Hello! Do You Have Any Advice For Scaling Enemies? Im Trying To Create A Somewhat Epic Campaign For My

Hello! Do you have any advice for scaling enemies? I’m trying to create a somewhat epic campaign for my players to draw them into the game, but don’t want them to get squished, y’know? Thanks! =]

Alright, this one has been sitting in my inbox for WEEKS and I forgot about it.

You have my sincerest apologies. 

Shame upon me. Bad blog. Baaaad.

Now, the likelihood is that you are playing some variation of D&D, which is good. It gives me some groundwork to build off of with my attempts at advice.

The bad thing going for you is that, if you believe the books, D&D difficulty is entirely mathematical.

The good thing going for you is that this is almost entirely wrong.

There are three pillars of combat that will affect difficulty in a combat encounter and none of them are percentile adjustments or mathematical algorithms. 

These are: Damage, Duration, and Disruption 

(watch this video, it is great and will explain things rather well.)

Damage is raw HP reduction and threat. High damage is near insta-lethal one-hits, whereas low is not much, maybe even none at all.

Duration is not how long a fight takes, but how much you control how long it takes. High duration is an explicit control over when an encounter can end, such as an enemy being invincible until an enchantment is dispelled, whereas low is just letting things happen as they do without any control, such as letting a boss get one-shotted by a lucky crit.

Disruption is how difficult it is to achieve success. High disruption could be magical storms blinding everyone unless they make a high saving throw, whereas low Disruption is a breezeless football field in the middle of Idaho on a Wednesday afternoon in August.

If you want to make an encounter with lower-level monsters more dangerous, then experiment with increasing any of these three things, even all three.

eg;

Three goblins and a hobgoblin are not much of a threat to a higher level party. Perhaps more of an annoyance, like mosquitoes or party balloons - swat ‘em or kick ‘em and, nine times out of ten, they’ll go away.

However, let’s go through each pillar and crank things up a notch.

Damage: Imagine if the goblins had gotten their hands on some powerful, uncontrollable wands and were torching a village with them. Fireballs, Lightning Bolts, Acid Arrows - the party may want to treat these pests with some respect and approach a little smarter.

Duration: Could it be that the goblins are life-linked in some absurd, shamanistic ritual to the hobgoblin, meaning that he can only be wounded once all of the goblins are dead?

Disruption: Perhaps the goblins have released a poisonous gas through the area that can paralyze everyone except goblinoids? Players have to skirt about these small clouds of paralysis that float about the battlefield, and if anyone gets caught in them, the goblins all pounce at once and go for the kill.

I’d recommend experimenting with ideas, and you can easily get weaker monsters up to higher-play level of difficulty. Just be wary of making things too tough. Also, it never hurts to give a boss-monster a decent amount of HP aswell as a little higher AC and some attack bonuses if you want them to fare a little better.

Remember though, the objective is to make your players think, because then they are acting, and then they are playing and are having fun. That is the one, true objective for being a DM.

Enjoy

Pixie x

Building Character - Autonomy and Backstory

By far the worst thing that a character can do in a story, is nothing.

Whether they are kind or merciless,  devout or heretical, loyal or aloof, to act is to be. If a character faces great adversity, they cannot expect to do nothing, be polite, and never face consequences, yet for them to remain important. Masterminds act. Villains act. Even cowards act. Devices, however, obey despite everything. A character is born when they make a choice that changes their life, forever.

A harsh lesson I learned rather recently was one of structure. It, for me, defined the concept of character and their story in everything.

A character is born when it first appears, and dies once its story ends.

Now, they may still be alive, and they often are, but their character ceases to be when they no longer need to do anything, and so, the character dies and leaves the name behind. Once the villain is defeated, the world saved, and normality is reestablished, then the story ends, and with it, the character. They become the world they fought so hard to save and fade into obscurity.

Essentially, the lesson serves to reign in writers who rely on the merits of a backstory. Your character may have once saved his family’s life, or won this grand tournament, or proven herself, time and time again. But, if none of this is in the story, then it doesn’t mean anything.

You are telling the story to us, correct? So, why should we care about something that didn’t happen within it? Why aren’t you telling us that story? Why is this one more important?

You could bring any character you want and drop them onto us and talk about their powers and strengths and intelligences, but you will always fail to impress because it wouldn’t be a story.

