in the adventure, but there's absolutely nothing of interest to be learned from them. The only way for the adventure to progress is for the PCs to go 'here'. That's a bad way to structure any adventure, but is especially poisonous for a puzzle or mystery adventure. Honestly, I thought we were beyond this - see "the three-clue rule".

The second problem tied in to the first. At the start of the adventure, the obvious thing to do was go "here". That was fine. But on arrival, the PCs were told, in no uncertain terms, "go away. Come back tomorrow". Fair enough. And the next day, we were told the same.

Now, at this point, standard RPG protocol is to decide something is amiss, and to break into the place to find out what. Except... this was a building belonging to the legitimate authority in the game, and guarded by a representative of that authority. Suddenly, that "obvious" course of action is cast into doubt.

But, fair enough, eventually we gave up on the other dead-ends and decided to break in. At which point, we discovered that, in order to gain entry, we had to find a hidden switch for the trap - a task requiring an extremely difficult roll (18+ on d20 - even applying all available modifiers it was still 12+; that is, a 45% chance of getting to continue the adventure). And there was another instance of just this again at the end of the adventure - make this roll, or you can go no further.

Honestly, is this where we are with adventure design? Still?

So... The Game Itself

I found Numenera to be something of a mixed bag.

The first thing that leapt out at me was that I really liked the setting. It was nicely done, it was evocative, and it had shades of both Vance's "Dying Earth" and of "Gamma World". Lots of good stuff there, and lots of scope for adventure.

I also liked the Numenera themselves, at least mostly. In particular, I liked the use of "cyphers" - one-shot items with a single, specific purpose. I liked that these were readily available, and I also liked that PCs could only carry a few of them. It seems that Monte has learned a thing or two from D&D's potions, wands and scrolls. I wasn't so keen on the "Oddities" - other than humour, they didn't seem to add anything to the game. Then again, maybe humour is enough.

Finally, I liked the core of the system - I liked the use of "pools", I liked the rolling system, and I liked what little I saw of characters being connected to one another mechanically. That was all to the good.

I wasn't so keen on character creation. On the face of it, it seemed really nice - describe your character as "an {adjective} {noun} who {does something}", where each of the three is taken from a short list. Then, look at the effect of each, and that's your character. So, my first attempt was "a strong-willed Jack who wields power with precision". Which sounds pretty good (you need to know what a "Jack" is, but since it's one of three character classes, that's not too bad).

Unfortunately, I quickly found that "wields power with precision" didn't mean what I thought it meant, and it really didn't fit my view of the character at all. So, I had to swap that out for something else, and ended up with "wields two weapons at once" - not ideal, but still pretty good.

Unfortunately, that experience gave me the distinct impression that it would be very easy to create a character who just sucks in this system - some of the {does something} options, and almost certainly some of the {adjective} options, are distinctly tied to specific {noun} options - if you take the wrong one, you're screwed. Which means that you're not really choosing an adjective/noun/verb combination because it describes your character - you need to choose these options based on mechanics. System mastery is still there; it's just hidden (which is even worse than having it out in the open).

(In theory, that can be fixed easily enough. Either provide individual adjective/verb options for each of the three classes, or (better) adjust the effect of the adjective/verb combinations based on which class is selected. That way, any combination should work, and the system then becomes fun rather than a minefield.)

My other big criticism was to become apparent quite late in the game. For the most part, the combat system is a good one - quick and fun, with the players making all of the rolls, and plenty of options for actions.

But...

The way damage works is as follows: you roll to hit. If you hit, your attack does a fixed amount of damage, reduced by a fixed amount by armour (and, in theory, can be reduced to 0). There are some powers that can grant an additional point of damage (presumably, more at higher 'level'), and you get extra damage if your attack roll is very high (17+).

Pretty much my character's defining characteristic was "wields two weapons at once". Specifically, he used two light weapons at once, which meant that each successful attack did 2 points of damage... and I had a power that could boost this by +1, for a total of 3. And that was it - barring a lucky roll, the absolute maximum damage my character could do was 3.

