Moldvay Musings XXII: Experience for Gold

Hello again! Assuming anyone is still out there. With the recent end of our latest Traveller campaign, I’ve stepped away from the gaming table for a spell. Some family matters have made the last several of months distracting, but I’ve recently begun a personal project that’s got me trying to get back into the old-school D&D mindset. Thus, I have thoughts to blog.

There was a recent discussion online regarding OSE (Old School Essentials), the excellent BX re-skinning by Necrotic Gnome. A DM new to the system (I think he had previously run 5e) was asking about alternative experience/leveling methods other than XP for GP.

Several options and house-rules were bandied about. But as I read through them, it reinforced my preference for the as-written method of experience being mostly from treasure found through adventuring. My impulse was to reply to the thread directly, but as I organized my ideas, I realized there was a bit more connected to the subject than I first thought. So I decided to fling them all onto the page here and get them out of my skull.

NB: This got… wordy, so here’s the TL;DR – A character’s XP level or progression is not the ONLY way they can become more powerful within a game-world. Using treasure earned through adventuring as the way to measure their progress as adventurers makes perfect sense in a game like classic D&D.

First of all, when I say I like the XP/GP model, I mean specifically for D&D, especially if there is a focus on dungeon crawling. Other games and systems use completely different methods of advancing characters, and they work great. I wouldn’t try to change Call of Cthulhu over to a level based XP system relying on treasure-hunting.

But why do I like XP/GP for D&D? Firstly, and this is the least of it, it’s the way the game was originally written. My overall game-mastering perspective is typically to change as little as possible in the rules as written unless I find a compelling reason. Also, as I have said before “You can’t ‘Fix’ D&D.” There is a point in the rules-tweaking cycle where one has to ask if it’s still the same game?

The next reason I like XP/GP is simply that it makes sense. If you are playing old-school D&D as I believe it was intended, then your game is a series of risk/reward exercises. When you break into an ancient tomb, most PCs would have profit at least partially on their minds. So if the gold is the reward, what’s the risk? The monsters, the traps, NPC rival parties and bandits. In risk management, the goal is to maximize reward and minimize risk. Making combat attractive by adding making it a bigger source of XP results in risk-seeking, not risk management.

Now XP/GP isn’t perfect. The question often arises of what does a mid-to-high level character DO with all their coin? Not all PCs are interested in building a stronghold, and if you don’t let them buy expensive magic items or similar, they can amass an alarming amount of cash. I’ve written in the past about PC wealth and ways to help them spend it. The truth is this all comes back to the attitude of the players (and the DM). Wealth can be a role-playing challenge. What would you do if you were your PC and came into that money? I know some folks would say “Not go out adventuring again, that’s for sure!” And if it fits your character’s story to retire at that point, who is to stop you?

I would counter that maybe that’s not being the best player that you could be in the sense that you are a member in a group of (hopefully) friends. Leaving the party high and dry as your experienced PC bails on adventuring to open a tavern might annoy the rest of the group.  I usually enjoin players to think of character concepts that include wanting to continue adventuring. Or needing to in order to reach a goal. What you might “settle” for in real life may be VERY different from what your PC would deem enough. We’re playing a game of imagination, we can figure something out that makes sense if we agree on things like basic genres and tropes. If, as a kid, you and your friends went out to play Cops & Robbers, the compact there was there were two main types of people in the game: police and criminals. If one kid then claims he’s Spider-Man and can just web-up all the robbers, that’s a very different game.

I should take a moment to stress that in my games, experience is earned by treasure earned through adventuring. If you invest in a shipping line or marry the old widow and you end up with a million gold pieces, you don’t suddenly shoot up in level. You don’t become a better adventurer by not adventuring. Which is another reason I mislike things like “Story XP.” If the story involves adventure and monsters and such, then building some treasure into that is simple enough. Even if it’s a reward the adventurers are paid by an NPC and not found inside a chest in some dungeon. If the “plot arc” resolves itself without your typical adventuring activities, then it shouldn’t result in your PC leveling up in their adventuring class. But if that’s the case, why wouldn’t everyone just turn full murder-hobo? Because, dear reader, another reason I like XP/GP just fine is that XP doesn’t have to be the only kind of in-game reward.

Did you ever wonder why there was no experience award for magic items in BX and other older editions? Likewise, they have no listed market prices. I believe it’s because magic items are intended as their own rewards. That magic armor doesn’t give you experience points. It gives you a freaking suit of magic armor! Actually, it technically does give you XP by increasing the chances of your survival. There aren’t set prices because magic items are, well, magical. I am not saying that I make it impossible for my players’ PCs to sell or buy magic, but it’s very case by case. Magic items do reward the characters, just not with XP.

Likewise for story goals that don’t include “normal” adventures to accomplish. There should be some reward, but it might not be XP. As I said before, if you thwart the Ice King and save Princess Bubblegum and then she gives you and your party 100K gold pieces, that’s earned by adventuring and 100% grants XP. But what if she names you all Heroes of the Realm and knights you? There’s no cash, and no XP, but that is definitely a reward. Everyone in the kingdom respects you and people seek you out for more quests and hero-work. You probably attract the notice of the court and access to all sorts of rumors and favors. You aren’t suddenly name-level, but your fortunes have definitely improved.

"Personal Goals" XP is no different. You’re finally getting the chance to avenge your brother’s death? Awesome! Let’s have a great scene where you get to confront the guy and have it out with nine-fingered man. When you win, maybe there’s loot, maybe not. Maybe achieving the goal contains an in-game reward like with the princess. Perhaps your vengeance clears the family name, and now you can restore your title? To me, personal character goals are meant primarily as RP opportunities and fodder for the DM to tailor the adventures to the player's interests, Not an XP source.

If achieving that kind of goal doesn’t mean anything to the player because “it’s just RP” then maybe he needs better goals, or maybe these types of RP goals aren’t for him. Next time maybe he can say “My lifelong goal is to kill a dragon and take its hoard!” This is why I often have powerful NPC lords and ladies who aren’t necessarily name-level adventurers. They’re influence isn’t acquired by how many hit points they have. In less civilized places, “tougher” nobles (with levels) may be more common, though.

Remember, these rules aren’t intended to cover everything, so you need to decide how you want to handle the things that aren’t spelled out. Characters can do an awful lot in the game without worrying about what level they are, especially in a game as flexible and rules-light as BX. So before worrying too much about changing things like XP for GP, look a little deeper and ask how it can work for your games instead of how it can’t.