For example, say that you inform me that your character can lift a fully-grown cow above their head. It may seem impressive, but, when compared to any superhero setting, it pales in comparison to what they can achieve. There is no challenge or tension in a backstory, and if you make a character and expect their past, witnessed endeavours to garner any compassion from your audience, then you may as well have presented them some furniture with the same name.

If you want your character to belong in the story, to be challenged and experience struggle and suffering that will change them and make them choose, all you have to do is be prepared to have them act. The moment they stand against adversity and do something about it, brave or not, is when they first begin to exist. When they choose to follow an order; choose to defy the law; choose to protect the innocent; choose to accept the bribe; choose to change something and fight for that future.

If you write a backstory, then have it so that it influences the choices to come rather than act as a ‘get out of jail free’ card to somehow justify indecision and apathy. Craft and design the events that came before so that they do not overshadow the events to come, but serve to magnify their impact. Play with broad, heavy concepts like family, nationality, prejudice, loss, wealth, guilt. Allow these things to shape and direct the character rather than conclude them and shut the book on their tale because it is easier upon the ego if everything went exactly as planned.

Let things go wrong for your character. Allow them to fail, and learn, and suffer, and grow, and choose how they do so.

But if you are happy with your character being some nameless, hopeless, and unambitious nothing, then finish their story before it happens and watch them become just another colourful piece of scenery.

*Big ol’ eBook Update Below*

On Friday the 15th of December, this year, I will be releasing a single chapter eBook of a long-term project I have been working on for a while now on ISSUU.com for free. It is an ahistorical, fantasy novel called ‘Crow Eater’ set in an alternative history colonial America, 200 years after Christopher Columbus had failed his voyage across the Atlantic. The story focuses upon individuals fighting for their lives against the wilderness, and the weird world within.

     “Not much is sacred anymore, this far from home on our oversea land of opportunity. Lisbon wails for us, mourning our departure, but I assure you, my homeland kin, that this is the greatest discovery of the millennia. The mere sighting of this continent was as if the skin of the world had been broken open, exposing fresh, red meat to all us vermin breeding on the outside. The race for the richest portions of this banquet pulled all of mankind out and over the seas. Turkey, France. Britain, my dearest Portugal; often a stream was all that separated one colonist’s territory from another, a simple step between a thousand different people and their thousand years of differences.”

                                                                                   ...   and so the story begins.

Enjoy

Pixie x

Also ...

eBook will be released later today on ISSUU.com

Do you like fantasy, and big, magical birds? Then it might just interest you enough to check out my eBook; Crow Eater.

Sunday Respite - Unconventional and Magical Weapons for an Unconventional and Magical World

A warrior is a warrior, no matter for what weapon they work with.

Warriors of steel, of blades, of words, of law, of faith, of bow and string, judgement and patience, shield and hammer - all fulfill their duties within the ranks. For when time peace comes to pass and power swells, war will come. When it does, you will not grow petty over the fashion of the equipment brought to bare against the onslaught. You will hide and pray that whatever warriors there are, will fight well and true to protect all that is good in your world.

That said, some people just can’t be normal and have to put together their own strange contraptions to spill blood and crush bone. These warriors are a fearsome creed, for their unpredictability squanders the tacticians and sends untamed forces into disarray. Often, a successful first attack will be all it takes to win a war, and what better element to success than that of surprise?

So, go forth, my wild lovelies, and take whatever scatter-brained scatter-shot or brain-dead brain-beater you can get your hands on. It may not work, and it certainly won’t be perfect, but on that rare occasion that it does, kingdoms will fall.

Cashier’s Penny-Slot Rifle

To the majority of sane people, this mechanism is surely nothing more than a cube of wood with a crooked tube of tin protruding from its front. The box has a circular hole cut into its top and a crutch-like stock worked into the frame. Into the hole are fed stacks of coins, whereupon they are chewed up by some growling mechanism of gears and pistons. Once a small trigger on the stock is squeezed, the weapon launches forth a wicked barrage of twisted coins and silver shrapnel to chew through flesh and bite into bone. The weapon barks like a bag full of lead cans when it fires and rattles like one too. The motion of it all could easily dislocate a shoulder. Luckily, its the unfortunate buggar on the receiving end that has the more costly interaction of the evening, regardless for the currency dispensed.