In the one and only combat encounter in the game, the enemy were wearing heavy armour, which reduced the damage of any successful attack by 3.

(Fortunately, my character was also carrying a bow which, as a medium weapon, did 4 points of damage, so I wasn't completely useless. Nonetheless, that was very disheartening.)

All in all, I'm afraid I'm really not a fan of the system. It has some nice features, but it also has some major flaws.

Parting Thoughts:

I feel quite bad about being so critical of the game. Physically, it's extremely nice, it's well presented, it's got a great setting, and it's mostly a good game. And I had fun playing - from the point where we'd completed char-gen up to the point where I realised my character's signature move rendered him useless.

But, overall, I'm afraid my impression was more negative than positive. It was okay. But it wasn't really any better than okay, and that was disappointing.

Lessons from The Eberron Code #3: The Artificer

Before I get started, I think it's really important that I note that what follows is not a criticism of the player of the Artificer character in my campaign. Had he chosen to do so, that player could have destroyed the campaign quite thoroughly; to his great credit, he instead chose to focus his efforts on creating 'interesting' items, rather than going for raw power. So, he highlighted the problems below, without himself being a destructive influence. Which is a good thing.

The Artificer is a character class introduced in the Eberron sourcebook. Where other characters gain their power by feats of arms, or by casting spells, the Artificer gains his power by crafting and using magic items. Basically, he's Iron Man. And this was even more the case in "The Eberron Code", where the Artificer was a Warforged - a new Eberron race that is essentially a "metal man".

(As an aside about the Warforged, at least in 3e - they're also overpowered. In the PHB, the dwarf is quite clearly the most powerful of the races; the Warforged has them beat quite handily. Those immunities are extremely powerful. But I digress.)

I really like the concept of the Artificer. The "Iron Man" concept is a good one. And, in theory, 3e was the first edition to really support widespread crafting of magic items. It seemed a great fit.

"Seemed" is the operative word there.

See, what I hadn't grasped, but what really became apparent very quickly when Mondo started crafting lots of items, is that the 3e magic item crafting system just doesn't work. It looks like it's a solid system, filled with lots of mathematical rigour, and with formulae just under the surface for the enterprising DM to dig out.

It's really not. The guidelines in the DMG actually allude to this, noting that the fomulae given should just be considered guidelines. But it's not clear until it gets heavily used that it's more or less just something that they put together, didn't really playtest, and left well alone.

In fact, I'm now reasonably sure that the 3e designers envisaged the game being played in a very "2nd Edition" style - PCs would mostly be single class, you'd have the 'classic' four person party in most cases, campaigns would stop about 10th level, and almost all magic items would be found following random rolls on the treasure tables - almost no items would be bought or crafted. And, played in that style, you get a very different game.

(I think I've mentioned this before. I'm now convinced that the whole of multiclassing, the whole of magic item creation, and the whole of high-level play was only barely playtested, and pretty much doesn't work right. Which is a pretty damning indictment - that's about two-thirds of the game right there!)

So, the consequence of this discovery was that Mondo Jiwa was a very powerful character. Indeed, with a bit of tweaking that character could have filled pretty much any role in the party, and could probably have done it better in most cases than the dedicated specialist. (Fortunately, he didn't seem able to fill all the roles at once.) As noted above, had the player not deliberately chosen not to break the game, he could readily have done so, simply by applying the rules as written.

As far as I can tell, WotC were only too well aware of this weakness in the rules. In the "Magic Item Compendium", they re-price a whole lot of items to make them a bit more sane. They start to introduce the notion of "item levels", indicating that a certain item is suitable for characters of a suitable level (a concept that would be fully adopted in 4e).

Unfortunately, the MIC is one of the most incompetent books they ever produced. Worse, it starts the process of re-pricing items, but it fails to touch any of the items in the DMG (some of which were the worst offenders), and it says nothing about item creation. In effect, it creates a hybrid between two systems, one improperly tested and one half-done, and then walks away from the rubble of your game. The book is still, barely, useable, but only as a source of items for the DM to insert as treasure in his game; for item creation or purchase, it is worse than useless.