Moldvay Musings XXI: Surprise!

Surprise is one of those rules that I often see misapplied or simply done wrong. I admit I've not always done it correctly in the heat of the moment, but I honestly don't know why some people have trouble with it Perhaps it's because of its actual simplicity. In any case, let's take a look at it, shall we?

Like many rules in games like BX, the surprise mechanic is fairly abstract and is used to cover a lot of different scenarios. Being surprised is not just standing agog at the fact that there are six goblins with spears in front of you. Neither is it necessarily a "jump scare" type ambush.

Being surprised can be as simple as just being caught flat-footed; or a moment's inattention that gave the opposition the chance to act first. Maybe the door took an extra shove to open or the floor was a bit uneven. The point is you're playing a bit of catch-up for a few seconds.

Once the DM makes the call that surprise is at least possible for one or both groups, I think there are two main areas that throw some people off mechanically: The order of events and the nature of the dice rolls themselves.

Surprise isn't rolled until step 5 of the turn order. By that time, the party has already entered the area. Narratively speaking, people would expect to hear about the encounter right at that point. The thing to remember is that all this is more or less happening at once.

"If surprise is possible, the DM should roll 1d6 for each side in the encounter. A result of 1 or 2 for either side indicates that the side is surprised (unless given otherwise in the monster description)."

The stumbling block here seem to be that the die roll for "your" side is actually based on your opponent, not you (the PCs). It's the chance you are surprised, not of you doing the surprising. This becomes apparent when dealing with creatures whose surprise roll is not the default 1-2. For example, a bugbear surprises on a 1-3. That means the chance of PCs being surprised goes up.I've had to remind people of this at the table more than once.

I'd like to point out that surprise can actually be a big help to PCs. With smart play, the PCs will have many opportunities to be the surprise as opposed to the surprised. Things like sneaking thieves reconnoitering, careful listening, and detection spells give a party a decent to get the drop on things. It's important to pay attention to the text on B23. It points out that surprise is not always possible, but that doesn't mean it can't be possible for one side and not the other. Honestly, in my experience, PCs being surprised actually doesn't come up all that often.

Despite this, I frequently hear complaints from players that surprise is just for screwing the PCs over: "How can we be surprised by the goblins?! We're in a dungeon! We're ALWAYS expecting an attack!" and so forth.

If this sounds familiar, perhaps consistently applying these rules in a way that doesn't slow down play can smooth things out a bit and let you enjoy the added richness they can give to your encounters. 

Moldvay Musings XX: Saving Throws

"Save or die is so stupid! One bad die roll and my PC is dead?! LAME!"

I can't count the number of times I've heard these complaints or some variation of them. It's a hallmark of old-school D&D, like dying during Traveler character generation, that gets repeated as a standard dismissal or condemnation of the older rules sets.

Yes, a saving throw comes down to a single die roll. And yes, a failed one can result in a character dying. But allow me to present some of the rationale behind them and how I interpret them in my games not as a rebuttal necessarily, but at least to show another perspective. I should point out I am far from the first to do this and many of my thoughts are based upon others'.

First of all, what is a saving throw? Well, in Moldvay it's defined as "...the chance that a special attack may be avoided or will have less than the normal effect." (B26). Not to get pedantic, but let's look at the wording of this for just a moment, shall we?

"a special attack may be avoided"

Many special attacks require a successful to-hit before a save is even necessary. Poison attacks are the obvious example of this. The snake must successfully bite you before you need to worry about its venom. So right there you have multiple "buffers" between you and the dreaded Save or Die.

1. You are forced to fight the snake. This isn't a forgone conclusion, what with things like reactions, encounter distances, and running away taken into account.
2. The snake successfully hits you. Depending on things like initiative, marching order, and armor class, the snake might not even get a hit in before being dealt with.
3. Assuming the above two sets of factors go against you, THEN you make your saving throw.

Some attacks have areas of effects (breath weapons) and/or are magical (wands, spells, etc.) and don't roll to-hit. However these are generally from more powerful foes that low-level characters should seriously think twice about facing unprepared. That's not to say sutff doesn't happen, but it should mitigate things somewhat.

Finally, it should be pointed out a couple concepts that have been touched on a bit on this blog before.

1.  "D&D characters die frequently" - Frank Mentzer. In older versions of D&D, it was fully expected to rack up a body count, especially at lower levels. Character creation was simple enough that the loss of your 1st level fighter was a 10 minute interruption at best. Once you got to higher levels and had some investment in the PC, well then point #2 comes into it.
2. Death is a speedbump at mid-to-higher levels. Even if your party doesn't have a cleric capable of casting Raise Dead, you can probably find an NPC that can. Likewise, spells like Resist Fire are going to make that red dragon less scary. Sure, your 10th level Thief might get unlucky with a cockatrice, but Flesh to Stone isn't quite so hard to find as it once was, is it?
3. I wish I could find the original for this, which I believe is attributed to Gary, but to paraphrase, "A saving throw usually means that you've already screwed up and should probably be dead. It's a chance to avoid the worst of the consequences." So when the fireball goes off and you only take half damage, maybe you got luck and were partway behind something. Or maybe you managed to dive out of the way. But it started with you standing there in the line of fire.

Moldvay Musings XIX: Doors

I've blogged before about magically barring and opening doors as well as secret doors, but a recent thread on Dragonsfoot got me looking over the text on just plain old doors in dungeons.

Moldvay (B21) says:

NORMAL DOORS: Doors in a dungeon are usually closed, and are often stuck or locked. A lock must usually be picked by a thief. An unlocked door must be forced open to pass through it. To force open a door, roll Id6; a result of 1 or 2 (on Id6) means that the door is forced open. The roll should be adjusted by a character's Strength score adjustment. The number needed to open a door can never be less than 1 nor greater than 1-5.

Once a door is opened, it will usually swing shut when released unless it is spiked or wedged open. Doors will usually open automatically for monsters, unless the door is held, spiked, or closed with magical spells.

There's a lot to unpack here, given such a short entry, but that's part of BX's beauty, IMO.

First off, nearly everything described about doors is qualified with terms like "usually" or "often," leaving room for the DM to use their discretion and judgement. The language helps paint a picture of what dungeons are usually like. Doors warped and swollen in their frames bu the damp, or latches rusted shut. If it's a more heavily used location, like an active lair, perhaps a stuck door is rarer. Locks are still a thing, though.

This brings us to the next part: opening said doors. Locks are a thief's job, obviously. Of course a failed roll could lead to a brawny PC forcing it open as if it were stuck. This gives a sense of how these obstacles are expected to be handled. The smart party tries stealth first, force second.

