Adventure Formats and the OSR

Some of the obvious accouterments of the old school renaissance have included intentional graphical and layout throwbacks to the previous era, particularly the Gygaxian format of adventure presentation.

OSR Format (roughly 1977 through 1983)

Using the Steading of the Hill Giant Chief as a template, the following format emerges as the traditional standard:

• Cardstock front and back cover with artwork/description
• Maps, typically on inside front and back covers (though sometimes at the end of the booklet)
• Booklet, staple-bound
• Short Introduction/DM Notes
• Fairly Short Background (Setting the scene, placement within game world, getting the PCs involved, etc.)
• Map Key, including wandering monsters, room descriptions, and descriptive artwork.  Text within the map key was kept brief except where further explanation was needed.
• Appendices (New spells, monsters, treasures, player handouts and artwork, etc.)

This is fairly typical of pre-Hickman TSR fare, all of which can be fairly said to be within the OSR wheelhouse.  Judges Guild materials of that era follow an analogous format, although virtually none had a cover and maps were usually printed inside the booklet or were separate fold-out affairs.

Later Tweaks & Content Bloat

As the game matured, the format of adventures was tweaked.  The biggest changes were in two areas: backround/story-related material (for Hickmanesque storyline-driven games) and in the quantity and bulk of text included in the product.

Once adventures became less site-based/sandboxy and more story-based, larger amounts of background and story material were required to guide DMs through various story flowcharts and matrices.  NPCs, in particular, became much more fleshed out and given a life of their own.  While the point of this was to enhance the "story" and dramatic aspects of the game, it undoubtedly contributed to content bloat within published adventures.  It further made the products less adaptable for individual DMs -- more story details require more work to customize to one's own game-world.

The other content infusion of note was the addition of descriptive "boxed text."  While the goal was laudable -- to provide greater immersion and verisimilitude -- the inclusion of subjective descriptors left some DMs (and many more players!) feeling that they were reading from a script and trapped by the content.  If the author was not both brief and evocative, boxed text became a millstone around DMs' necks.

Other tweaks to the format included improved quality maps and experiments with different types of maps, such as the famous quasi-3D iso maps of Ravenloft.

Encounter Format

One of the more irritating-to-grognards developments in late 3rd and most 4th edition adventures was the advent of what can be called "encounter format," in which everything needed to run a particular encounter was generally (though not always) on one page or two facing pages.  Thus, a detailed dungeon room, its monsters (and their game stats) and all tactics and "developments" were listed in one place.

While generally hated by the OSR due to the "encounter" nomenclature and the size of stat blocks necessitated by later editions of the game, the encounter format has one big advantage -- utility.  All of the traditional formats require a DM to juggle no less than three documents -- the map, the key, and at least one rulebook (usually the DMG or Monster Manual).  The encounter format eliminated that juggling and allows a DM to focus on the players, the flow, and the game rather than shuffling papers about.  This philosophy has developed its own subculture of sorts via the "One Page Dungeon" contest.

Building a Composite OSR Format: Goals

My mission statement, therefore: 

OSR content should be adaptable, easy to use, evocative, creative, and customizable. 

I would further add that we, as consumers of said content, should value such publications on these merits alone and not, say, by its sheer size or bulk.  Furthermore, OSR publications must by necessity adhere to the OGL -- requiring either close adherence to OGL rules or a more generic approach so as not to violate the license.  I advocate the generic approach simply because everyone is seemingly playing a different game.  Within the OSR itself there are at least three major subsets -- white box, Basic, and AD&D systems -- and substantial variation in basic game mechanics.