Tragically, the upshot of that is that I think the Artificer needs to be removed from any future campaigns I run. Further, the whole notion of item creation needs to be removed entirely - it's too complex to properly fix, and some of the most basic items to create (specifically scrolls) and also the ones most likely to cause problems. It's a real mess - and a huge and fundamental flaw at the heart of 3.5e.

There's also one further lesson to be learned from this. One of the things that I didn't expect was that Mondo's player really enjoyed tinkering with the item creation system, broken as it is. He actively enjoyed working on his spreadhseets, sorting out just what his character would make next, and so forth. The very complexity of that bit of the game was actively a bonus as far as he was concerned.

That was something of a surprise to me, to say the least. To a large extent, I'd written off item creation as just being too complex. And one of my key design goals for "Nutshell Fantasy" was that the game should be vastly simpler - that it should allow item creation, and should do so in a nice, easy manner.

But if the very complexity of the system can be a draw, where does that leave NF? Especially since there's simply no way I could possibly replicate the many thousands of items in 3e and its sourcebooks?

Anyway, that was the third, and final, big lesson that I learned from "The Eberron Code". It was also, probably, the most surprising of the three.

Lessons from The Eberron Code #2: The Spell Compendium

I'm not sure if anyone is still reading this blog, or if there's even a hint of residual interest, but...

Some months ago, I posted the first of me "Lessons from The Eberron Code" posts. This was supposed to be the first of three such posts, but I never did get around to the second or third posts. Well, here goes.

One of the things I like about 3e is that it was intentionally constructed to be easily expanded - adding extra feats, spells, magic items, monsters, classes, and so on was just a matter of dropping them in. But the down-side of that was that the game quickly became unmanageable, as characters would be built with a class from here, a feat from there, and three magic items from those other three books. That was a pain, especially for the poor DM who had to lug all those books around with him. And, unlike with 4e, the technology wasn't really available at the outset to allow this to be nicely gathered and indexed in an online resource. (Of course, that's no longer true, but the only people who have the legal right to do so are WotC, and they've moved on and have no interest in doing so.)

So, when it was released, I was absolutely delighted to see the "Spell Compendium" (and then the companion volume, the "Magic Item Compendium"). I promptly declared that PCs could use any spells from the PHB or the SC, but no other spells from any source. And so it went on, with the book seeing almost no use in-game, up to the point where the player of the Druid in the Eberron Code took a serious look in the book, and then started using some of the spells.

Unfortunately, that was also the point where I was handed a sharp lesson about the contents of that book. Specifically, that the "Spell Compendium" represented a source of massive power creep and, worse, that it was a power boost for exactly those classes that least required it: the Cleric, the Druid, and the Wizard.

See, it has long been known that 3e has balance issues across the classes. Actually, these have been inherent in the game since the outset, but they really kicked into high gear with 3.0e, and got worse with 3.5e. There were two issues: firstly, the Fighter-types have a more-or-less linear progression in abilities (actually, as far as I can tell, it's an n.log(n) progression), while the spellcasters have a cubic progression.

(That is, the Fighters gain power in terms of advanced BAB and hit points (linear), plus they also gain more powerful feats and some extra attacks (log n). Meanwhile, the Wizards gain more spells per day, plus the gain higher level spells, plus all their existing spells become more powerful as they go.)

The other problem, though, is that the Fighter-types have a small and fixed set of tricks available: they get maybe a dozen feats. Meanwhile, the Cleric gets access to all his spells. And, when a new sourcebook is added, the Cleric immediately gains access to all those spells as well. Adding more feats gives more ways to build a Fighter, but generally doesn't vastly increase the power of an individual Fighter; adding more spells can dramatically increase the power level of the Cleric (or Druid, and to a lesser extent the Wizard).

In addition, the "Spell Compendium" really highlights something that I'd been aware of for a long time, but hadn't really bothered with: the designers of the game actively broke 3e as it went along. See, 3e has a limitation on PC power inherent in the 'stacking' rules - if you have two bonuses of the same type (armour +2 and armour +3, for example), you don't get to add both bonuses, only the larger. And, since the DMG included only a limited number of bonus types, this put a hard ceiling on potential power.