The last part of this section seems at first a bit "gamey" in its language. Doors just swinging shut and especially the part about them simply opening automatically for the monsters. My own interpretation of this is that the location's denizens know the place well and are used to the doors' fiddly little ways. I wouldn't have a door just pop open for a creature that couldn't normally operate it, e.g. no hands or unintelligent.

As far as swinging shut, I interpret that as doors that no longer hang true on their hinges and naturally fall back closed. Again, this isn't every door all the time, but it can happen.

So all this begs the question of why? Why have door stick and slam shut? Why make it so the party has to take the time and effort to pick its lock, or force it open? The answer is time. All these efforts cost the party time. As classic D&D is a game of resource management and exploration, the players will have to make choices. Do we waste another turn trying to pick this lock? Do we risk attracting some wandering monster's attention with the noise of forcing open this door? How long until the current torch burns out?

But what if that's the door that leads to the PCs' goal? Or the lower levels? Aren't you just screwing with them by leaving whether the game progresses up to chance like that?

While you certainly can run a "pure" sandbox like that, with zero plot or plan; most experienced DMs follow the guideline of either A) not putting something critical out of reach because of one bad die roll, or B) Always have more than one way for the party to move forward. Maybe the lock is too tough for the thief and the door is too strong to be battered down. However, maybe there's a secret door they could find that will let them through? Or maybe there's a key to be found? I'm not suggesting this be the case with every door, and I admit it's still possible for bad luck to derail things, but used judiciously these wrinkles can add a lot of detail to an adventure.

Moldvay Musings XVIII: Encounter Distance

Greetings! It's been a little while, but  I will try to be a little more consistent with my postings.

What with COVID-19, the end of the world, and everything, I have actually been playing D&D fairly regularly via Discord and Roll20. I started a very basic Keep on the Borderlands run for my group using Labyrinth Lord/AEC rules. Nothing exceptional to report, but it's been fun dusting of a classic like that.

Now, one of the little quirks of BX (as well as some other editions) is that distances and ranges (not Areas of Effect) are converted to yards in the wilderness (as opposed to feet indoors). More on that in a bit.


After a couple of wilderness encounters (some lizard folk and a random run-in with some giant boars), it got me thinking about the encounter sequence, specifically distances. In BX -and by extension LL- when there is a random encounter, the DM is supposed to roll to determine how far apart the party and the monster(s) are when they notice one another (assuming the terrain/floorplan doesn't dictate otherwise). In the dungeon, this roll is (2d6) x 10 feet. In the wilderness, it is (4d6) x 10 yards.

The changeover mostly makes sense. In a typical dungeon, the party is not moving very fast. They usually have very limited light, in unfamiliar territory, often tight quarters, etc. Ranged weapons are limited by low ceilings and crowded conditions. Outside, you can arc a shot much farther. [Though since taking up archery, I can say that the ranges in D&D for targeting a single, mobile target are ridiculous (e.g. bowhunting). Extreme long range with a modern compound bow in those circumstances is 70-80 yards, and that would be with severe penalties. But I digress.]

One of the pitfalls of encounter distance is that it can lead to an encounter getting stalled before it starts. In the case of the boars, the party's ranger spotted the boars over 200 yards away. This gave the party ample time to pepper them with spells and missiles as the pigs closed the distance. The party's druid slapped an Entangle spell on two of them and things ended fairly quick after that.

Now, I know that if this had been a straight BX game (no druids) and the random distance had been closer, things could have gone very differently. So I am not faulting the party or the rules. That's just how the dice go sometimes. In fact, I think the players were very wise to minimize their risk. It was a random encounter with creatures that typically carry no treasure. The risk/reward ratio was not in their favor here.

The DM may want to take a moment when setting up such an encounter to think about a few distance-related factors, especially in the wilderness. 1) Does the range that was rolled make sense? Maybe there are terrain features that make is unreasonable (tree cover, uneven ground, etc.)  2) Will these features affect things like movement rates, line of sight for spells, cover from missiles, etc.? 3) Remember that the implication is that, unless one side is surprised, both groups become aware of each other at the start of the encounter. If either side is surprised, the distance is reduced to a maximum of 40 yards (X23), so surprising an orc patrol 100 yards away is a no-go.

Because of things like this, I highly recommend going through all the steps "behind the screen" first and figure out the logical way to set things up before beginning to describe the situation to the players. The encounter in general will flow much more smoothly.

Moldvay Musings XVII: DM Information - Scenarios

The first sections of Part 8 in Moldvay (Dungeon Master Information) fascinate me on several levels. While the "B" in "BX" is by its nature basic and tries to keep things simple to let people get their feet wet who might have been new to the game (or running it), this section actually holds a lot of cool stuff that's far from just typical murder-hoboing and ties in to some of my thoughts on a BX setting. Not to mention demonstrating the BX wasn't "the kiddie version" of D&D.

The chapter is broken down into several parts that can walk a tyro DM through creating an adventure and even lay the groundwork for a rich campaign. Let's start by taking a look at the first bit: Choosing a scenario. Moldvay defines a scenario nicely for us in the following passage:

B51:

"A scenario is a background theme or idea which ties the dungeon together. A scenario will help keep a dungeon from becoming a boring repetition of 'open the door, kill the monster, take the treasure.' A good scenario always gives the players a reason for adventuring. The DM should also design a dungeon for the levels of characters who will be playing in it. A good scenario will also give the DM a reason for choosing specific monsters and treasures to put in the dungeon."

The idea seems, well, basic, doesn't it? Remember this was 1981, though. Not everyone implicitly understood this. I love that he spells out that adventure design should have a theme and a rationale and should avoid simple grinds. He neatly sums up monster ecology too by stating one should choose critters appropriate to the scenario.

He then goes on to list several kinds of scenarios. While many of these can be translated into a dungeon crawl (or contain one), it's the different reasons for the adventure in the first place that are the real meat on the bones. The doesn't claim to be exhaustive, but I would be hard-pressed to think of any adventures that don't fall broadly under one or more of these categories.

1. Exploring the Unknown
2. Investigating a Chaotic Outpost
3. Recovering Ruins
4. Destroying an Ancient Evil
5. Visiting a Lost Shrine
6. Fulfilling a Quest
7. Escaping from Enemies
8. Rescuing Prisoners
9. Using a Magic Portal
10. Finding a Lost Race

Now obviously, several of these are pretty standard. The section even gives examples of published adventures that fit some of the categories (B2 is the quintessential investigation of a chaotic outpost), but some of these are ones that I've seen much less often. When was the last time your campaign found a lost race or reclaimed ruins for settlement? That's some good adventure fodder there. You could even combine scenarios. Perhaps the PCs must use a magic portal to find a lost shrine?

