Because my high school group cycled GMs session to session, we usually had several people comfortable with costing items and with running NPCs; so multiple characters could be run simultaneously through minor pre-game activities, like shopping; and it was our custom that when a PC went into a shop, they could ask the shopkeep if they had anything interesting, and whoever was running the NPC would try to come up with something new.
I got two books from a discount bin - As Seen On TV by Lou Harry & Sam Stall (2002), and 283 Useful Ideas from Japan by Leonard Koren (1988) - and if I don't use them for random town stuff I'll never use them for anything.
Showing posts with label ye olden days. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ye olden days. Show all posts
Thursday, August 22, 2019
Thursday, June 14, 2018
Varanus' Gun, the Riddick and the Unicorn, and Gobbo Feet
[Kind of a grab-bag this week. Hopefully next week will be back to more organized things.]
Varanus' Gun
When you made a character in my old high school play group, instead of purchasing starting gear, you got a witness to roll for each item you might have. Better rolls meant better items, and the luckiest I know was a kobold named Varanus who started with a one-in-two-million rifle.
It had every physical and magical enhancement listed in our price guide, plus two more:
The Poachers
Pretty standard heist quest, written quickly. The party wanted to acquire a certain rare animal from a group of professional monster hunters and couldn't buy it. (This is where the kid with the holy sword was hanging out.) Their collection included:
Gobbo Feet
Originally in my high school group, players would only play goblin characters as a joke. Other monstrous races - ogres, trolls and lizardmen - were suboptimal but they had legitimate strengths and could generally intimidate peasants into treating them the same as other adventurers. Eventually, a later iteration of the group added special abilities to all the playable races. Goblins became a more normal choice and it became increasingly weird to me that they were getting hassled less than our ogres and trolls.
Around then I read chapter 211 of Berserk, which has a kelpie drenching a town in rain.
So I decided to make a town which hates goblins, put it in the party's path, and surround it in weeks of ceaseless rain. Now, one of the traits our goblins got was they could ignite small fires by dancing; so when the party met some of the townsfolk some hours outside of town, the townsfolk didn't pull out flint and tinder to light a fire; they pulled out a pair of severed baby goblin feet, hanging on strings like baby booties, and jerked them around to make them "dance."
I didn't want to actually spend the whole quest on the one goblin PC, though. So when these two townsfolk saw the goblin PC, they remembered the "gobbo horse" in the middle of town, and they jumped to the conclusion that if a goblin bites you, you become one.
Varanus' Gun
When you made a character in my old high school play group, instead of purchasing starting gear, you got a witness to roll for each item you might have. Better rolls meant better items, and the luckiest I know was a kobold named Varanus who started with a one-in-two-million rifle.
It had every physical and magical enhancement listed in our price guide, plus two more:
- If it was within 10 yards, the owner could summon it irresistibly to his hands (something akin to dimension door). Fonzying at an opponent's head was a great way to switch from parley to combat.
- A magic string was tied to its grip, with a matching string tied to Varanus' gold pouch; if someone tried to take whatever the second string was tied to, they would be attacked by whatever weapon the first string was tied to.
The Poachers
Pretty standard heist quest, written quickly. The party wanted to acquire a certain rare animal from a group of professional monster hunters and couldn't buy it. (This is where the kid with the holy sword was hanging out.) Their collection included:
- Roc Chicks: horse-sized fledglings used as mounts by the poachers. I described them as Chokobos and played them like velociraptors.
- A Beholder: used for wrangling the other captives, and which might've had a lobotomy scar? It was in a complex harness with reins which allowed one of the poachers to direct its movements and eyes. The players were mostly unfamiliar with D&D so this was weird and exotic.
- A "Unicorn": the poachers said this was a unicorn, but when I described it to the players, I used the description of a rhinoceros. A PC did end up buying it, and commissioned a war chariot (complete with swords sticking out from the wheel axles) for it to pull.