The problem with this was that the PHB spells do a pretty good job of "filling in the gaps" - for pretty much any possible bonus type, there are spells in the PHB to give a bonus of that type. What this means is that, when the designers came to add new spells, they found themselves rather stuck - if there's already a spell to grant a +X armour bonus, how do you make an interesting spell that gives an armour bonus? Can't just go for a bigger number, because that would change the spell level, but if you don't then your new spell is redundant.

So they cheated. They designed loads of new spells by introducing a huge range of new bonus types. The consequence of this was obvious: the game grew more complex, and characters grew much more powerful as they stacked the new spells on top of the old. Huzzah!

(Which means, by the way, that when the team introducing 4e commented that 3e was 'broken' and 'over-complex', they weren't wrong. But the reason 3e was in that state was that those same designers had made it that way! But that's another rant.)

The bottom line of all of this is that, while I really like the concept of the "Spell Compendium", the effect on the game overall is a shockingly bad one. Much as I would prefer not to, I think I'm going to have to remove it from use from any future games that I run. Assuming, that is, that I ever run 3.5e D&D again...

The End of the Campaign

After two years, my latest campaign, "The Eberron Code", has come to an end. The final session centred around a showdown between the 15th level PCs and the demon Bel Shalor. If successful, the PCs would bind the demon far more tightly within the Silver Flame, preventing its corrosive influence, and thus cleansing the Flame (and the attendant religion). If they failed, they risked the existence of their very souls, and would die unremembered.

This was not very dissimilar to the end I had envisaged before starting the campaign, and was the final act in a story that had played out in a very satisfactory manner. Naturally, I had visions of it playing out as an epic battle, going first one way or another, and ending with the PCs victorious, but counting a heavy cost.

Just one problem with that: high-level D&D 3e doesn't really lend itself to that sort of a battle. The demon in question had several "save or die" abilities, while at least one of the PCs was able to muster equivalently powerful abilities. It was entirely possible that the battle might be over in a small handful of rounds, with either the enemy being one-shotted (and so a horrible anti-climax), or with the PCs falling far too quickly (thus being very unsatisfactory).

So, I was a little worried going into that last session. After all, two years' of work was on the line, and if this went wrong then there was no coming back from it.

Well, in the end the session played out extremely well. The Wizard tried his cunning trick, offering the demon the "Book of Vile Darkness"... a tome on which he had placed a trap the soul spell to capture the beast. Unfortunately, although he tricked the demon, he also tricked the NPC allies, who proceeded to get in the way. And in giving them the heads-up, they accidentally tipped off the demon.

From there, we proceeded with an epic battle. For a long time, the PCs found it hard to do any damage to the beast, but they were gradually making headway. Bel Shalor focussed his attacks on the NPC allies first, clearing the field of those who had opposed him first. Then, he turned his attention to the PCs. Still, about a quarter of the required damage was done.

At this point, the vorpal blade went snicker-snack! And Avon Blurric, the PC wizard, fell dead, his head severed from his body. Which was interesting, to say the least.

The balance of the combat was thus turned, with the PC cleric, Harrington Fargo, scrambling to reunite the Wizard's head and his body - for he had access to a powerful magic that could restore the newly-dead to life! Meanwhile, the Ranger, the Rogue, and the Artificer kept the demon busy.

The PCs had now found the technique for doing some serious damage to the demon. Garret the Green, the Rogue, was doing 8d6 damage with each sneak attack, and was scoring roughly one hit per round. The others were contributing a few points here and there. And eventually, Craetegus (the Ranger) was able to sever the creature's wings, denying it the ability to fly.

Bel Shalor responded with his most potent ability, the dread implosion spell. And Craetegus was no more.

But the tide now turned once more. Restored to life, Avon made use of his staff of frost to blast the demon, while Garret continued his sneak attacks. And finally, after three hours of play, the demon was felled. All that remained was to finish it off. Avon, Harrington, and Mondo (the Artificer) retreated to safety at this point. Garret finished the demon, relying on his preternatural reflexes to save him from the resulting explosion.