The next parts of this section are relatively mundane, but still useful. They cover such issues as the location of the dungeon proper (Is it a cave? A crypt? A castle?), the monsters within, the map itself, and how it's stocked. The random stocking tables aren't always the best way to fill the map, but they can be handy at times.

The final section offers good advice and help with prepping an NPC party ahead of time. You might not need one right away, but like treasure maps, you'll be happy you have one ready instead of having to work one up in the middle of a session. 

Moldvay Musings XVI, Part 2: Beat to Quarters!

The HMS Suckerfish, a small sailing warship equipped with a catapult, sets sail from her home port. The ship has a trained crew of 10 sailors, a navigator, and a full complement of 25 marines. Her destination is 450 miles away, a journey of 5 days (90 miles per day base speed) with favorable wind & weather. A roll of 2d6 is made for each day.

Day 1: Roll result = 9 A strong breeze. 120 miles covered (+1/3 move)
Day 2: Roll result = 2 Becalmed. No movement.
Day 3: Roll result = 5 Moderate breeze or broad reaching. 60 miles covered (2/3 move). 180 total miles traveled. But the Ocean wandering encounter roll came up as a 5. A d8 says its a Swimmer. A 9 on the subtable roll says its a Sea Snake. This is really a non-encounter, unless someone goes swimming/overboard. Moving on...
Day 4: Roll result = 3 Ext. light breeze or beating before the wind. Only 30 miles covered. 210 total.
Day 5: Roll result = Normal winds. Normal (90 miles) movement. 300 miles total. But another encounter. This one comes up Men. To simplify, this is our ship to ship encounter.

Normal winds will be simplified to normal weather. Regular visibility is 24 miles and a full crew means it's reasonable that the Suckerfish has a lookout. No surprise is possible under such conditions. (X64) Ship encounters are considered to start at 300 yards (the other ship can be positively identified). Rolling for direction (a d6 for the hex faces) a 1 says the other ship appears off the starboard bow (ahead and to the right). It's an enemy ship! A small galley fitted with a ram and catapult. Why is a galley way out here away from the coast? Who knows?

The Suckerfish has the weather gage (they are upwind) and the ships move at the same encounter speeds. Still, the galley has a 50% chance of staying clear (01-50 = success). An 87! The Suckerfish closes the gap and initiative is rolled. 5 for the Suckerfish, 1 for the galley.

At 300 yards, the catapult is fired with flaming pitch. Four marines man the weapon, meaning it fires every 5 rounds and attacks as a 4th level fighter (X64). The galley has AC 8 and the attack roll is a 16, a hit! The flames deal 2 hull points of damage. Dropping the galley from 80 to 78, but the fire continues to burn. The sailors (10) abandon their posts to put out the flames. It will take them 2 turns to put out the fire and during that time flames will continue to spread and damage the ship. The galley is using the rowers anyway for the encounter, so the sailors can be spared.

Next the galley fires its catapult back. This time it's a rock. An 18 hits handily (AC 8), dealing 11 points of (3d6) damage to the Suckerfish's hull. She is now at 69 hull points. Both ships move toward each other, even with the Suckerfish's reduction in speed (-10%) due to damage, the ships will be too close to use their catapults next round.

Initiative comes up a 2 and 2. Simultaneous actions! The galley is attempting to ram and the Suckerfish is trying to grapple. The galley needs an 11 to hit. 15! The ram deals 50 hull points (1d4+4 x 10. Rolling a 1). The galley would rather not grapple and tries to evade (so as to ram again). The Suckerfish needs a 1 or 2 on a d6 to tie onto the galley. A 1! The lines snake out and the ships are grappled. At this point melee ensues. The crew and marines of the Suckerfish are at a -2 in the first round as they board the galley. After that it's just a large combat.

In the end, assuming the Suckerfish is victorious, she still suffered 61 points of damage out of her 80 total hull points. Nearly 80%! Her speed is drastically reduced (18 miles per day instead of 90) and the best the crew can do for repairs at sea will only get the ship back to 50% for a speed of 45 mpd. Licking her wounds, she limps to the nearest friendly port of call for proper refitting.

Moldvay Musings XVI, Part 1: The Briny Deep

'The sea is an awesome place, the home of terrible monsters, the source of unpredictable currents and strange mists, and the scene of terrible storms that can smash the strongest ship to splinters. Perhaps the most deadly of the sea's hazards, however, is the lack of landmarks. Once out of sight of land, there is little to steer by. A small mistake in navigation or a sudden storm can drive a ship hopelessly off course until a familiar shore is sighted. Only the bravest and most hardy adventurers dare challenge the sea!'

-X63 

                      

I've talked a lot about aquatic encounters but so far haven't discussed water travel itself. You can find most of what you need rules-wise in Cook's section "Part 9: Special Adventures." It really could have been named "Adventures at Sea", since the only topic really covered is waterborne adventuring.

It seems that things like ocean travel are somewhat uncommon in many D&D games. Or if it does happen, it's mostly just getting from point A to B a la Isle of Dread so that the "real" adventure can start. I'm not saying it never happens, but it's far from the norm.

That's a shame, since Part 9 includes nearly everything one needs (with a little common sense interpretation) to run a full-on nautical campaign. Granted, it doesn't include "Sea Machine" style rules for huge naval battles, but that's true of BX for land battles as well. Let's take a look at what rules a DM would realistically need to have an oceangoing-based campaign, and how Moldvay/Cook addresses those needs.

It seems to me that nautically specific rules would need to include:

• Ships and their stats: things like capacity, speed, toughness.
• Wind and weather
• Navigation
• Monster/animal encounters
• Ship to ship combat: maneuvering, attacking, and ship damage.
• In the water: fighting, swimming, and drowning.

Rather than regurgitate every rule from the books, I'm simply going to cite the relevant sections for now. Later, we'll show some examples of the rules in action.

