Thief Ability Redux: Piles of Dice

Riffing on Hill Canton's post on thieves yesterday (or whenever, given the incubation period of posts around here, it may well be December of 2176 before these pixels see the light of day) I decided to post my own rant on thief abilities.

What are the odds, buddy?

One of my many grievances with thief abilities is that success is almost never influenced by conditions. That is, no matter how well concealed the trap is or how alert/inert the guards are, your chance of detecting it or bypassing them remains the same.* Sure, the DM can modify a trap or lock and say "your -20 to open it" or whatever, but it's so specific and granular that it becomes a nuisance and only dickheads ever use this method except in the odd extreme circumstance.

In an ideal world, conditional difficulty should be part of the system so the DM doesn't feel like s/he's rewording the Old Testament just so that the lock to the crypt can be a little tougher to open than the lock on your sister's diary.  It should be easy for the DM to assess difficulty without taking a lot of time, rather than trying to decide whether it's a -22% penalty or a -24% penalty, it should be broad enough that the DM can make a decision quickly and we can all get to the matter at hand: slaughtering orcs and stealing their treasure.

So...
Here's how it goes: the thief (or the Maestro del Dungionni, depending on the circumstances) rolls d20 and a pile of six-siders at the same time.  If the 20 sider + thief's level are equal to or greater than the total of the pile of 6'ers: Success! How many six siders in a pile, you ask? Good question: depends on how difficult the DM feels the challenge is. Here's a handy table to use as a guideline:

Table IX.A.2.d(17): Dice Piles and Difficulty of Thieving Abilities

			Avg. Success Rate for a Thief of:
Dice Pile	Difficulty Rating	Description	1st Level	5th Level
1d6	Super easy	Fail this and you're out of the Guild	92%	95%**
2d6	Easy	Only a newb would screw this up	75%	92%
3d6	Modestly difficult	Still, you better succeed if you want  to earn your keep	58%	77%
4d6	Difficult	We have faith in you!	40%	60%
5d6	Pretty Difficult	You might as well give it a try...	24%	43%
6d6	Very Difficult	Better have a Plan B just in case	11%	26%
7d6	Fat Chance	Give us a minute to back up a ways before you try that	4%***	13%

Pretty fancy, right?

Some guidelines on how I'd adjudicate this:****

Picking a lock on a typical dungeon door: 3d6
Picking a lock to the King's treasure room: 5-7d6, depending on the wealth of the king and his security measures
Sneaking past a guard who's chatting with his buddy about the Misfits show he went to last night: 2d6
Sneaking past a guard who's on high alert: 4d6
Sneaking past a guard who just saw you a minute ago and knows that you're trying to sneak past him: 6d6
Climbing a craggly wall with ample hand/foot holds: 1 or 2d6
Climbing a rough hewn yet slick wall: 3 or 4d6
Climbing a sheer, polished, monolithic wall: you're a thief not Spiderman.

... and so forth

Some of you who are more statistically gifted than I are probably thinking "Why not just tell the dudes they've got a 75% chance to defuse an Easy bomb or 40% chance of deciphering a Difficult language or whatever?" You could do this if you have a good idea of the odds of success for every thief ability under a wide variety of circumstances. I don't have that info handy, nor do I trust myself to make up reasonable odds for such on the fly.

The beauty of the Pile o' Dice system is that as a DM I don't have to think very granularly about the odds of success, I let the dice do the dirty work. Yes, on average a 1st level thief has a ~58% chance of hiding in a 3d6 shadow, fine.  But, as DM, I don't actually have to say that.  Instead, I'm saying "your odds are somewhere between 20% and 95%, but are most likely somewhere in the middle, so let's just see what happens here..." This is probably just my laziness but I find it much easier to assign a range of probability than a single, precise value.



* The exception here being picking pockets of leveled characters, of course. Which clearly was a reaction to those dickhead players who insist that it is their thief's moral obligation to steal from his colleagues mid-dungeon, yet get indignant when their moronic character finds himself hogtied and naked while his erstwhile colleagues offer his carcass to a band of gnolls in exchange for free passage through their domain.  
** Assumes 1 is a fumble, otherwise 100% chance of success
*** 5% if you abide by the 20 always succeeds rule.  I know, I'm being inconsistent here.
**** I loathe the word adjudicate as used by gamers--though I don't deny it's usefulness. Still, I hope you appreciate the personal pain I am subjecting myself to in order to deliver this post to you.

