Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Wending My Way Back Home

I had a long journey, but I'm back home in the tower and ready to start howling again.

My hiatus was not caused by a lack of writing but by an overabundance. I've finally wrapped up two adventures for Wizards of the Coast that together totaled over 80,000 words, not counting rewrites. The first of them, "The Blood of Gruumsh," just came out in Dungeon online this month. You can't get it if you're not a subscriber, of course, but if you are a subscriber, I'm always interested in hearing reactions. Though the adventure is written for 4E, it isn't dependent on 4E to work. You could run it with minor alterations in any edition of D&D or whatever other fantasy RPG you favor.

The mandate for "The Blood of Gruumsh" was to write an adventure using all the miniatures from the just-released "Blood of Gruumsh" expansion to the Dungeon Command miniatures game. During the planning process, the phrase "the blood of Gruumsh" came to mean something entirely different from where it started (and from what most people will expect), in a way that gave the adventure a whole new twist. That sort of thing pleases me greatly when it happens.

Here's the quick and dirty setup from the adventure:

Somewhere in the deep forest lies a derelict elven religious colony. Vines and overgrowth now obscure its elegant beauty, and brush chokes its soaring halls. This colony thrived quietly for generations before a sudden, brutal raid destroyed it. No survivors escaped to tell the tale, and those outsiders who did know of its existence blotted all traces of it from the records—or so they believed.

This idea of an elven settlement sculpted from living forest, then abandoned -- essentially a dungeon suspended in the branches of trees instead of carved underground -- is one that I've carried around for several years waiting for an outlet, so I was happy for the chance to finally put it into action.

The second project was a Forgotten Realms adventure that will be published as a standalone product as well as being used as a D&D Encounters season and as the basis for the D&D Game Day adventure. It's called "Murder in Baldur's Gate," and it's very different from anything that's been published for 4E. The characters arrive in Baldur's Gate just as the fuse gets lit on some really bad business, and it continues burning no matter what the characters do. They can get involved in the unfolding catastrophe to whatever extent they choose. There are events they can prevent, events they can interfere with, and events that are simply too big for them to alter significantly, even if they choose to get involved.

The schedule on this was grueling, and the only way I got through it was by bringing in my son Alexander as a co-writer. Aside from the obvious gain in having four hands pounding out words at the keyboard instead of two, it was invaluable to have another head that was intimately wrapped up in this complex plot so we could kick ideas back and forth. I can't think of any adventure, for any edition or game, that's structured quite like Murder in Baldur's Gate. It's not exactly a sandbox adventure -- there is some essential structure and there are scheduled events -- but it takes a unique approach to the setup, as far as I know. That uniqueness was a problem during writing, because we experienced several false starts before the pieces clicked together.

If you're a fan of film noir, the mob, and hardboiled detective action, you'll probably find a lot to like in MiBG. We packed as much corruption, crime, decadence, and duplicity into Baldur's Gate as could fit in one Medieval city.

The writing process was further complicated by the fact that the adventure is meant to be equally playable with the 3rd, 4th, or upcoming 5th editions of D&D. Since no one even knows what form D&D Next will finally take, we wound up writing in a way that was largely edition-agnostic. In some ways, that made the writing easier, but in others, it made the writing much more difficult. In the end, I'd say that the total amount of work was substantially more than it would have been if the adventure was for just one edition, because doing it this way demanded so much mental overhead. And that doesn't account for the couple of weeks that were "lost" to just figuring out how this idea could be put into action. In the end, the solution we adopted was not ideal -- that is, I'm sure a better solution could have been devised if we had another six weeks to experiment and putter and rewrite again -- but as we always said at TSR, "a writing project never gets finished, it just gets done."

Which should not be taken to mean that I'm in any way disappointed with how Murder in Baldur's Gate turned out. It was a tough assignment with a grueling schedule, and I'm very pleased with the final product. Reactions from DMs and players promise to be interesting.

So that's what I've been doing for the last several months while Howling Tower was on hiatus. I still have other writing projects going on, but they shouldn't dominate my time the way those two did. Regular updates will resume with a new installment of Adventure Notebook on Monday. Here's a list of topics that are in the hopper:

  • Why monster stats don't matter
  • Rules porn -- Are we addicted to rules?
  • Dungeons = Mystery
  • Death, failure, and feelings of inadequacy
  • You get XP because the world is a dangerous place
  • The emergent climax
  • Ruleplaying
  • A review of Playing at the World by Jon Peterson

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Ray Harryhausen and the Brass Golem


I, like all right-thinking people, am a huge fan of Ray Harryhausen's films. Closing in on 50 years after its release, Jason and the Argonauts is still an amazing thing to watch, thanks both to its timeless story and the awe-inspiring stop-motion effects. I suppose that for people who grew up with CGI, the animation sequences might seem whimsical and phony, which is sad. The irony is stunning: visual effects created with objects that actually existed and moved in the real, 3D world can seem less true than effects that never existed beyond momentary blips of electricity blazing through a maze of wires and silicon chips.