And that was it. The campaign was done.

There was then a brief epilogue, as the survivors returned to the world, as they progressed on to further adventures or a well-deserved retirement, and as the results of their victory became known.

The end.

My overwhelming feeling at the end of the campaign was exhaustion. So much had gone into that last session, and so much had been depending on it, that when it was done there was a sudden relief, and tiredness. But once that had passed, there was a great satisfaction - the last session had indeed lived up to the rest of the campaign, and had gone down just about as well as could be hoped. Indeed, the result was pretty much exactly what was hoped - a narrow victory, and a high cost.

So... time for the next campaign!

(In seriousness, the next campaign doesn't start for several months, and won't be anything like as elaborate. I also have quite a few bits of "wash-up" to do for this campaign, which I'll be posting in the next little while. So it may be some time before I start thinking in earnest about "Imperial Fist".)

About Dice Rings

Over on the Falkirk RPG website, there was a brief debate about "Dice Rings". These, as the name implies, are rings that can serve as dice - they have a fixed inner ring and a loose outer ring marked with numbers. To roll a random number, you spin the outer ring, and when it comes to a halt there's a read-out point at which you get your number.

My contention is that these dice rings are a neat gimmick, but that I would very much doubt the randomness of the dice. In particular, it is my contention that the result is coupled to the initial state of the ring.

Now, it was noted on the original kickstarter that the dice have been extensively tested for randomness. And this website provides more details about their testing.

Firstly, to ensure that the dice can't be 'aimed' or otherwise cheated, the numbers around the ring have been placed in a carefully-selected order. Where possible, the numbers alternate between odd and even values and between high and low results. And while '1' and '20' aren't directly opposite one another, they are close to being opposites.

Secondly, the creator tested the dice by spinning them over and over, recording the results, and checking there were no anomalies - that each result came up as often as any other.

So that's it, right?

Actually, no.

Consider this: suppose your PC is having a hard time of it. You've got three attacks per round, but you need a nat '20' to hit. You've just rolled one such '20', and are now rolling your second attack (or rolling to confirm the crit). Either way, you spin the dice...

Now, in this scenario, it doesn't matter that the dice have been checked to ensure that, on average, they roll each number as often as any other. And it also doesn't matter that you have a 50% chance of an 11 or more, or a 50/50 chance of an odd or even number.

What matters is that on this roll, the odds of scoring that natural '20' need to be exactly 5%. No more, no less.

Obviously, the order of the numbers around the ring does nothing for this - whatever order is chosen you'll still need the ring to spin through exactly N revolutions, where N is an integer. But what about the testing described in "secondly", above?

Well, here's the thing: the test that he describes is effectively a "Chi Square" test, which can indeed be used to test a die for randomness. The problem is, though, that many pseudo-random generators would also pass such a test. (Indeed, if you had a generator that simply stepped from '1' to '2' to '3', up to '20' and then to '1', it would still pass that test. Although in that case, the uniformity of the results would itself be a warning sign.) To be sure the outcome wasn't tied to the initial state, you would need to run this test 20 times - once for each of the initial states of the ring.

My expected behaviour of the spin ring is as follows: each person will operate slightly differently, but each will naturally adopt a favoured technique for spinning the ring. This technique will cause the outer part to spin through X revolutions (where X is not necessarily an integer), plus or minus Y.

Now, Y may very well be more than a full revolution of the ring. So, that's good enough, isn't it?

Again, I'm afraid the answer is "no". Because the distribution of values won't be even - like virtually everything else in the sphere of human endeavour, it will sit on a bell curve - the most likely single outcome will be for a spin of exactly X reolutions, then the next most likely will be one position to either side, and then the next position outwards, and so on.

This means that, depending on the initial position of the ring, the outcomes will themselves have a bell curve distribution, not the even distribution that is required. The most likely outcomes will vary, but will depend on the initial state of the die.