- The Riddick: among the cages containing giant rats and other dangerous beasts was one containing a muscular human in dark goggles. "Me? I'm just passing through." (I'd shotgunned Pitch Black and Chronicles of Riddick the night before, so I could do passable dialogue.) The players sprung him but he wasn't as much of a team player as they'd hoped.
- A Few Gremlins: trained for specific tasks, like fishing a potion out of your pack and feeding it to you during combat. Might also have played a collapsible snare drum and high hat.
Gobbo Feet
Originally in my high school group, players would only play goblin characters as a joke. Other monstrous races - ogres, trolls and lizardmen - were suboptimal but they had legitimate strengths and could generally intimidate peasants into treating them the same as other adventurers. Eventually, a later iteration of the group added special abilities to all the playable races. Goblins became a more normal choice and it became increasingly weird to me that they were getting hassled less than our ogres and trolls.
Around then I read chapter 211 of Berserk, which has a kelpie drenching a town in rain.
So I decided to make a town which hates goblins, put it in the party's path, and surround it in weeks of ceaseless rain. Now, one of the traits our goblins got was they could ignite small fires by dancing; so when the party met some of the townsfolk some hours outside of town, the townsfolk didn't pull out flint and tinder to light a fire; they pulled out a pair of severed baby goblin feet, hanging on strings like baby booties, and jerked them around to make them "dance."
I didn't want to actually spend the whole quest on the one goblin PC, though. So when these two townsfolk saw the goblin PC, they remembered the "gobbo horse" in the middle of town, and they jumped to the conclusion that if a goblin bites you, you become one.
Thursday, May 24, 2018
Swords of Truth
[Nothing I want to put together for BattleTech or D&D can be put together quickly. So instead, here's some D&D-ish stuff from my old high school group.]
The main thing about Paladins in our old high school homebrew was their holy swords. Small damage buff (huge buff against unholy creatures), glowed in the presence of unholy creatures, and injured the wielder anytime the wielder lied, cheated, disobeyed orders, desecrated the dead, or fought dishonorably. If you were especially cruel (and tough enough to survive the sword's punitive zap when you reclaimed it), you could impale an enemy, then heal the wound around the sword so they'd get zapped if they lied under questioning.
Our most memorable NPC paladin was a puzzle. The party was under his command, and we kept getting more and more indirect and circumstantial evidence that he was treasonous and breaking the paladin code, but we could never catch him red-handed. His holy sword was genuine and I don't know if we ever learned how he avoided offending it - maybe he just took the damage and was good at hiding it.
The next most memorable such NPC wasn't a paladin, it was a merc brat whose holy longsword was too big for him and who - despite obviously getting injured every time he lied - still attempted all the mischief and bravado you'd expect from an adolescent hanging around with mercs.
Translating these swords into Pathfinder (for my evil rat), the GM wanted to make the punitive zaps do bleed damage, but that doesn't seem sound to me. (Not that I have the best grasp of Pathfinder/D&D balance.)
It never came up in play, but I intended my rat's sword to have lore ties to the oracular statue in my city quest. I envisioned the big oracle sword as a "purer" version - instead of relying on the bearer's perception of truth, the oracle judged objective truth. It could be used in civil and criminal trials, and the wealthy could pay beggars to test other claims. The players proposed testing the oracle with a paradox; I figured that would turn them undead instead of killing them. The players didn't find that as logical as I do, but whatever - oracles aren't meant to be fair or straightforward.
The main thing about Paladins in our old high school homebrew was their holy swords. Small damage buff (huge buff against unholy creatures), glowed in the presence of unholy creatures, and injured the wielder anytime the wielder lied, cheated, disobeyed orders, desecrated the dead, or fought dishonorably. If you were especially cruel (and tough enough to survive the sword's punitive zap when you reclaimed it), you could impale an enemy, then heal the wound around the sword so they'd get zapped if they lied under questioning.
Our most memorable NPC paladin was a puzzle. The party was under his command, and we kept getting more and more indirect and circumstantial evidence that he was treasonous and breaking the paladin code, but we could never catch him red-handed. His holy sword was genuine and I don't know if we ever learned how he avoided offending it - maybe he just took the damage and was good at hiding it.