1. Ship stats: This one is pretty obvious. There is a fairly comprehensive list of waterborne vehicles on page X63, from rafts to warships, along with most of the relevant figures. In addition, the purchase costs are in the equipment section on page X9. Obviously the ship names are fairly generic here, but that's a benefit really. For instance, it wouldn't take much imagination to use the river boat listing for a chinese sampan.
2. Wind and weather: To my thinking, the weather section on X63-64 is one of the most impressive examples of BX's ability to provide detail without sacrificing brevity or clarity. In less than one column of text, it offers both "basic" and "expert" rules (see what I did there?) to choose from. A DM can use the simple rules, which address everything from being becalmed to wrecked in a storm with a roll. Or one can use the optional Weather Modification chart for more granularity while staying consistent with the original mechanic. 
3. Navigation: Navigators are nicely covered under the specialists section of the Expert rules.  
4. Encounters: X57's wilderness encounters charts offer options for swamps, rivers, and oceans. I use the rivers table for freshwater lakes as well.
5. Ship combat: I confess to never having used the BX ship combat rules on X64 in play. Not because they are bad, but it simply hasn't come up. The last game I ran where a ship was attacked, a barge was attacked from the riverbank then boarded. The rules here cover visibility on clear or poor weather, surprise, evasion, and the fighting itself. There are rules for ramming, catapults, burning ships, repairing damage, grappling/boarding, and sinking. [SIDE NOTE: It always bothered me, the idea of sailing vessels having catapults. Logically the rigging (sails/ropes/masts) would interfere with the arc of the projectiles. In re-reading the section for this post, I see that this was actually taken into account. Only warships (which cost extra) can have catapults. The conceit being that their decks are modified to allow a clear field of fire.]
6. In the water: BX keeps rules for things like swimming simple. By default, PCs know how to swim. Metal armor or heavy loads will drag you down. Fighting in the water is difficult. Pages X51 and 63 give you enough to make intelligent rulings from. 

In part two of this topic (next post), I'll put up a sample ocean voyage, complete with weather, encounters, and an enemy ship! 

Moldvay Musings XV: I Do Declare!

In an earlier post, I touched on situations that require "pre-declaring" actions in BX. That is to say, before initiative is rolled. This is an interesting artifact of older D&D, as I do not think it is used much in "modern" RPGs. Honestly, we've hardly used it ourselves in my group and I don't even recall using it back in the day. Maybe as my beard grays my gray matter is getting a bit tired.

There are a couple of reasons I think this idea has fallen out of favor. For one, it feels a bit more like a legacy mechanic from D&D's wargame roots than something that was consciously added to the early game; kind of like the whole idea of phases to one's actions (Melee, Ranged, etc.). Newer editions by contrast simply tell the player how much of which kinds of actions they can complete on their turn.

The second reason is that pre-declaring can feel like it is making it harder for players to react tactically in an encounter. If I already declared I was casting Bless, then does that mean I can't switch to Cure Light Wounds when I see our fighter get wounded?

These are valid concerns and they do affect the nature of game play, but before dismissing them out of hand, let's look at some of the benefits of this rule.

1. What's good for the goose. Enemy/NPC/Monster spell casters should need to declare as well. Perhaps as a DM you don't want to tell the party exactly which spell is being flung at them, but the PCs should at least be able to see that the pesky goblin shaman is starting to chant and wave his arms around. This lets the characters A) know who the enemy spell casters are, and B) plan accordingly.
2. Spell interruption as a tactic. It's true that would royally suck as a low level magic user if your only spell of the day got fizzled because some kobold scored one lousy point of damage from a sling stone. Of course, as mentioned in the first point, that means the PCs can do the same thing to the bad guys (assuming the initiative die is behaving). This can give weaker PCs the opportunity to have a greater effect on the combat, especially if they have a good DEX or other initiative bonuses (like halflings). Also, it gives the aforementioned MU that's tapped out on spells something to do: Just chuck a dagger at any enemy casters and Presto! Old School Counterspell! This also gives players a chance to do something about that incoming Fireball before they're stuck saving for half damage. 
3. Making magic more than artillery. If your spell casters are vulnerable in this way, it makes the successful use of any spell more useful. When you look at the spell lists in BX, not that many spells are really designed for use in the middle of the fight. Even with a very generous interpretation of what constitutes a "combat" spell (eg healing magic, protection spells, etc.), it only works out to approximately 50%. If a magic-user or cleric's spells aren't as "useful" in a fight, then it gives the players (and the DM) the opportunity to explore some of the other cool magical stuff these characters can do. (For ideas, might I recommend perusing the series of Random Spell Assessments on this very blog!). This also plays into what I've described as a more BX feel to magic, with a more distinctive "flavor" to magic and spell casting.

Personally, I could see going either way with this rule (ignoring or implementing). On the one hand, I know that players generally are loathe to be limited by arbitrary mechanics, but on the other, I do think that this could bring an interesting wrinkle to the game. Some house rules I might consider if I were to try it could include things like: 

• An ability check (WIS for clerics, INT for MU/Elves) to retain the failed spell. ie it fails, but you don't forget the spell for the day.
• Letting PCs or monsters shield their side's spell caster to grant them an AC/cover bonus until the spell goes off.

Moldvay Musings XIV, Part B: Item Creation

The second part of this section has to do with making physical magic items. Either reproducing one listed in the books or making a brand-new one. A few guidelines are given but, even more so than with spell research, DM discretion is involved.

Unlike new spells, making a magic item requires a caster of name level. MUs, Elves, and Clerics can all create items, but clerics are somewhat more limited than the others. They can only make items that they themselves could use. Note that this is not the same as cleric-only items. Magic armor would be one example that comes to mind.

It's also worth noting that nothing says the caster has to be the only person involved in the item's creation. Perhaps a jeweler crafts the actual ring or medallion that is to be enchanted to the wizard's specifications.

Another thing to keep in mind is that acquiring the materials required are potential adventures in and of themselves. Minotaur bones, meteoric iron, or a mirror that's held a medusa's reflection are not things one can buy in town.

"These items should be difficult to obtain, and the spell caster will often have to adventure to acquire the items, for there are no magic stores."

-X51 (emphasis mine)

Side Note: I don't know that this line was intended to populate over into all facets of a BX setting, but the idea that a place to buy magic items is by default nonexistent is an interesting one. I know that I have ignored this quite frequently in order to give the players more options when it came to what to spend their money on. I am led to ponder a bit about the scope of the game and what the original intentions were, but that's a much larger topic than the one in front of us. Another time, perhaps.

Back on topic, without getting into the specifics of costs and crafting times it's important to look at them in terms of the investment they represent to the PC spellcaster. This includes money and time.