And, for that PC who needs a natural '20', the odds of actually scoring that value are unlikely to be exactly 5%. Sorry, your character's dead.

Now, all that said - three more things.

Firstly, as the designer notes, these "spin rings" are based on something called "worry rings", which are sometimes suggested as a means to cure anxiety - the wearer fiddles with them mindlessly, in order to distract his mind from his worries. I would expect spin rings to work extremely well for such a person - by constantly fiddling, they'll effectively be pre-randomising the starting position of the ring, and so give a random aspect (much like a well shuffled deck of cards). They would, however, need to do this every time between rolls, or they'll still never confirm that crit. (Conversely, it's likely the rings would work especially badly for someone such as myself, who tends towards reducing entropy by regimenting my dice.)

Secondly, it is by no means guaranteed that any particular die is properly random anyway. Indeed, depending on how much faith you put in the Gamescience presentation, it appears likely that most dice aren't properly random. In which case, little is lost by switching to spin rings - you're moving from one imperfect method to another.

Thirdly... if you really want to use a spin ring in favour of a d20 in one of my games, I won't stop you. I find the topic interesting, but mostly for the theoretical exercise in reasoning. When it comes to actual practice, I really don't care all that much.

White Dwarf at 400

Some time in the last few months, "White Dwarf" magazine started appearing in Tesco. I was finding it increasingly difficult to resist the urge to pick up a copy and have a look, despite not being a particular fan of Games Workshop, despite not being a customer of Games Workshop, and despite my extreme dislike of their handling of that "Space Marine" copyright thing.

When issue 400 appeared a few weeks ago, complete with a Tau battlesuit on the front (basically, it was Shockwave), I finally weakened and picked up the issue. Which I duly read, and finally finished yesterday.

My first, and most immediate, feeling about the magazine was that it is frankly a travesty that "White Dwarf" made it to 400 issues, while "Dragon" got cancelled at 359. And no, the electronic version doesn't count.

My second reaction is that it is, absolutely and unashamedly, a big paid-for advert for Games Workshop's latest products (specifically the newly relaunched Tau army for Warhammer 40,000). But... it is an entertaining and well-made advert for their products. Indeed, it was actually considerably better than I remembered - at least this issue bothered to include genuine painting tips and advice, and some stuff about modelling backgrounds and the like. Plus, the battle report was the highlight, as always, pitting the Tau against Tyrannids (the Tau won, of course - the new army wins these things at least 90% of the time).

My final reaction, though, is that this was actually a really dangerous purchase. Because having read it, I really want to invest in a shiny new Tau army. Purely because those battlesuits are very much the descendants of Shockwave, and that's cool. (And, indeed, I felt a similar pull to the Necrons a little while ago. But it's all nonsense - if I were ever to go back to 40k, it would of course be to expand and update my Ork force.)

Anyway, that's that. Given the cost, it's not really a purchase that I regret, despite not actually having any huge interest in the subject (and despite definitely not wanting to get back into that side of the hobby). But the question now is: do I buy issue #401?

Playing It Straight

As the name perhaps implies, the "Star Wars: Imperial Fist" game cast the PCs as servants of the Galactic Empire. Indeed, their mission was to hunt down one of the remaining Jedi and bring him to justice.

Now, there are two classic ways to present a "play as the Empire" Star Wars RPG. Probably the most common of these is to have the PCs fairly quickly realise their error and operate as double agents within the Empire (or, indeed, defect openly to the Rebellion). The other, of course, is to do the "evil campaign" - the PCs are out for their own benefit, and woe betide anyone who gets in their way.

However, there is a third approach, and this is the direction I took with the "Imperial Fist" one-shot, and the one I will try to adopt with the campaign when it comes: play it straight. That is, the PCs are agents of the Empire, yes, but they're not necessarily evil. They may be misguided... or they may not.

In the one-shot, it turned out that the Jedi in question had fallen to the Dark Side. This isn't really a surprise given what we see in the films - the Jedi spend years fighting a pointless war, large numbers of them are killed, padawan training is frequently abridged, and then, just as victory is at hand, their allies turn on them and they are slaughtered and they are villifed.

