Tuesday 20 February 2018

Dungeoneering: Making a Memorable Villain

Originally published in issue 9 of 'The Scene Unseen' newsletter.

In my two-year Pathfinder campaign I made a lot of mistakes, but also had some unexpected successes.

The runaway success in my campaign was the character who ended up being the main villain, Lucretia. In the Adventure Path I was following, she was only a minor stumbling block on the way to bigger and better baddies, but she caught the attention of the party like nobody else had. Something about her grabbed their attention. What exactly was it? She managed to escape them during their first battle, but she was not the first villain to do that. There was an aboleth (a giant psychic fish monster) who escaped them on multiple occasions, but the level of animosity the players had towards him was far less than against Lucretia.

There was a point, earlier than their first meeting with Lucretia, in which I realised I had given the players too much treasure. A large part of that was to do with them coming up with a plan to sell a house in Sea Gate, the deed to which they had found. In a locked chest. After killing the owners. Who were, to be fair, rather evil. The AP didn't actually account for this possibility, and in hindsight, instead of letting them successfully sell it for a lot of gold, I should have had the city guard show up and chastise them for trying to con the good people of Sea Gate, and have them narrowly escape some prison time.

At any rate, things had gotten to the point that if villains were going to survive more than a single round against my player, they had to be a much higher level than them. But that put their damage output to dangerous levels. Whichever side got off a full attack first was going to straight up kill the other side. Which is not a great point to be at. So I had to somehow eliminate my player's most valuable items, to bring them back into line with where they should be. Someone suggested making them fight rust monsters, but I thought they were a bit too random, I wouldn't have much control over which items they destroyed.

Enter Lucretia. What if she had been plotting this whole time, planting cursed items in various places, including on her underlings that they had already killed, so that by the time she had to fight them, she could cause chaos by messing with the groups items? She was my fix for a trap that new GMs fall into, that of giving the players all the stuff they want. (At least, I hope it's not just me.)

The group fought Lucretia in a fort that had been taken over by giants. Despite her ambushing them just after they killed the leader of the giants, they still almost killed her. The only reason she survived was due to her messing with their stuff. The paladin's favourite weapon was a light-infused greathammer that dazzled anything it struck. Now it flared with light everytime he used it, temporarily blinding him and causing him to miss. The goblin's dexterity-boosting shirt (in my defense this was an actual item from the campaign, whoever thought this was balanced should be shot) entangled him, and had to be ripped in two for him to escape. Thr cleric's trident dealt extra damage...by drawing on the cleric's life force, injuring him every time he used it, not good for a squishy merfolk. And the sorcerer's fear-protecting ring started amplifying his fears instead of removing them. Only the cavalier escaped unscathed, mostly because he was a miser that refused to spend his gold on anything except mithral armour and weapons.

Then she realised she had 2 hit points left, summoned a wall of water, and ran away.

Lucretia had escaped and outwitted the group (barely) in their first major battle, which was bad enough, but she also permanently harmed and traumatised them by taking away their stuff. It's amazing how players can get attached to imaginary stuff. Strangely, though, the cavlier was just as bent on finding her and eliminating her, despite her not doing anything to him directly, and over the course of the campaign, reminded the rest of the group that they still had to deal with her. When I asked him why he was so keen on stopping her, he replied that it was due to her sister dropping a cathedral bell on him earlier in the campaign - despite the fact that Lucrecia had nothing to do with it.

So what is the point of all this? If you want your players to care about a villain, you have to make them somehow invested in bringing her (or him) down. Having them permanently harm the characters in some way worked for my group, but. But just as much, your players need to buy into the narrative (even if thier thinking is a little flawed, as in the case of the cavalier). You can have the best villain, but for some reason your players don't care. If this is the case, you may have to let go of your villain, despite how much you like them, and look to see if there is another enemy that is better suited to the group.

Tuesday 13 February 2018

Dungeoneering: What are the Drow?

This is an updated version of an article originally published in issue 8 of 'The Scene Unseen' newsletter.

When Gary Gygax was developing the Dungeons & Dragons game in the 1970s, he wanted a powerful, distinctive race to be the rulers of the Underdark, a vast network of caverns deep below the surface of the world of Faerun, d&D's primary setting. He got the concept of dark elves from the Prose Edda, a work of norse literature written by Snorri Sturluson. The word drow however, comes from Shetland folklore, used for a used for a dwarf-like creature, and is related the the word trow, usually used for creatures we call trolls. This shows that in folklore a lot of these creatures are interchangeable. Indeed, the Edda makes no distinction between dark elves and what we would nowadays call dwarves. (It is hard for us to imagine such things in an age where fantasy is so heavily influenced by the works of Tolkien, in which dwarves and elves are races with vast differences between them.)