Emirikol the Neurotic: Through the Ages

Apropos of nothing, I've been perusing the pages of various Tomes of Guidance for Masters of Dungeons, Games, and Other Assorted Things Which Require Mastering.  You can't look at too many of these without noticing some similarities between the various rules, most notable being the presence of Emirikol the Chaotic.

We all know the scene: back in '79, the eponymous, deathray-wielding wizard aligned himself with chaos and blasted his way through the city streets, leaving a trail of corpses in his wake.  Fortunately, TSR's best crime-scene illustrator Dave "Tramp" Trampier was on hand to capture the event in ink; the result earned itself a full page in the original DMG.

Fast forward a couple of decades and all of a sudden people are feeling sentimental for a time when the city streets were rife with Chaotic madmen running amok.  Numerous retro-gaming publishers commissioned artists to provide tribute to Emirikol's last ride.  Or was it his first? Third? Does anyone know anything about this guy?*

Since the original there have been no less than four versions published in various fantasy gaming tomes.  While the details vary between iterations, what is constant is chaos surrounding a horseman racing through the city streets, an archway in the background, and various swordwielding do-gooders emerging from public establishments usually located on the right side (stage left) of the street.  Here's a rundown on the sequels, remakes, and knockoffs:

2001 Hackmaster: GameMaster's Guide. p. 153 In this version, Emerikol himself seems to be the victim, harassed as he is by a mob in close pursuit.  He appears to be out of death rays for the day, and indeed, a bystander has beaned him in the head with an apple [EDIT: obviously, it's a rock] while another appears to be dumping their slops on him from a window above. No respect. This mostly decent reinterpretation is somewhat marred by the bizarre method of rendering the swift movement of feet that the illustrator chose to utilize. Several short quick action strokes give the impression of rapid movement but it's as if the lower extremities of the horse and swordsman-exiting-the-tavern are vibrating back and forth, not racing to action.  Not sure what the illustrator was going for but it failed.

2010, C&C: Castle Keepers Guide. p. 97**  Peter Bradley's rendition of the fateful Flight Through the Archway has a gleefully buxom witch in the role of Emerikol, this time racing through the night-shrouded streets and tossing coins--or are they flower petals?--to... no one in particular.  There is a pedestrian lying in the street in the background, but he is clearly better off than the flaming corpse lying in the foreground of the original.  In further departures, the requisite samaritan who sticks his proboscis out the door on the right side of the street is bereft of a blade while the "public establishment" has moved across the street and is now a brothel named the Scarlet Pillow. This one is also unique for being in full color, cuz Bradley don't do black n' white.

2012, DCC RPG. p. 63  Emirikol--here renamed and re-aligned as "Lokerimon the Lawful"--has been forced to reign in his racing steed to avoid trodding on a conjured fiend summoned by the "samaritan" swordsman.  The tavern in this version is called the "Smoking Wyrm" and depicts a dragon who closely resembles Tramp's Wormy character of Dragon Mag fame. If one could view this image without the baggage of the original illustration, one might assume that the samaritan demon summoner is the protagonist of the scene, or perhaps even the demon itself, though the "Lawful" sobriquet doesn't support that.


* Until now I didn't even know how to spell his name; I've been spelling it Emerikol in my head for decades. As I will continue to do for the rest of this post.
** Sadly, a halfhearted inernet search yielded no useful image of this drawing.  Unless you're more ambitious than I--or have the tomes handy--you're stuck with my description. 

Chronology of Greyhawk Re-posted

If this seems like a repeat it's because it was ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED AUGUST 20, 2015. I tried to correct some punctuation in the text but instead managed to delete the entire post. Whoops. Heh heh heh.

I've finally completed my annotated chronology of the Flannaes based on the works of an unnamed group of scholars/spies and translated by E. Gary Gygax in 1980, with a second edition published 3 years later.  Big deal you say?  So-and-so has already done this?  Ha!  Here's what's super cool about my version:

What's missing?

1. I won't waste your time with all those made up events that may or may not have happened in the year -20,000 CY or whenever.
2. In fact, I won't bother you with CY dates at all cuz all dates are given in Oeridian Reckoning (O.R.)* 
3. My chronology is not tainted with all the biased misinformation that has been published in publications such as From the Ashes, Living Greyhawk, or any of various modules.
4.  My chronology is tainted with my own biased misinformation which, I'm certain you'll agree, is more informative and entertaining than anyone else's.