I therefore propose the following format for OSR site-based adventures:

• Notes/Introduction
• Background (brief)
• Small-scale overland map (optional)
• Unified large-scale map showing the entire site and labelling its sections
• Sectional small-scale maps done in "one page dungeon" style (i.e., "show me don't tell me") with clear links to other sections
• Appendices

By eliminating the Gygaxian map-and-key format and later hyper-wordy formats, the DM is given what he needs -- introductory materials to read and digest for application into his own game-world, and in-game materials to use while sitting at the table playing.  The "one page" sectional map format, by necessity, will provide brief information in order to avoid OGL problems and to keep it adaptable, it should be as generic as possible in terms of game mechanics and statistics.  The downside to this, of course, is that it will require that the DM either adapt the content to his rules system beforehand or have the rulebooks handy during play.

For those wanting to inject a "plotline" into OSR adventures, a slightly expanded background section and a one-page story flowchart is recommended for in-game reference.

So what do you think?  Would you consider buying and using a scenario in my format as described?  How strong is the pull of sentimentality of the Gygaxian format?  Is the size/bulk of a publication relevant to your perception of its value?

On Hubris, Strengths, and Weaknesses in Gaming

One of my favorite non-gaming subjects is that of personal development; who we are, why we are, what we individually do well, and how we can get better at whatever these things may be to achieve Name Level fulfillment in real life.  For those interested, I recommend checking out Strengthfinders, but self-discovery is not for everyone -- and there are certainly many ways to skin this particular cat.

I bring this subject up after checking out what appears to be the current endeavor of Ravenloft author Tracy Hickman, "XDM: X-treme Dungeon Mastery."  While I am certainly in no position to be calling anyone's baby ugly, I confess to a bit of an eyeroll when I read the name of his book and his game system ("XD20"), and began to understand his overall thrust, which appears to be to inject humor, energy, and magic tricks (I'm not kidding) into one's DM bag of tricks.  Indeed, Hickman appears to have transformed himself, rather vampire-like, from an RPG author to what can best be described as (1) a DM motivational writer and speaker and (2) a consultant for budding RPG writers.  I'm not sure whether his seminars involve a firewalk or sawing an assistant in two, but he does his damndest to make them appear "xtreme," as if he were the offspring of the union of Gary Gygax and Anthony Robbins.

Setting aside my distaste for buzzwords and useless jargon ("xtreme" is really unforgivable), I couldn't help but wonder whether Hickman isn't a bit like the surgeon who has made his millions in the operating room then believes, magically, that he is somehow able to invest that money wisely (I'll give you a hint: doctors are the number one target for stockbrokers, commercial realtors, and scam artists).  Here's a guy who, by all accounts, was the darling of the RPG world for many years writing successful adventures and novels.  I would consider buying original content written by Tracy Hickman.  I would not consider buying an "xtreme" motivational product or attend a paid seminar put out by him, for one simple reason: hubris.  Tracy Hickman's arrogance is the glue that holds his website together; it is visceral.

This sort of "I'm good at X, so I must be good at Y, since X and Y are so much like each other" is pervasive among successful people of all industries and nationalities.  Its relative is the thought of "I'm smarter than Bill, and Bill is good at Y, so I can be better at it than him."  Both of these beliefs are born of an inflated ego and pride.

I'm Good at Game Writing, So I Can Run a Game Company

This is common in the gaming world because, frankly, nearly all of the companies we know today started as one- or two-man operations where the head guy wore all the hats in the company.  Bob Bledsaw and Bill Owens ran Judges Guild for its first few years.  Bledsaw was a great content guy (particularly in map and setting design) and philosopher of the game; Owens appears to have been more of an organizer.  After Owens left around 1980, JG's production quality worsened and the company lost its exclusive license to publish under the D&D logos.  Bledsaw was not free to do what he was best at -- writing, designing, and leading -- and got stuck in the back-end of the business (editing and publishing), things for which he was poorly-suited.

I'm Smarter than the Technical Games Guy, So I Can Run a Game Company with No Technical Expertise

The same could be said, to a lesser extent, in the TSR saga of the early 80s, pitting the Blumes (and then Lorraine Williams) against Gary Gygax for control of the company.  We'll never know what would have become of TSR had Gygax retained control, but we certainly know what happened in his absence.  People with a lack of understanding and appreciation for the technical product could not be expected to appease their core demographic, design appealing new content, and keep up with the changes to the game market.