PCs creating items are going to be out of the normal day to day of the campaign for a while. They aren't going to be dungeon crawling while creating a carpet of flying or a ring of spell storing, but they may need to go on adventures ahead of time to get what they need for the task. Alternately, they may hire lower level PCs (or send apprentices) to get the goods. In fact, that is a great way to run a multi-tiered campaign: where the lower level PCs are in the employ of the higher leveled ones. Or as hooks for low level parties working for a high level NPC.

The investment of money is another factor to consider. Magic items can cost tens, if not hundreds, of thousands of gold pieces to make. The crafting PC would likely need at least one of the following ways to raise the necessary capital:

1. Have saved a lot of cash from earlier adventures.
2. Work for a wealthy patron. Possibly royalty or rich merchants.
3. Plan on selling the item and/or take commissions.

It's also important to note that in both spell research and item creation, there is a 15% chance of failure. This is rolled after the time and money are spent! So the PC's investment is gone either way. An important factor when weighing the costs and benefits.

Finally, it's worth looking at a brief passage on X52:

A spell caster may want to use magic in a way not covered by spells or production: cleansing a defiled temple, opening a gate to another world, setting magical traps, and so on.

This opens up a whole wealth of opportunities within a campaign. Perhaps that party wants to time travel back to when a lich was still a living mortal? Or travel to another plane (not something expressly covered in BX)?  DMs and players alike should see this as a great opportunity to get creative and really give a campaign a distinct flavor beyond "We kill it and take its stuff!"

Moldvay Musings XIV, Part A: Spell Research

One of the comments I hear from time to time from players (and sometimes DMs) about "0E" games like BX is that magic is fairly limited compared to later versions of the game. Though I've written in the past about how I see this more as a feature than a bug, the Expert rules do include a concise yet robust method to give spell-casters more flexibility and freedom. Namely the spell research and magic item creation rules on page X51. I'm going to focus on spells for now, then follow up next time with items. I've talked about both of these when discussing name level mages and their towers, but I wanted to look at the processes themselves here.

The rules for spell research are fairly loose, relying more on DM judgement and context within the game than supplying a hard and fast price list or formula. This is a better choice, in my opinion. Especially for a game like BX which eschews codifying every little detail. To quote Matt Finch, "Rulings, not rules."

The one part that is spelled out (heh, see what I did there?) is a simple cost formula for time and money: 2 weeks and 1000gp per spell level. 

What this section really emphasizes is the idea that the DM and player work together to come out with the spell's level, effects, range, etc. The book describes it as a proposal submitted by the player to the DM, who then A) decides whether such a spell is even possible, then figures out the details. I think a more collaborative approach is perfectly possible however, as long as it's understood that the DM has the final say. 

Oddly, when I talk to fellow BX-ers, it seems that spell research rarely comes up in their games. At least, I haven't seen many examples of it. This is too bad, since it's a great opportunity for player characters to really contribute to the game. Not only does it give their character something potentially unique about them, but it gets the player engaged in the campaign on a different level entirely. 

And that, IMNSHO, is a very good thing. 

Moldvay Musings XIII: Reactions

"For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction."

-Newton's Third Law                           

Sorry, Isaac. Not necessarily in D&D.

Like morale, reactions rolls have also faded from the later editions of the glorious mess that is Dungeons & Dragons. Sure, there are skills and such that allow for things like diplomacy and bluffing, but I am not a fan of too many defined skills in D&D. It's fine in games that were designed from the start for them -Runequest/BRP springs to mind- but they as much a hindrance as a benefit in old-school play (whatever that means). 

Back on topic, the encounter reaction rules in versions like BX are incredibly simple. Other than the Charisma adjustments table, they are one paragraph of text and one 2d6 table of five possible results (B24). The rules simply state that while some monsters will nearly always behave in the same way (e.g. mindless undead attacking), it is possible for some creatures' actions to vary.  

I've covered a bit about hirelings in an earlier post, so I'm mostly sticking to the encounter mechanics here. Suffice to say, the retainer reaction rolls (B21) help add a layer of detail to an integral part of the BX-style game. Adventuring parties were assumed to include meatshields and the like. Uncharismatic PCs, miserly offers of pay, or poor treatment could make life difficult for a party that needs to pad its ranks or flesh out weak spots in its lineup.

As stated in the preceding section on party actions, if they choose to talk, they might influence the monsters' (or NPCs') attitude toward the encounter and, by extension, the PCs. In my games, I interpret "talk" loosely. A common language isn't always required. An offer of food to a predator can be as effective an overture as speaking confidently and calmly to a goblin patrol in their tongue. (Side Note: This can be a case for using alignment languages and making those INT bonus language slots worth something in one's game!)

We didn't deserve you, Steve!

A couple of caveats to consider. One, the DM always has the right to veto making a reaction roll and simply decide how monsters, etc. will act. An elven patrol is unlikely to let the party go after they just burned down the Sacred Oak, no matter how charismatic the PC spokesperson is! 

Two, even if a roll is made, there could be negative modifiers. The goblins mentioned earlier might be fine with avoiding a fight under normal circumstances. However, if the PCs are there to stop their shaman from performing a blood sacrifice that will give them victory over the villagers, the patrol just might be less inclined to believe the party is "just passing through." Even unintelligent creatures can have circumstantial biases. In real life, encountering a bear in the woods will usually not result in an attack (if you aren't stupid about it, that is), but a grizzly sow with cubs can be another matter! Tossing her some iron rations is probably not going to cut it, even for evasion purposes.

I guess what bothers me about this mechanic falling by the wayside is it removed a big incentive for actual roleplay in a dungeon environment, as opposed to just chatting up the tavern wench for -ahem- "rumors." To me, the BX reaction mechanic was an elegant solution that allowed for player agency and a bit of luck.

I confess I don't know much about 5th ed. What little I've played of it didn't seem to lend itself to this, but I could be wrong. 

Moldvay Musings XII: Morale

The morale mechanic has apparently fallen out of favor in later editions of D&D. I could paw through different books and the intertubes to find the exact edition where it went away, but that's not really what I'm interested in talking about. Rather, I'd like to talk a bit about how it is employed in many classic RPGs like B/X and why, in my oh-so-humble opinion, it is a very good thing.

First off, I should mention that the morale rules in Moldvay (B27) are expressly listed as optional. The game can be played without them. In my experience,they add a level of realism and survivability to the game that makes them more than worthwhile. Let's take a quick look at the opening lines of the section:

Any creature in battle may try to run away or surrender. Characters are never forced to do this; a character always reacts in the way the player wishes. NPCs and monsters, however, may decide to run away or surrender.