Never-Ending Arrow

Only one of the Never-Ending Arrows remains unnotched and undrawn, safely tucked within glass casing, pillowed by lavender linen, hidden beneath lock and key. This is for good reason. Once upon a day gone past, there were dozens of these nefarious little devils, brought to being by some astrologically-influenced fletcher-turned-madman, caught under a pale star’s shine. The Never-Ending Arrow, once fired, cannot be stopped. It cuts through the world like a darting eel would knife through water. Brick, stone, flesh, wood, sea, whatever; there are no exceptions. The saving grace is that, depending upon the geological geometry of your home world, it will either shoot off into space, detaching from the earth’s curvature and becoming the horizon’s problem, or it will find the edge of the great, flat plain, and wire off into the abyss to cause mayhem thereon.

The Great, Man-Eating Cog-Hammer

A heavilly runed warhammer head purrs with a coursing battery kept somewhere within, smoke pluming out of the exhaust on the cap. The haft upon which it is beset carries the humming mechanism like a bull astride a pole-vault, barely sticking upright and swaying with a troubling violence. Set into a cavity upon the business end of the warhammer-head’s face are a pair of broad, toothy gears. They roll into eachother; a hungry, growling maw of iron and coal. When the warhammer is brought to bear upon the world around, the gears are set off to play. They chew into their contact point, pulling skin, steel, silk, and sanity up and away into the rolling, industrial basilisk, ripping and tearing with a dreadfully messy and blunt attrition, spitting the refuse out of a chute at the rear.

Carrion Crow’s Screaming Shield

Beaming brass, shaped into that of a snake’s open mouth - fangs, forked-tongue, and all. Strong, stoic, and utterly perfect in its manufacture: the shield is enough to cover a crouched man from top to toe. This, however, seems to not be enough to entertain the emblazoned, viperous visage it houses. The snake spins upon the shield face as if stuck within an open barrel, cast downhill. Upon command (a word known only to the possessor), the snake’s head will telescopically lunge forward, grasp at a target, snap with toxic teeth, and hoist the victim back with the force of an elephant’s charge, for more personal interactions.

Sword?

Sword? refuses to be named as anything else. Sword? cannot be renamed. Any attempt to re-identify the weapon results in the wordsmith, sculptor, poet, or playwright fumbling at her literature. She turns to the item’s owner, winced expression wearing heavy upon her face, and shrugs, surrendering to call the thing ‘Sword?’ just as all the others did before. This item is a sword, surprisingly. It has a twisted grip of wound leather strips, red over blue, a clean, white blade of a grassleaf’s curvature, and the trappings and tribulations of a well-decorated weapon. However, Sword? is notoriously uncooperative with new users. When first held, and for weeks after - even months and beyond - Sword? will droop in the hand as if it had died. It will fall loose and limp like a severed limb, refusing to turn turgid despite all interactions, pleas, and promises offered. Once Sword? trusts its new friend, it will begin to twist and turn under their command, worming as a dancer’s fabric would. The sword can fit as keys would into locks, activate latches through doorframe-cracks, and even slither down into their throat and return, unbloodied. It is supremely agile. The sword can grow deeply friendly and personal with their new friend, and may go on to follow their command without delay, forever until death.

Enjoy 

Pixie x

What’s your favorite role playing system.(I’m making a blog that’ll mainly be pregenerated characters so I wanna find what systems big successful blogs like)

Good question. A simple Question, but a good question.

Well, firstly, I hope you have good fortunes with your blog. It’s a good creative outlet nowadays. We need more of them.

My favourite RPG system was always Pathfinder. Always, ever since 2012 when I first got it. I adore the classes, the mechanics, the books, and the visceral, almost geometric fantasy artwork of Wayne Reynolds.

However, I must admit that over recent years, my tastes have explored a few other things within the tabletop RPG circuit.

I now realise, in the infinite wisdom of a something-year-old person, that there is no better setting for a game than Shadowrun 5e. The books are gorgeous to read through, with bustling, intense chapters almost entirely devoted to lore and customisation. Combat is slow and Deckers are always a pain for game-flow, but I can forgive its flaws for what its done for me and my character designs. However, this is all from a player’s perspective, (which is uber rare for me) so, you know, maybe don’t trust everything that I say. I am just a blog after all. A nice blog, but opinions are opinions.

But, I can always speak highly of any edition of D&D (particularly AD&D, 5th, and even bits of 4th), as well as the utter ludicrous nature of Savage Worlds - quick paced, violent, great for a narrative-combat mix (more to come on that later, hint-hint.)

Regardless, I hope this has helped shed some insight things.