The conclusion?  Do one thing, and do it well.

Dungeon Engineering, Room Density and the Space Between

Ragnardbard inspired this post, via his beautiful maps for the "storeroom" DIY level of the Vault of the Mad Archmage.  One thing leapt out to me immediately: the tightly-packed nature of sections of the dungeon level.  I liked it, but I realized immediately I would never have drawn it that way because of my own preferences and biases.

For you see, to my dungeon engineer's eye, you've got to have Space Between!

Compare, for instance, these two classic D&D maps:

Quasequeton is packed.  The Tower of Zenopus (as the Homes D&D dungeon has been called) is sparse.  I fall somewhere in the middle here, with an acknowledged preference towards having some space between rooms, usually 10' worth.

I find it amusing that I care about such things in a fantasy world that is home to monstrous levitating meatballs with eye stalks, but I imagine somehow that without such a rock buffer my dungeon would structurally fail.  This would seem to be more true the deeper one goes -- more support needed for all that rock-weight above.  Thus, I look at Quasequeton and see a proverbial house of cards, albeit one with some magic pools on the seven of hearts. 

But then I eye Zenopus' abode and say, "my, that's an awful lot of wasted space.  That seems less functional."  Without a design goal (like, say, to reach the underground river in area M), why tunnel when you don't have to?  Couldn't all of rooms A - J been put closer together and achieved the same functionality?

Here's something more up my alley, though it's certainly more Zenopusian than in my preferred middle ground:

The Moathouse dungeon works for me despite its relative sparseness -- though I think Gygax could have fit several more rooms in here easily without having the Moathouse crater upon itself.  Gygax's own above-ground structures were more packed (needing less support) while his caverns and dungeons had Space Between to one degree or another.

Torn between realism and functionalism, and asking myself WWGD, I have suconsciously decreed that a 10' minimum Space Between has become my default for underground designs.  Armed with this, I can effectively suspend disbelief and maintain functionality and design flow. 

I just have to catch myself to not do this above-ground, though.  10' spaces between everything is not functional in a building, unless we are discussing exterior castle walls.

I think I need to go out and draw a dozen outdoor hedge mazes now to break myself of this. Ah, the little internal boxes we make for ourselves, eh?

Skill Systems for pre-3.x D&D

As I've posted over on ENWorld (in the Legacy games sub-forum), I am weighing the various options for a skill system for my planned Dunlyle campaign.  As I explained, there are several options:

1. No skill system at all -- use ability checks with appropriate modifiers
2. Secondary skills only (as per 1st edition)
3. Rules Cyclopedia skill slots
4. 3.x skill points
5. 4e trained/untrained skills
6. The Adventures Dark & Deep system, based on a prior OGL creation, which involves the purchase of skill ranks with experience points, the skills themselves use a modified ability check system.

Flexibility vs. Specialization

At first blush, the "no system" has a lot going for it.  There is something liberating, frankly, about not having a skill system and just winging the outcome with your players.  Obviously, this requires a level of DM flexibility and skill, as well as the trust of the players.  It also requires consistent application.  Over the course of a campaign, the flexibility/"winging it" solution ends up with loosely codified houserules using a variety of modifiers to either the target number or the die roll itself.

My main beef with this (as well as the 1st edition solution) is that it does not allow a PC to excel at a particular skill.  How do you simulate arcane knowledge, tracking, or even being a great horseman in Basic D&D?  Clearly, not everyone has this knowledge -- so you end up with a houserule that says some ability checks are only usable by certain classes.  This creates a de facto "class skill" system where some skills are only usable by trained individuals and others (like stealth, say) are usable untrained.