Gygax's drow are despicably evil elves, worshippers of Lolth, the demonic spider goddess. Their society is matriarchal, lead by the female priestesses of Lolth and the matrons of the great houses. They have dark purple skin and white hair. They are incredibly powerful, nearly all of them have spellcasting capability. They rule the underdark with an iron fist, enslaving most of the other races, and spend a lot of time plotting against other houses in an attempt to gain more political power.

Despite this, the most famous drow, Drizzt Do'Urden, was a kind-hearted ranger who had been exiled from the drow capital due to his beliefs. Drizzt's novels became so popular that everyone and their dog wanted to play as a good-aligned drow ranger, leading to the notion that Faerun must be filled with hundreds of good-aligned drow rebels, rather undermining the whole evil elven society thing. The other problem was that drow were not created to be used by players, and were inherently overpowered compared to other characters.

Drizzt's popularity has made drow a staple feature of D&D and most other fantasy worlds, though many give them other names.

The Warhammer Fantasy game, which came out in 1983 also had an army of evil elves. They were originally called the night elves, but later renamed dark elves. Their darkness was entirely in demenour, as they looked identical to the high-elves, with the same pale skin. Their clothing was darker, and their armour was adorned with spikes. They were the followers of the exiled elven prince Malekith, a rather nasty chap, and lived in the equivalent of North America – which seems like a strange choice, until you remember that Warhammer is made by a British company. Oddly, Marvel Comics has a dark elf named Malekith too, who is an enemy of the superhero Thor, and the two Malekiths seem to have been created completely independently.

In 2002, Warcraft III: Reign of Chaos came out, and gleefully trampled all over traditional RPG tropes. After the orcs fled across the sea to new lands in order to escape persecution, they began building settlements, only to be attacked by a civilisation of mostly female purple-skinned elves. These night elves launched a campaign of guerilla warfare, appearing out of nowhere to slay orcs with arrows and throwing stars before melting back into the shadows. It was eventually revealed that these elves were not evil, and were merely trying to stop the orcs from cutting down the forest which was actually their home. They were nocturnal moon-worshippers, whose religion actually had a lot in common with the 'light' worshipped amongst humans. Inverting the normal stories even more, the night elves tuned out to be the original elves - the light-skinned high elf allies of the humans were a younger offshoot, descended from night elves exiled for practicing banned arcane magic. Of all the games featuring dark elves, Warcraft seems to be the only one where the vast majority of dark elves are inherently good.

In 2009, the Pathfinder RPG was launched, Based on the 3rd edition of Dungeons & Dragons, it's drow are nearly identical to D&Ds, the only difference being the identity of the god they follow. Though they initially came into existence after a group of elves pledged their allegiance to the evil god Asmodeus, any elf that is evil enough will spontaneously turn into a drow. Conversely, a good drow will spontaneously transform into an elf. Though this does seem a bit odd, it means that there are no good drow in Pathfinder, thus maintaining their identity as a culture of evil creatures.

A couple of years ago, Warhammer Fantasy released a series of books named 'The End Times', in which it was revealed that Malekith was actually the true heir to the Phoenix Throne of the high elves. The books even gave him a partial redemption arc on his was to reclaiming said throne – though this mostly involved him deciding to not instantly murder anyone who disagreed with him, because that might upset some of his newfound allies. Malekith was one of the few characters to survive the End Times, becoming the god of Shadow in the new Warhammer universe crated after the destruction of the original. After this he renamed himself Malerion, which conveniently distances him from the Marvel Malekith. The former dark elf army has been split into a few factions that are actually now allied with the forces of Order, living primarily in the cities of Azyr and Anvilgard alongside their human and dwarven allies. Most prominent are the Daughters of Khaine. Whilst you may think that fanatical worshippers of the elven of of murder would not make great allies, in practice, they focus their efforts on killing demons and the undead, and are quite effective at it.