When I was a kid, opportunities to see films like Jason and the Argonauts and The 7th Voyage of Sinbad were rare. We were at the mercy of late-night and Saturday afternoon broadcast TV schedules. If we got to see three Harryhausen stop-motion masterpieces a year, we counted ourselves lucky. Without DVRs or videotape recorders, there was no backing up to watch the skeletons give battle or Talos groan to life for a second, third, and fourth time. All that animated wizardry was on the screen once and then it was gone, not to be seen again until the next magical time it aired -- a wait of a year at least, if not longer.

In the interim, my friends and I made our own stop-motion films using the school's super-8mm camera and G. I. Joes (the multi-jointed, 11-inch versions) as maquettes, along with whatever other props and scenery we could manufacture or scrounge. Our films were violent, gory, and shamelessly awful in ways that only grade-schoolers can revel in.

The fact that I can now order DVDs or stream Harryhausen's entire library, along with just about any other classic movie from my childhood, and watch and re-watch them as often as I want, is immensely cool.

What else is cool is that a few years ago, WotC gave a nod to one of Harryhausen's creations with the brass golem in the Night Below set of D&D Miniatures. Harryhausen's minoton was created by the evil sorceress Zenobia in Sinbad and the Eye of the Tiger. It rowed her barge across the ocean and forced an entrance into the Hyperborean shrine where two more Harryhausen creations, a giant troglodyte and a saber-toothed cat, fought to the death.

Aside from the fact that the brass golem tips its horns to one of my cinematic heroes, I love the way it continues a D&D tradition. In Appendix N, Gary Gygax mentioned movies and screenplays as part of the fantasy melange that helped to shape D&D creatively, but he didn't credit any particular films. There can be little doubt that he was a fan of Harryhausen. Those movies influenced the game's original creators and, 35 years later, still inspire the people working on D&D. On the eve of the release of what may be the biggest CGI extravaganza of the decade, Peter Jackson's The Hobbit, Ray Harryhausen's accomplishments are still worth celebrating.

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

The Tao of D&D

The combination of freelance deadlines and full-time work on Dragon and Dungeon online have been one-two punching my lights out for eight weeks now, and probably will continue treating me badly until the end of the year. That's keeping me away from the Howling Tower, unfortunately.

If I don't have time to offer up pithy thoughts of my own, I can still steer you to someone else's. The Tao of D&D is one of my favorite old-school D&D blogs. It's consistently thought-provoking, and the last few days, in which Alexis wrote about The Golden Rule, Crossovers, and New Monsters, have been outstanding. If you're looking for some shrewd D&D wisdom to ponder, click over to The Tao of D&D and feast your brain.

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

The First Paladin

Yesterday evening, I was invited to sit in on the filming of a new episode of The First Paladin, Peter Adkison's video series about his Chaldea campaign. The group is using the D&D Next playtest rules for the campaign, and they wanted to update their characters from the 1st iteration of the rules to the current, 3rd iteration. My contribution was walking them through that process and answering questions.

If you haven't watched any of the First Paladin vidcasts, check out a few. The campaign is highly political. That's not to say there's no fighting, because there's plenty of action. Instead of dealing with monsters and dungeons, the story revolves around the machinations of the ruling Swartout family. The Baron of Gaunt sits an uneasy throne and faces schemes from every direction, particularly from his own family. Fun stuff.

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Paying Dues

Guilds were a notable feature of urban life in medieval cities. If you were a craftsman of any type in Europe during the Middle Ages, you almost certainly belonged to a guild.

Guilds show up in fantasy RPGs and campaign settings, too; every city has a thieves’ guild and a wizards’ guild. It’s mostly lip service, though, because those guilds seldom do anything other than issue vague threats (thieves’ guild) or accidentally blast their guildhalls through dimensional portals (wizards’ guild).

So what should a guild do? What DID a guild do? Or in other words, why should your character pay dues? (Yes, there are dues. The name “guild” comes from the gold collected in membership fees.)

(Read the rest at Kobold Quarterly ...)

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Say No

In recent years, the philosophy of “yes, but” has become a hot ticket for GMs. Let me assure you, this was not always the case. I’m reminded a bit of the way philosophies come into and out of fashion in business management (are you a one-minute manager in search of excellence?).

If that sounds dismissive, it’s not meant to be. There’s a lot to be said in favor of “yes, but.” As GM philosophies go, it’s better than most.

It can, however, become a trap for the unwary or overly generous GM who’s trying to build a world with a strong theme.

(Read the rest at Kobold Quarterly ...)

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

The Elevator Pitch

When designing a world as a setting for replaying and storytelling, condensing your concept down to an elevator pitch is a great exercise. Not that you’re likely to corner a venture capitalist and a Hollywood producer in an elevator and pump them to invest money in your idea, but because you are going to corner friends, players, and readers and ask them to invest something even more precious than cash in your creation—their leisure time.

I can’t talk about elevator pitches without declaring how much I hate the term. Once that proletarian complaint is out of the way, I’m ready to proclaim that the elevator pitch is a great tool for sharpening up a product.

Did I say “product”? Absolutely! Even if your worldbuilding effort is entirely for private consumption, treating the work as a product is constructive.

(Read the rest at Kobold Quarterly ...)