Anyway, you can download PDFs of it on my new downloads page.  Or at least I think you can.  Let me know if this is working or not, this is the first time I've tried this stunt.

*Why's that a positive feature when the rest of the world uses CY? A few reasons:

• O.R. most closely conforms to the dates of the significant events detailed in the Chronology: it begins with the opening salvos of the Baksulian War in year 160, ending in 1220 with the apocalypse/publication of the Gaz, which is both economically as well as aesthetically pleasing; 
• it avoids all the silly and mathematically challenging negative dating for events that happened before the arrogant overking of Aerdy decided to make up his own calendar; and, most importantly, 
• when looking at the Chronology in the Gazetteer or the 1983 Guide, the Oeridian dating is physically closest to the text--no need to scan across 6 columns of numbers to find the year the Age of Great Sorrow commenced (857 O.R.).

On Choosing Your Poison: Rogues vs. Thieves

Over the weekend I had a chance to play in a game run by a colleague who actually reads my blog.  Very embarrassing, running into these sort of people, but unfortunately it does happen.

Anyway, this dude--we'll call him Carl--runs a Moldvanian Basic game.  When I rolled up my newest character--Cranston the Thief--he offered me an interesting choice: 

Carl the DM:   I know how much d4 hit-diced thieves bother you, so I'll make you an offer: you can roll Cranston's hit points with a sixer if you want, but you'll have to call him a rogue henceforth.

Me:   Hmmmm.  How deep does this rogue business have to go?  Do I just have to write it on my character sheet?

Carl:   Heh heh heh... No.  From now on he has rogue abilities, not thief abilities.  He has to join the Rogues Guild of the nearest city.  He speaks Rogue's Cant--

Me:   STOP!  Stop.  Just... hand me... the 4-sider.

The moral of the story: Blogger beware!  There is a price to be paid for slathering the internet with your self-indulgent drivel.

Saving Throws: How many is too many?

In my game, I prefer the one universal saving throw category advanced by S&W White Box and perhaps a few other OSR ripoffs as well.  While I find the saving throw categories that Father G. devised back in the 70s to be as charmingly quirky as the next old schooler, they've always struck me as rather arbitrary, needlessly complex, and, ironically, uncomprehensive.  Instead, at my table everyone needs an 18 to save against everything.  Everyone.  Against everything.*

This doesn't mean that all saving throws are created equal however.  When I, as MC, declare that a save is in order, I don't just say "All right dickheads, make a save".  Oh no, there's always a descriptive component to the save.  Often it's "save vs. death" or "poison" or something standard like that, but it can also be extremely specific as well, here's a list of saving throws that I can remember offering to my players:

save vs. poison
save vs. traps
save vs. death
save vs. parallelization
save vs. nausea
save vs. libido
save vs. flesh-eating bile
save vs. watching-your-innards-spill-out-on-the-ground

But it really doesn't matter: in most cases the descriptor has no bearing on the saving throw. You still need to roll an 18 or higher.  As a fer instance, no PC class or race in my game has any advantage over another in watching their innards spill out on the ground.  You're still just hoping to roll an 18 or better.**

However, there are circumstances where I'd allow a bonus based on the characters race, class, or personal experience.  Thieves, I'd say, might be offered an advantage on saves vs. traps.  Or elves saving vs. libido; everyone knows how virtuously dull they are.  They get a +12 bonus in addition to level and any applicable wisdom bonus.  If, despite all that, they still manage to blow their save I'd offer them best 2 out of 3.


*You do, in most cases, get to add your level/hit dice to your die roll.  Possibly other bonuses.  Keep reading. 
** Gutless beings such as water elementals or stone golems would likely be immune to this sort of thing.

Kickstarting the Rants: CKG Incoming!

No, the title of this post does not refer to some cloud fundraising operation used by unappreciated creative types to raise undeserved cash for their unworthy projects.  Rather, I am trying to figuratively kickstart my blogging endeavors by purchasing a book that I am certain will irritate me to the point where I will be forced to eloquize my misery in print.  Which is to say, I've just ordered the C&C Castle Keepers Guide,* so be prepared for a boatload of ranting when this puppy finally arrives.