After Tolkein's novels heavily influenced the fantasy genre, elves, who were formerly depicted in folklore dangerous and capricious, became automatically aligned with good, and often their danger and inhumanity got played down in a lot of rpgs and strategy games. Dark elves bring those old traditions right back into the fantasy world, and in the case of Warcraft and Warhammer, have divorced both race from being aligned with good or evil. You can get good dark elves, and conversely, evil light elves, which is a lot more believable.

Tuesday 6 February 2018

Dungeoneering: The Death Lord

Originally published in issue 4 of 'The Scene Unseen' newsletter.

It's been a long time since a goblin rogue, a merfolk cleric, a human knight and a dragonblood sorcerer first met, saved the small town of Stoneforge from a band of maurauding goblins, and learned that on Zendikar, everything is always out to kill you. I've been running the Pathfinders of Zendikar campaign for one and a half years now, and as it draws to a close, I find myself thinking of all the unexpected stuff has happened. Where once the continent of Tazeem was an untamed wilderness with only brief descriptions of notable places, a few characters from the card, and just three mentioned gods, it now has a fully fleshed out fortified town, three cities, and many interesting people and places.


At first I was very hesitant to add things to Zendikar that were not estabished lore. But in the case of gods, I had to, as the Pathfinder mechanics for clerics require their existance, and for them to each be tied to various domains and alignments.  Needing a lawful neutral god, I created the death god Vaasgoth, and built his identity in a way that facilitated playing a vampire from the non-evil Clan Kalastria. Vampires on Zendikar imitate many aspects of undeath without actually being undead, and can survive perfectly well on the blood of animals, allowing them to choose not to hunt down humans and the other races for nourishment (though many of them do anyway). It was not really necessary, as we later discovered that playing as a vampire is hard on your allies, as your connection to the negative energy of death makes it difficult for healers to heal you. At any rate, Vaasgoth existed as a story hook. He was intended to be misremembered tales about the planeswalker Sorin Markov, and thus, not actually exist. A minor role if there ever was one.


It might seem strange to have a non-evil god of death, but Pathfinder had already gone down this route with their own death goddess. Pharasma is true neutral, sends the spirits of the dead off to their eternal reward (or punishment) without bias, and is adamant that dead things should remain dead, viewing undeath as a perversion of the natural order. Her followers hunt down the undead even more fanatically than paladins do. Vaasgoth is similar, but shifted towards the legalistic side, with a focus on enforcing the laws of mortality, and requiring those who walk close to death (like vampires) to act nobly, lawfully and ethically, lest they find this privilege taken away from them.


Vaasgoth ended up being not only the patron of Clan Kalastria, but also of the near-extinct Clan Sorn, a house I created on the spur of the moment to save a player character from death, now a house reborn after the marriage of Dragor Sorn to Tyri Kalastria. Vaasgoth then branched out into other races, being linked to the death-revering (but ultimately useful) Mul Daya elves led by the shaman Mira Sarith. And of course, hovering quietly in the background the whole time was Stoneforge's resident mistrusted ogre, Victor Creed, who turned out to be a rather pleasant and knowledgeable High Inquisitor of Vaasgoth, and eventually granted my players a boon that makes it harder for them to die. (Because I'm so good at killing players I need to give them extra resilience to stop it happening so much.)


And so, like the gods of Terry Prachett's Discworld, Vaasgoth exists because people believe in him. It was a thing that just happened because it needed to, but it turns out, it does have precedence in Magic, as the gods of Theros were revealed to work this way, and there are some hints that Amonkhet operates similarly. It also, usefully, gives me reason to divorce the only lore-mentioned gods - the merfolk deities Emeria, Ula and Cosi - from their origins as warped memories of the Eldazi Titans. They were based on them at first, but now they exist separately.

Vaasgoth's presence has spread rapidly due to in-game events, such as House Sorn and Creed uniting to build a temple in Stoneforge. The town, now heavily fortified after multiple attacks by giants and dragons, already had one to Emeria - meaning that it now has temples to two different lawful gods, an interesting development. One that will probably come up if people visit Stoneforge in my sequel campaign.


There is something to be said for having all of the mythology in place from the beginning. On the other hand, I think it is nice that my players have had a significant effect on the world in a way not directly related to killing a bunch of bad guys. House Sorn would still be a minor footnote in history without their actions, and Creed would not have had to reveal his true nature, making people look at ogres in a new light. The temple to Vaasgoth exists because of them, and their infuence spreads way beyond even this. Should they survive the final battle, they may very well show up as powerful allies (or even enemies) in future campaigns.