Based on that, it's no wonder many of those who survive are driven mad by their experiences. Others could well determine that they're involved in a new war, with ever fewer resources, and fight accordingly (see the start of season 3 of BSG).

And, of course, there are also the possibilities that the Imperial Fist team won't just deal with Jedi. There are all manner of corruptions in the Empire that could be tackled, or local authorities could invent a Jedi threat to cover their own abuses. Or...

The evidence suggests that that should actually work really well. The PCs will do their stuff, some moving towards the Dark Side, others remaining the 'good guys' or being appropriately neutral.

But then the really interesting discussions crop up once the PCs finally track down a Jedi who is one of the good guys, and then they have a choice to make. And I do so enjoy those interesting decisions!

Star Wars: Imperial Fist in retrospect

On Saturday, I ran the second of my one-shot games for the year. It is my hope to fit five of these in this year, being the 'normal' four I try for plus the Firefly game I ran a couple of months ago (which had been intended for last month).

In truth, Saturday wasn't quite the ideal time to run the game. I had had a truly manic week, what with work, LC's birthday to bake for, a night out at the theatre, and our regular game night on the Tuesday. Additionally, I had a nephew's birhtday event in the morning, which meant that the event was pushed back from a 1:30 start time to 3pm, with a corresponding slip in the end time.

As it happened, though, that didn't matter too much. The players were okay with the change to the start time, I was able to get through all the prep that was needed, and I was back in plenty of time for the first arrivals. It all worked out in the end.

The game was attended by four players, one short of the number of spots I had allocated. That actually worked well, because it allowed me to withdraw one of the characters that I wasn't entirely happy with.

The adventure was split into three acts: an investigative first act in which the PCs gather and piece together clues, a quest-like second act where they entered an abandoned underwater facility and fall into a trap, and an action-packed third act in which they race back to confront the enemy.

What Went Well

• Good group dynamic. Always important, this worked well here. We had two veteran players, one somewhat experienced player, and one completely new player. The mix of personalities was good, and the new player was able to receive any help he required with the rules. (Naturally, there was no real help needed with the setting, it being Star Wars.)
• The investigation. The Three Clue Rule was hugely useful here, with the PCs gathering all the clues they needed to solve just about all the mysteries in the game. The only thing they didn't work out was the identity of one of the traitors, and that was only because they chose not to follow up on some leads - they had everything they needed to finish the job.
• The action. Once we reached the second act, the game really clicked into high gear, and didn't stop until the end. In the last hour and a half of play, the party faced three tough combats, engaged in a chase, and wrapped up most of the key mysteries. Good stuff.
• The chase scene. After the last one-shot, I had noted a little dissatisfaction with my handling of the vehicle rules and of a chase scene. I was therefore determined to include such a scene here. I had made sure to give the matter a lot of thought for this session, with the end result that it actually worked very well - especially when one player rolled an extremely well-timed '20'. So I was happy with that.
• Dynamic Replanning. The third act was supposed to feature a big showdown at the spaceport. However, the players put together the clues they had rather differently, concluding that the hospital was the bad guys' next target. This was actually a much better, and much more logical, solution. And so, I shifted it. I felt that that was particularly good, both in that the players effectively fixed my biggest mistake (see below) and that they actually made the game even better than expected. (And, were I not so modest, I might note something about how I handled the revised ending...)