The next most memorable such NPC wasn't a paladin, it was a merc brat whose holy longsword was too big for him and who - despite obviously getting injured every time he lied - still attempted all the mischief and bravado you'd expect from an adolescent hanging around with mercs.
Translating these swords into Pathfinder (for my evil rat), the GM wanted to make the punitive zaps do bleed damage, but that doesn't seem sound to me. (Not that I have the best grasp of Pathfinder/D&D balance.)
It never came up in play, but I intended my rat's sword to have lore ties to the oracular statue in my city quest. I envisioned the big oracle sword as a "purer" version - instead of relying on the bearer's perception of truth, the oracle judged objective truth. It could be used in civil and criminal trials, and the wealthy could pay beggars to test other claims. The players proposed testing the oracle with a paradox; I figured that would turn them undead instead of killing them. The players didn't find that as logical as I do, but whatever - oracles aren't meant to be fair or straightforward.
Saturday, March 31, 2018
My Favorite Monster
I first used these (way back in high school) to pop up from under loose floor tiles. Just a small ambush to make the party wary. Then, in the middle of a big room with a high ceiling, the PC ogre who'd been bringing up the rear felt his helmet lift off his head. He turned around. Saw nothing. The rest of the party saw two of these things daisy-chained from the ceiling, holding his helmet, while a third clung to the ogre's back. (And shortly after, to the ogre's face).
The second time I used these (a few years later), the party was looking for lost children to rescue. They'd heard movement or indistinct voices a couple times, and a couple other times they'd opened silent wardrobes or drawers only to have these critters jump out at them. Eventually, the party got strung out down a hallway: a decoy fight at one end, an ambush through an open doorway in the middle, and two kid-sized lumps hiding in a pile of laundry at the other end. One PC defends the laundry pile; he hears voices from it. "Yeah, what is it, kid?" he asks over his shoulder. The response is indistinct, so he glances back, and it isn't kids it's two of these critters with laundry on their heads mimicking kid-sounds with their mandibles.
It worked so well these first two times that I can't resist trying again whenever enough new players cycle in. It's how the the larval tank beetles in my second Pathfinder run were supposed to play.
I think next time, I'll have the players trying to meet or find an NPC, but everybody in the NPC's location has evacuated to certain well-known mines or tunnels. The PCs come alongside a deep shaft, where a small figure in a (blood stained) cloak clings desperately to a chain hanging out of the party's reach, with a heavy metal elevator or slab or something sitting against one of the other walls, too high to be useful. If (when) a PC jumps or falls onto the free hanging chains, weights will shift; the heavy metal will rise, unsealing a tunnel and freeing the swarm of critters therein; and the cloaked figure - another of the critters - will attack the PC as their chains sink into darkness.
Shriekipedes, Centipede Mimics or Jack in the Box Bugs
Never had a good name for these critters.
For D&D5e, I think I'd start with "Giant Spider" as a template, make
CON 8, HP 18, AC 15, double its damage when it attacks with surprise, ignore all the web abilities, and bump the poison save high
enough to scare the party tough guy.
Lurking: these things are three to seven feet long, can fit through any hole a typical dog can, and tend to trap themselves in chests and cupboards; they're great at pulling lids or doors shut but crap at pushing them open again. They're more likely to chew or dig their way out through a back corner.
Face Grabbing: PCs hate having stuff latched onto their faces, so that's what these things go for. If the attack succeeds, the PC is likely blind and/or suffocating; if the attack is stopped by a helmet, there's a good chance the helmet will be pulled off; if the attack misses, the bug might latch onto a nearby wall or something by accident.
Backwards and Forwards: the head and the tail are difficult to tell apart, and they're both good at grabbing stuff. When one side latches onto something big (like a wall or a medium size creature), the other end gets advantage on strength checks. The bug can't voluntarily let go of something without making a DC 10 INT check.