Enjoy

Pixie x

Monday Night Dungeon Mastering - The Surrender Fallacy

Writers can find themselves itching with an idea. This singular concept of story and narrative sits sluggishly on their minds and teases them with a feather between the shoulder blades. The writer sees their idea as a defining moment of ultimate action that must be realised to be itched. It is where the story comes to climax and the reader is struck in their seat with the awe of it. It is so pure and divinely emotional that it rattles the nerves to even contemplate it, but, if only the writer could wrangle their story into getting there.

This obsession over one moment trivialises the story as it ducks and weaves through itself. The world and characters begin bending and straining to the point of collapse to somehow allow this one moment to take centre stage. It's the ego talking. We believe our own hype, and consequences be damned. Resultantly, the narrative suffers to propagate this flawed ideal.

This issue is prevalent enough within an environment where the writer controls all input. In a novel or script the writer has sole authority over characters and their agency. The world buckles and bends to their command and reshapes as they see fit. Now, imagine a narrative setting where you,as the writer, don't control the characters ...

... not even close.

Spoilers: you don't have to. The answer is being a Dungeon Master. Big surprise.

As a Dungeon Master (and trust me, I sympathise) you will have these grandiose concepts for story and player character narrative. You want the game to be exciting. You want your players to have fun. But ... 

but.

You kinda, maybe, also might want to show off a little. Just once or twice. Y'know, put your best foot forward and give yourself something to be proud of once the session ends. You can't let them have all the fun. Maybe its your world, or an NPC or villain you are particularly proud of. So you write that in, and you build the scene in your head. You will beautifully narrate the importance of the heroes' quest, terrify them with the danger of your irredeemable - yet morally complex - villain, and show the best of the world you have poured countless hours over in your study. You have perfected every encounter, named every tavern and drink, statted every character down to the skill points and pettiest of equipment, and you are ready to blow your player's minds.

BUT THEY WON'T

SIT

STILL.

The illusionist rogue kicks away from his seat and hurries to harass your chieftain-warlord of grotesque, inhuman rage. The barbarian flips her table and rushes your undercover, double-agent assassin with a maul without an inkling of provocation. The wizard casts a counter-spell on your sorcerer as he tries to dramatically teleport away, leaving him stuck in a sad, little cloud of expended, magical smog. The bard just WON'T STOP SEDUCING THINGS. 

So you snap.

You take your player characters, sit them down, tie them up, and force them to listen. For once. You become one of those nightmarish preschool teacher who duct tapes his students to their chairs.

You set your players up for defeat, stacking the odds against them to such an insane degree that they simply have no other choice but to surrender, or maybe you don't even give them the chance to surrender and kidnap them as they sleep. Every action is batted down, every interruption silenced. You take a breath, and begin to tell your story in peace to your captives.

Do not do this. Please. It is unhealthy and can damage trust.

If you want a passive and silent audience, write a book. This just has the players feeling as if the DM has reached across the table and stolen their character sheet so she can play by themselves.

It manifests in many ways. Overbearing cut-scenes, NPC plot-armour, DM controlled Party Members, save-or-die mechanics, vetoed player actions, forced mulligans or redo’s. (Note how these are different from narrative or gameplay effects, like simply being taken prisoner, or getting knocked unconscious / paralysed in combat . The Surrender Fallacy is when the DM refuses player agency and does what he wants without allowing their input)

These are your players - your friends: people who have put aside their time and work to come to your game to play and have fun, not sit by and watch.

For one, they will hate it. They may behave like they accept it at the time, but their resentment will be immediate and sorely bitter. This is not a dynamic you want between your players and your game. If they have no control over their characters or their actions, then they will stop playing and do something else: play with their phones, talk about other things aside from the game. They will not be enjoying their time, no matter how happy you are, and eventually may just choose to not turn up.

To avoid this deathly circumstance you must do one, painful thing: you have to let go of your pride.

Your story will not be perfect - especially with players at the helm of it; it will be disastrous, chaotic, and downright sinister or even unheroic at times. But it will be their story. They will be in control of themselves. They will be acting. they will be playing, and they will be having fun in your world.

Learn to react to their shenanigans rather than demand something of them. Be happy with taking it slow, and do not get antsy when they are not chasing the plot about at breakneck pace. Don't abandon narrative altogether; continue to keep things tense and the consequences real, but understand that a memorable story is always based off of character choice, rather than having none -  understanding that taking one road of a branching path makes their character unique with the knowledge that noone else would have done that same thing.

Respect your players and their agency, and they shall respect you, and your game.

And, most importantly,

Enjoy

Pixie x