What Didn't Work so Well

• As I noted in the introduction, I was able to withdraw one of the characters that I wasn't too happy with. Star Wars Saga Edition has five classes (Jedi, Noble, Scoundrel, Scout, and Soldier), and since there were five spots for players I had created one of each. Four of the characters had really solid concepts, interesting mechanics, and a really good power level. The fifth, the Noble, I never felt quite clicked in the same way. And yet, looking at the character I didn't really see any way to improve him - he was just that bit less good than the rest. So I was quite glad to be able to remove him from play.
• Two rules mistakes. I made two fairly huge rules mistakes (actually, one mistake twice) - in SWSE a character gets either his level added to his Reflex Defense or an armour bonus. Only some Soldiers are able to add both. When statting up both the Varn Razorback and Obit Fyaar, I made the mistake of adding both, leading to a situation where the Razorback was virtually unhittable and Fyaar was just too tough. Luckily, I spotted the first problem soon enough to fix it, while in the second case the PCs had plenty of Force Points to spend to compensate. Still, a mistake.
• A pacing issue. The first act took about three hours out of six hours of play. This was rather too much, so I feel that perhaps I should have pushed things on a bit, to make some more room for the latter two acts. Fortunately, we didn't have an absolutely fixed end time, so it worked out okay, but if doing it again, I think I would have done that a little differently.
• One Big Mistake. There was one big mistake, in that in Act Two the PCs were supposed to get some absolutely vital information. But with us running late, and with me being quite keen to get to an action scene, I completely forgot until it was too late. Fortunately, we were able to work around it, with the players actually coming up with a far better solution than I had planned, so that was fine, but it could have been much worse!

Overall

I was absolutely delighted at how this game worked out. In fact, it was definitely the best game I have run since my "Ultraviolet: Code-500" game that I ran two years ago, and the second best game that I have run for a good many years. Everybody seemed to have a great deal of fun, all the planning came together very well... yeah, it was a good time.

In addition, in amongst just trying to have a good game, I was using this one-shot as something of a "proof of concept" for a campaign later in the year. I'm very happy with how it worked, so I think that that campaign is now a GO!

One final thought: after the game, I gathered up the character sheets, my printed notes, and any other papers that were generated in the course of the game, and dumped them into recycling - everything important is stored on my PC and safely backed up, so I don't need to keep the hard-copy. That's fine, but I do note that it was around 30 sheets of paper, mostly printed on both sides. I'm really starting to wonder - is it time to invest in an iPad (or similar), and try to go paperless?

Paring the List

After some further thought, and some one-shot adventure concepts that sank like lead balloons, I have rethought the list of games I'm going to be running. It turns out that the list has been pared down to five:

• D&D: Of course, D&D is one of those standouts. It looks like I'll be giving 5e a bodyswerve, as the more I hear about the game, the less I like it. That means sticking with 3e for the foreseeable future, unless I can come up with a system that does essentially the same things, only better. I expect to use D&D almost exclusively for campaign play, although may run the occasional demonstrator one-shot, or introductory session.
• Star Wars Saga Edition: Of course, Star Wars is always popular, as is a good game for introducing new players. So that stays. As noted previously, I won't be buying in to the new FFG edition (three reasons: no PDFs, use of custom dice, and the fact that after six previous editions, I really can't support a new one). So, again, I'll stick with SWSE. I expect to use SWSE quite extensively for both campaign and one-shot play.
• Serenity: This will almost certainly be superseded by the Firefly RPG when that gets released. It's another game that never seems to lack players. I put that primarily down to the setting being just fleshed out enough to be compelling, and yet sufficiently open to give GMs real space to play in. I can only really foresee using Serenity for one-shot play, though Firefly may be different.
• Black Crusade: The latest idea I'm rolling around in my head is the possibility of an open campaign structure, where lots of GMs run adventures in the same system, and where players come and go as they will, keeping the same characters. Black Crusade is probably the best candidate for the system to use for that one. It's also a game that seems to have no problem getting players, despite my own love/hate relationship with it. So we'll see.
• Hunter: the Vigil (World of Darkness): Probably the single best game I've run in years (perhaps ever) was a WoD one-shot based on the "Ultraviolet" TV series. That being the case, I'm keen to play some more of the system, either as a one-shot or as a campaign. (For one-shot play, I'd be inclined to stick with the base WoD rules; for a campaign, I expect I'd prefer the greater depth of the HtV expansion.) However, unlike the other games on this list, Hunter doesn't seem to have quite the same built-in fanbase - it made for a really great one-shot, but I fear it might struggle for players.

And that's it. Five games, four for (potential) campaign play, and three for one-shot play. It's almost worth thinking about clearing out my RPG shelves - there's a huge amount of stuff there that will simply never be used again.