Shrieking, 3x per long rest to: cast Counterspell or Dispel (with a +3 ability modifier), combo with another bug's bite attack to count as a magic weapon with the sonic damage type, add d8 Bardic Inspiration on the next bug action against a chosen target, inflict d8 Bardic Disinspiration on the target's current action... other sonic effects aren't out of the question.
I don't know what the "challenge rating" for these would be. Low, I imagine; I think I tend to fall back on them where other people would be falling back on basic skeletons or zombies.
PS: Happy, hoppy Easter Eve?
The second time I used these (a few years later), the party was looking for lost children to rescue. They'd heard movement or indistinct voices a couple times, and a couple other times they'd opened silent wardrobes or drawers only to have these critters jump out at them. Eventually, the party got strung out down a hallway: a decoy fight at one end, an ambush through an open doorway in the middle, and two kid-sized lumps hiding in a pile of laundry at the other end. One PC defends the laundry pile; he hears voices from it. "Yeah, what is it, kid?" he asks over his shoulder. The response is indistinct, so he glances back, and it isn't kids it's two of these critters with laundry on their heads mimicking kid-sounds with their mandibles.
It worked so well these first two times that I can't resist trying again whenever enough new players cycle in. It's how the the larval tank beetles in my second Pathfinder run were supposed to play.
I think next time, I'll have the players trying to meet or find an NPC, but everybody in the NPC's location has evacuated to certain well-known mines or tunnels. The PCs come alongside a deep shaft, where a small figure in a (blood stained) cloak clings desperately to a chain hanging out of the party's reach, with a heavy metal elevator or slab or something sitting against one of the other walls, too high to be useful. If (when) a PC jumps or falls onto the free hanging chains, weights will shift; the heavy metal will rise, unsealing a tunnel and freeing the swarm of critters therein; and the cloaked figure - another of the critters - will attack the PC as their chains sink into darkness.
Shriekipedes, Centipede Mimics or Jack in the Box Bugs
Never had a good name for these critters.
For D&D5e, I think I'd start with "Giant Spider" as a template,
[Easter Edit: CON 6, HP 12, AC 17? In our homebrew they were agile and strong-shelled, but couldn't survive more than one or two typical hits. Not sure how to translate that to 5e. /Edit]
Lurking: these things are three to seven feet long, can fit through any hole a typical dog can, and tend to trap themselves in chests and cupboards; they're great at pulling lids or doors shut but crap at pushing them open again. They're more likely to chew or dig their way out through a back corner.
Face Grabbing: PCs hate having stuff latched onto their faces, so that's what these things go for. If the attack succeeds, the PC is likely blind and/or suffocating; if the attack is stopped by a helmet, there's a good chance the helmet will be pulled off; if the attack misses, the bug might latch onto a nearby wall or something by accident.
Backwards and Forwards: the head and the tail are difficult to tell apart, and they're both good at grabbing stuff. When one side latches onto something big (like a wall or a medium size creature), the other end gets advantage on strength checks. The bug can't voluntarily let go of something without making a DC 10 INT check.
Shrieking, 3x per long rest to: cast Counterspell or Dispel (with a +3 ability modifier), combo with another bug's bite attack to count as a magic weapon with the sonic damage type, add d8 Bardic Inspiration on the next bug action against a chosen target, inflict d8 Bardic Disinspiration on the target's current action... other sonic effects aren't out of the question.
I don't know what the "challenge rating" for these would be. Low, I imagine; I think I tend to fall back on them where other people would be falling back on basic skeletons or zombies.
[Easter Edit: I forgot! Because our high school group had so many mages, these were highly resistant to magic. For 5e, I'd give them advantage on spell saves, and if they get 20 or more on the save or counterspell roll, the spell reflects back on the caster.
...their "challenge rating" might be higher than I think.
I like how jump-scare monsters can make the players paranoid. I try to prime them before the quest to consider half-heard noises nonthreatening, and by the end have them paranoid enough for friendly fire against already injured NPCs doing their best to hide from the monsters. I sometimes also try to deescalate their paranoia afterwards, but rotating GMs from week to week makes that less of a factor. /Edit]
PS: Happy, hoppy Easter Eve?
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