Two main takeaways to consider here:

1) "Characters react in the way the player wishes." There are things like fear spells and effects (Giant Shrews, anyone?) that can effect a PC, but whether to fight on in the face of dire odds is completely in the hands of the players.

2) "Any creature in battle may try to run away or surrender." This is an element of morale that I don't always remember to apply. I usually just have a creature run away if it fails its roll. That's fine for dumb beasts, but an intelligent creature may throw in the towel (especially is escape looks unlikely).This can lead to fun RP between the victors and the vanquished, not to mention alignment considerations by the players.

Remember how a decent charisma score can be a boon not only when hiring retainers (reaction rolls) but in giving them better morale? Here's a fun one: NPCs could decide to surrender to the bad guys if the PCs are losing a fight (or look like they might lose)! They might even switch sides! Weirdly, a counter-argument for not having all the hirelings just work for the one charismatic PC. If the NPCs are loyal to different PCs, that should mean separate morale rolls, which means it's not all or nothing when checking morale. Some minions might break while others remain. 

I mentioned realism and survivability. It seems perfectly realistic than not every encounter ends up a fight to the death. Sometimes nerves fail. Even a bestial predator may decide the PCs are not such an easy meal and take to its heels. BX gets a rep for being fairly lethal. Using morale in your game means some fights end a little sooner, which means fewer to-hit rolls against the PCs, thus less damage taken and fewer casualties. 

Moldvay Musings XI: Initiative

In a recent game, the PCs had a wilderness encounter with a nest of four giant scorpions. Fortunately for the characters, they were mounted and were able to turn things into a running battle where they literally ran the monsters  in circles as they peppered them with arrows. The monsters could catch up with the PCs each round, but not also attack.

By the end,the fight had become a simple matter of tedious attrition. After the session, I thought about it and how it might have been handled differently. Not to punish the players for using tactics, but to keep it more exciting. (Though honestly, they should have just run away). I chided myself a little for not applying circumstantial modifiers for things like terrain slowing them or giving cover from missile fire to the monsters (they were in a relatively dense forest). The main thing I found though was something in the rules as written that I have always been aware of, but seem to have difficulty remembering for reasons uncertain: In BX, initiative is supposed to be re-rolled every round.

At some point in our group’s history with various editions and systems, we’ve fallen out of that habit and simply rolled for initiative at the start of an encounter. We use individual initiative as opposed to group, so at first I was thinking it was just a good way to reduce excess die rolling, but it turns out that rolling every round matters more than I first realized.

For example, in the above circumstances the kiting players wouldn’t have been able to rely on going first each round (they’d rolled well) to evade the monsters again & again. One low initiative and the scorpions would do their thing. This ties into the rules for Defensive Movement, i.e. Fighting Withdrawal and Retreat (B24). To use these types of movement, one must declare intent to do so before rolling the round’s initiative. This increases the risks, but does keep things fresher. Keep in mind the rule applies to monsters as well as PCs.

The other circumstance where an action is “pre-declared” in BX is spell casting. This one always catches me out because the rule is listed in Cook, not Moldvay. A character wishing to cast a spell that round must A) say so, and B) declare which spell before the initiative order is rolled. Again, upping the tension in the fight. I usually haven’t applied this rule in the past because I felt like it weakened already fragile spellcasters, but I am considering reintroducing it.

For a more detailed discussion on some of these and other mechanics, I highly recommend reading the “An Interpretation of Basic D&D” post over at the Basic Dungeons and Dragons blog.

Moldvay Musings X: We have liftoff!

I've talked about flying in D&D before, but I wanted to briefly touch upon a nugget of wisdom in Cook that I recently re-read.

In the section on Traveling by Air (X20), it actually gives guidelines for how big (in HD) a creature needs to be to pick up or carry a person. This is useful not only for transport, but for whether a monster can snatch up a PC and carry him off into the air. For example, 3+ HD is required to lift a halfling or smaller. Therefore, technically, a cockatrice could carry a halfling or gnome off. Weird!

This information is incredibly handy, IMO, as it gives me as a DM a quick reference to decide about the tactics of aerial encounters, which can be complex enough as it is. For example, my group recently fought some harpies. While there were no hobbit-sized PCs or NPCs, it would have been nice to know ahead of time that they could have been carried off. (The idea of a charmed halfling just holding out his arms and being flown to the nest for devouring makes me laugh.)

Moldvay Musings IX: Pursuit and Evasion

Looking over some of the responses to the last post, where I talked a bit about wandering in the wilderness, it seems that people find rules explanations useful. So I thought I'd take a whack at a couple of BX rules that seems to generate confusion for some: Pursuit and Evasion.

In Basic, the pursuit rules are simply what happens when one side of a (potential) fight runs and the other gives chase in a dungeon. Obviously if the PCs are one of the sides, and the faster of the two, chances are what happens is whatever the PCs want to happen (they catch up, they let them go, etc.). 

Here's a basic scenario for pursuit and how it would break down. Unlike the last time, I've already rolled it out and know what happened, so I can provide step by step maps.

Dungeon Chase-

The Setup: A band of brave(ish?) adventurers have entered a dungeon. They open a door and step into the room to discover a pack of orcs. 

Round 1: Surprise rolls are made and both sides roll 2s. The PCs and orcs stare stupidly at one another for a moment.

Round 2: Initiative is rolled. The orcs get a 5 and the PCs a 6. The orcs' reaction roll is a 5 indicating they are hostile and will probably attack.

The party doesn't like the look of all those snarling tusks and decides to beat a hasty retreat. They use their running speed for movement (60'), which gets them to the corner turn in the hallway.

The orcs take off after them. The monsters have a move of 120' so they can catch the PCs if they want, but the party's magic-user cleverly tossed a pouch of coins on the ground behind him as they fled. There is a 50% chance the orcs will stop for the loot and it turns out they do (I rolled a d6. Odds they ignored it, evens they stopped. I rolled a 4).

Round 3: The PCs move another 60' and reach the outside and daylight. The DM rules that since the wizard dropped the whole pouch and didn't scatter the coins, it only took the one round for the orcs to retrieve it. They run down the hall and see the PCs out in the sunshine. The DM rules that the orcs don't like the idea of fighting in the daylight and break off pursuit.

Now, there were a lot of things that could have happened differently there, but that gives you a short & sweet version of it. If it had been an unintelligent creature, like a giant lizard or some such, the party might have dropped food instead of treasure to distract it.  