On the other hand, there are other cans of worms opened with a full-blown skill system exported to pre 3.x D&D.  Many of the rules mechanics (surprise, finding secret doors, falling into traps, etc.) are handled on a flat 1 in 6 or 2 in 6 probability, with no distinctions between different races and classes of PCs.  Once you inject perception, athletics, and other combat and non-combat skills into the mix, you are fundamentally altering how the basic game works -- and not just for the PCs.  You then have to account for these attributes for all of the monsters.  Which is probably why Gary went with a simple mechanic in the first place.

What 4e got right

Yes, my fellow grognards, there were some advances in 4th edition, the biggest one in my mind being the rules for passive perception and insight.  The passive mechanic allows PCs to spot secret doors (in elf-like fashion) without looking for them, and also provides a target for opposing stealth rolls to determine if PCs are surprised.  Passive insight functions like 3.x's Sense Motive skill.  Once you decide that you need a skill system, you need a way to keep it manageable, and passive skills fit the bill.  Passive perception, in particular, helps deal with the trap-finding problem in prior editions, where the paranoid thief/rogue character searches every 10' square with a fine-tooth comb.  Of course, that's what wandering monsters are for, too.

I also like the concept of the trained/untrained skill in 4e, though I'm not a fan of the execution.  Trained skills in 4e are essentially ability checks against a set DC, delivering a flat +5 bonus for training, and all skills go up with character level automatically.  I think this could be adapted to basic with tiers of bonuses for each rank of training (which is very similar to the Adventures Dark and Deep implementation).

How Skills are "bought"

If you have a skill system, you then have to decide how they are acquired.  The Rules Cyclopedia uses a weapon proficiency analogue called skill slots, and allows the expenditure of multiple slots to simulate greater expertise.  3.x uses skill points and is by far the most customizable system.  4th edition essentially uses skill slots. 

Adventures Dark and Deep uses an interesting xp purchase option, trading off xp for skills with a maximum number of ranks per level.  I am lukewarm on this last option, simply because it is such a giant tradeoff for a player to learn an interesting "flavor" skill (like a social interaction skill) at the cost of hard-won xp.  This system feels more like a GURPS-like, character-point driven game where character advancement is piecemeal (do you want to increase your skills or other abilities?) rather than level-based.  I like point-buy games, having played Champions for years, but to me this runs counter to the level mechanic in all versions of D&D and I'm hard pressed to see where a player would want to learn any skills until he was of a fairly high level and the xp costs involved were proportionately less painful.

At the moment, I'm leaning heavily towards the Rules Cyclopedia as a way to provide some structure and specialization to skills in pre-3.x without getting overloaded in details or having to create monster skills to oppose PC skills.  I also think having some kind of rules makes it more clear to the players how actions will be adjudicated.  But I would love to hear how you deal with skills in your games.

Adventures Dark & Deep Kickstarter

Joe Bloch, aka the Greyhawk Grognard, has just launched a Kickstarter funding event for Adventures Dark and Deep, a Curious Volume of Forgotten Lore.  This product is a supplement for 1st edition and OSR products, adding new classes, spells, monsters, a streamlined combat system, and other features.

If you haven't seen Joe's material, painstakingly and lovingly coaxed out of dozens of sources on Gary Gygax's intentions for the advancement of Advanced Dungeons and Dragons, you are missing a distinctly Gygaxian expansion and clarification of the game.  As Joe puts it, it's his attempt to render the AD&D 2nd edition Gygax would have written.

I support this on Kickstarter and I encourage you to do so as well.

Monte Cook is the new Gary Gygax

Since EGG's passing, I can think of no better public figure to be the Caretaker of D&D.  With his links to the game's history, creative energies, and obvious design chops, I hereby proclaim Monte the completely fallible, darkness-infused leader of pen and paper RPGs.

Is he flawed?  Certainly.  Has he given in to creative excess at times?  Definitely.  But, to paraphrase Thomas Jefferson, egotism in defense of preservation of The Game is no vice.  We need someone with the vision and the gonads to take our hobby forward for the next 20 years.

In Monte I trust.