I have in the past tried to express my appreciation of the Castles & Crusades game, and yet somehow each effort has yielded a blathering screed on the various stylistic deficiencies of the game's rulebooks.  Plus it doesn't help that C&C chose to join the Rogue camp.

But at this moment, I am truly and deeply open to the possibility that I will actually be impressed with this tome when it arrives.  It is my deepest hope that the Trolllord pensters have learned to hold their hands steady in the presence of a thesaurus.  And that the artwork of P.B. Radley will reveal that he may actually be in possession of a soul, or is at least able to fake it on paper.  Occasionally.  And I even have some faint glimmering hope that the content of the book might have value too.

However, none of these are my expectation.

I expect to loathe this book because the authors and artist have failed to tailor their work to my particular preferences yet again.  But my deepest fear is that I will loathe it because it will have nothing to offer.   What if they boisterously purple prose of the original C&C PHB has been tempered and replaced with something rather banal?  Will the content shine through or will it be found wanting?  What if it's just plain old boring?  That would be worst of all.

* CKG doesn't quite roll off the tongue like DMG, eh?

Rogue Rant: Suck it!

No, not her.

Like most of you, I like to pretend that I don't give a crap about the edition wars; as if they're beneath me and all that. Yet also like you, I actually prefer the older, mustier versions of the game to those 21st century editions that the kids are rabid about these days.

That's where our similarities end, however, because unlike you I've actually found indisputable evidence to support my personal bias. You see, post-Gygaxian versions of D&D are objectively inferior for one simple reason: the Rogue. Introduced, I believe, in the much-vaunted 2nd edition of Advanced Big D [EDIT: it was 3rd ed., not 2nd {EDIT EDIT: I've now been informed that rogue was introduced as an archetype in 2nd ed. but not a class, whatever that means <EDIT EDIT EDIT: Now I'm being told that Rogue was a "group" in AD&D2, not an archetype. Did this ever have any value?>}], rogues are essentially thieves with a coat of paint to give them somewhat less illegitimacy.  Or something.  

I don't really know why they changed the name, but I do know that it has been scientifically proven that any edition of D&D that includes a class titled "Rogue"--regardless of any other merits it may have--is clearly the product of an inferior mind and should be derided mercilessly at every opportunity excepting only those situations when simply ignoring it seems more palatable.

I can almost rationalize why TSR [EDIT: it was Wizards, not TSR] might have decided to change the thief moniker--presumably cuz of its criminal baggage--this was around the same time that the title of Deities & Demigods was changed to Legumes & Lorries after all [EDIT: Actually it was much later than this].  But rogue?  Couldn't you try not to suck so bad at naming stuff?  Sure, thieves, by definition, tend to steal stuff; that could be kinda' off-putting to some.  But at least "thief" points to a skill set that has potential value in a dungeon setting.  Rogue, however, is just a disposition of scoundreliness. While that may be fun to run in the tavern, what the fug good is that gonna do a party of adventurers?  Who needs a jaunty-capped seducer of barmaids when your six levels deep in the Acrid Tomb of Malcontents?

DM: The chamber is filled by a viscous, burbling, black blob; it reeks overpoweringly of vomit and strychnine and seems to be sliming its way toward you.  What do you do?
Roger the Rogue: I flash my most menacing grin and offer a defiant witticism.
DM: Ok, roll against your "Crack Wise in the Face of Danger" ability.  While you've got your 20-sider handy go ahead and make a save vs. flesh-eating bile.  

Truly though, the term rogue has come to mean an outlier, someone who lives beyond the norms of society, who is possessed of an attitude of nonconformity.  While definitely more open ended than "thief," this makes no sense at all as the name of a character class.  What you have is a class that specializes in not doing what's expected of it.  While there's no reason that you can't count on a well appellated thief to climb walls, decrypt codes, or defuse bombs for the good of the party, all you can expect from your rogue is that s/he/y's going to give you lip if you ask them to do something:

Fred the Fighter: I try to open the door on the west wall.
DM: It's locked.
[The rest of the party looks meaningfully at the "Rogue"]
Rachel the Rogue:  Stick it ya' buncha' hosebags, I'm not your lapdog. [Leaps onto a nearby table sending crockery flying and raises a fist in the air]  Fight the power!