Wilderness Pursuit-

The scale of wilderness pursuits makes mapping it less useful. The rules themselves favor a more abstract method as well. In a nutshell, if one group is surprised and the other is not, the latter may automatically avoid the encounter: remember the wilderness random encounter distances are 40-240 yards! If a group that did not surprise the other wants to avoid an encounter, and the second group isn't having any of that nonsense, then the Evasion Table on X23 is used. The DM is encouraged to make ad hoc rulings for factors like terrain, speed, or whatever is deemed relevant.

Example:

A group of four PCs and their three hirelings are traveling in the forest when they spot a group of 10 gnolls though the trees. The DM rolls for encounter distance and gets 100 yards as a result. Neither side is surprised (they spot one another simultaneously) and the gnolls seems hungry. The party decides this is a fight they'd rather avoid and flee deeper into the foliage. 

The party has 7 people total, the gnolls 10. This gives a 70% base chance of losing their pursuers. The DM also rules that the tree cover is thick enough to grant a +10% bonus (it would have been higher, but the gnolls' are keen-nosed). This gives the party an 80% chance of success. The dice are rolled and come up 44! The party spends a tense several minutes fleeing into cover and waiting for the gnolls to lose interest. 

If the odds weren't as favorable, the party could have upped their chances by splitting up, as smaller groups are more likely to evade bigger ones.

Had the party failed the roll, the gnolls would have closed the distance and -if faster than the PCs- had a 50% chance to force an encounter (using the PCs from the dungeon example, the gnolls are faster with 90'). If the gnolls fail to force the encounter, the party could attempt to evade again, but their direction is random and they cannot map. This process continues until:

1. The party successfully evades or stops trying to run.
2. The gnolls successfully catches them.
3. The gnolls give up the chase.

There are no specific rules for time increments in a wilderness pursuit, though the text mentions the possibility of a chase continuing for "several days." I feel like there must be something in the books (there usually is), but I don't see it. If I were to run such a situation, I would say each evasion attempt takes an hour, giving the abstract nature of moving through terrain, hiding, looking for signs of one's quarry, etc.

So the next time your group decides to exercise the better part of valor and skedaddle from certain doom, or decides to chase down those wascally kobolds, hopefully this will help clarify a few things. 

Moldvay Musings VIII: Into the Wild

I had written a longer, more rambling post that bounced between general thoughts on resource management to critiquing how such rules are often applied in-game. After looking over that train wreck of text, I opted to delete most of it and start over with a simple walkthrough of overland travel rules as sort of a Random Encounter Fun (REF) entry, but with a little more focus on rules instead of a specific critter.

A lot of players (and more than a few DMs) complain that tracking every little thing can be tedious. I find the main issue players have is that they fail to plan well before the actual adventuring begins, and DMs fail to take some of the factors that will matter into account when they plan the session.

There is a terrific example of an expert level party preparing for an overland journey on page X19. If the players know that you (the DM) will be having them track resources consistently, and you as DM are keeping track of time, then it can all flow fairly smoothly. It's really just a question of organization and some minimal prep.

Here's an example of what I mean by minimal. This is a map I made in about 5 minutes on the computer. It's all I need to run an overland adventure with the rules in the book. I've set no fixed encounters. If I wanted, I could include several days' worth of weather for added detail. All rolls in this example will be recorded as they happen. As of writing these words, I don't know how this will play out.

The premise? A party of four PCs start in the village. They have heard rumors that the wizard Examplo the Mad is likely dead and his evil tower to the Northeast is ripe for the pickings. To get there, they must traverse the Spooky Forest and the Haunted Hills. They know it's about 40-50 miles.

There is no road, which means A) slower travel times, and B) they would be wise to seek out a map or guide. Sadly, our heroes are more bold than wise and decide they merely need to steer NE and they'll get there eventually. They do have enough sense to buy rations for two weeks apiece (x 4  = 56 days) plus bedrolls, tents, and a mule to carry most of the extra gear. Under these conditions, the PCs can travel 12 miles per day on open ground (Their slowest member moves at 60'). The DM also decides to only roll for encounters once per day and once per evening's rest. 

Day 1: The land outside the village is open grasslands with trails made by trappers and woodcutters leading to the woods. The DM rules no problem, the path negates the chance of getting lost. The PCs camp that night just inside the forest. There are no grassland or forest encounters (52 days' of food left).

Day 2: The trails don't go far into the forest, so now the PCs (lacking a map, guide, or personal knowledge of the terrain) need to rely on their own senses of direction. They are also moving slower (2/3 normal rate for wooded terrain = 8 miles a day). For simplicity, we'll call it (very) roughly 1.5 hexes. 

The DM rolls a d6. On a 1-2, the party takes a wrong turn. Uh-oh, a 2! Rolling again, the die comes up a 4, so the party heads NW, all the while THINKING they're heading NE. The trouble is already beginning! They camp again. Luckily, the encounter gods are with them yet again. They have no trouble that day or that night. (48 days' food remaining)

Day 3: Another roll vs getting lost. A 3 means they stay on course. Mind you, they still think NW is NE. Since they are still deep in the Spooky Forest, they have no landmarks to set them aright. More bad news as an encounter comes up for the their night's rest. A 2 (flyer) and an 11 for woodland encounters means sprites! The DM rules that the quiet little clearing where the PCs have unknowingly bivouacked is quite near the lair of 22 sprites. A reaction roll of 9 lists as "leaves or considers offer." Now normally I'd say that would be the end of it, but sprites love their pranks so I don't think they'd let the PCs go scot free. The DM decides that the little jokers pull the mule's picket and then spook the poor beast.  While the PCs chase it down, the sprites steal 11 days worth of food (one half per sprite) from the saddlebags. The PCs eat their dinner and try to rest (33 days' left, leaving a week for each of them).

Day 4: Another travel roll yields a 1. Lost again! Direction roll is a 3. Two wrongs make a right and they're back on track, heading NE again! Their luck doesn't hold though. A wandering encounter roll during their days' travel comes up an 8: Dragon! "Luckily" it's not a REAL dragon, just a puny ELEVEN-HEADED HYDRA!

plus four more heads

Now, I'm not going to roll out a whole combat here, but it's probably not unfair to say that there are pretty good odds of four measly PCs getting their collective lunches handed to them here. And so, our noble heroes meet their fates in the Spooky Forest, never reaching the wizard's tower. If they had only had a guide or map, they might have avoided such a fate. Or not, random encounters be nasty!

There, now. That wasn't so hard, was it?