Tag: D&D (page 7 of 7)

Into The Nentir Vale, Part 1

Logo courtesy Wizards of the Coast

The Nentir Vale is a campaign setting provided to new players of Dungeons & Dragons 4th Edition. It’s present in the Red Box and most of the starting materials. For a party almost all completely new to D&D and a DM re-familiarizing himself with the latest edition, it’s a great place to start a campaign. This will be an ongoing recollection of what happens to the party as they make their way through the Nentir Vale. Enjoy.

Trade caravans often travel the King’s Road in the Nentir Vale. With bandits, wild animals and monsters roaming unchecked throughout the countryside, traders attempting to bring much needed goods to the town of Fallcrest and beyond often welcome the company of adventurers. They’re not always paid, but even the most inexperienced sword or spell can ward off unwanted attention.

This was the situation on a sunny afternoon. Traevus, a wagonmaster coming north through Harkenwood, had a few young adventurers with him when his wagon was beset by goblins. The adventurers sprang to his defense and managed to drive the goblins off. A distant rider shook his fist in contempt of his failed minions and rode off. None of the travelers was seriously hurt. However, a valuable box was stolen from Traevus’ wagon, and he commissioned the adventurers to bring it back.

Andrasian wasn’t about to let thieves escape without facing justice. He also was looking forward to not being so close to so many humans. Their city-folk ways put him a bit ill at ease. He was a warrior of the wilds, and his simple greatsword thirsted for more blood of the wicked.

“Like my Dalish character in Dragon Age, but with a Y chromosome and actually nice to some people.” – Mike, Andy’s player

Melanie Good-Melons, on the other hand, couldn’t care less what the goblins stole or why. The offer of payment, however, persuaded her to join the party. A seer had seen Mel as an infant and predicted both her arcane inclination and her voluptuous body shape. Not one to hide her assets, Mel made it a point to wonder why Lyria wore such tight, dark leather. “The body is something that should be cherished,” she said, “instead of hidden in disgrace.”

“A magically voluptuous freelance adventurer with a taste for danger and minimal coverage.” – Eric, Mel’s player

Lyria, for her part, didn’t want these goblins giving honest thieves like her a bad name. Stealing from a fat nobleman who pissed on the peasantry was one thing, but stealing the goods of a struggling merchant just trying to make it as far as Fallcrest? She wasn’t having any of that. A lithe halfling that moved like a dancer and always had a dagger handy, Lyria seemed interested in the adventure as much for helping Traevus as for the promise of treasure.

“Think Bayonetta, only three feet tall.” – my comment on Danielle’s description of Lyria

The three interrogated one of the remaining goblins. Before expiring, the goblin confessed to the rather intimidating elf asking the questions that he came from a ruined, half-buried temple deep in the woods. Andrasian lead the ladies down the indicated path without incident. They came across the ruin and made their way inside, finding two corridors leading into the rock. They chose one and came across a surprise.

Instead of goblins, the trio encountered a cadre of kobolds wandering the halls of a section of the temple. The kobolds chatted amongst themselves as to how to deal with the intruders. Not wanting to betray that she speaks the language of dragons, Lyria kept quiet as Andrasian asked to be taken to their leader. The kobolds’ master turned out to be, rather than the disgruntled rider, a fledgling white dragon named Farallax.

Farallax told the trio that he saw the temple as his, and the human who they’d seen, Malareth, was an intruder. If they drove Malareth and his goblin cohorts out, he’d reward them. Considering he was both sitting on a pile of treasure and looked poised to wipe the floor with the party if they refused, the adventurers agreed. The dragon pointed to a door that would take them to Malareth.

Beyond the dragon’s lair was a storage area where goblins milled about. The trio sprang into action. Andrasian met the goblins head-on, Lyria snuck and danced around the fight looking for the best angle at which to stab a given opponent, and magic missiles flew from Mel’s fingertips. A hulking bugbear with a nasty-looking greataxe entered the fray. It took a coordinated effort between the three adventurers to deal with the captain of Malareth’s guard, but despite being bloodied and bruised, Andrasian found the heft of the bugbear’s axe rather satisfying, resolving to take it with him.

Malareth’s lair was a dark laboratory full of bubbling vials, moldy books and a few skeletal servants. Out of the corner lumbered a stitched-together monstrosity, a huge zombie that was not likely to fit through a standard door. Malareth dismissively told his servants to deal with the intruders. Mel’s spells kept the zombie at bay, pushing it back and causing it to tear the arm from one of Malareth’s skeletons in its rage. Andrasian’s new axe hewed into bone. Lyria played with her opponents, often slipping in for the killing blow as the fighter’s strength put them off-balance. Malareth’s dark powers often froze the adventurers in their tracks and repaired the damage to his minions. For a while, the fight could have gone either way.

Then Lyria leaped onto the shoulders of the zombie and stabbed it in the base of the skull, severing the connection between its rotting brain and animated muscles. The beast toppled to the floor in a heap of body parts, the magic animating it draining away and its stitches coming undone. Malareth stood alone against the party, and despite his affinity for the magic of death, he was no match for them. Melanie eagerly claimed his staff for her own.

The box that had been stolen from Traevus sat on the necromancer’s table. It contained an immaculate skull that radiated dark energy. The trio discussed the possible ramifications of this on their way out. Farallax thanked them for taking care of the pesky human, reached into his pile of gold and treasure, and pulled out a suit of leathers for Lyria. The party found their way back to Traevus, who explained the artifact was being taken to a monastery deep in the mountains where it could be destroyed or, at the very least, kept safe.

Satisfied for now with that explanation and paid for their service, the trio of adventures kept the rest of the trip incident-free all the way to Fallcrest…

Next: A dwarf “fortress”, the town of Fallcrest and a sparkly cleric.

All locations, NPCs, spells and equipment copyright Wizards of the Coast unless otherwise noted.

Opening The Red Box

Courtesy Wizards of the Coast

Last night was a little different. Normally on Sunday nights I stay at home with my feet up and possibly lacking a pair of pants, and every other week I twiddle my thumbs while I wait for Classholes time to come around. Not last night, though. About mid-afternoon I put on pants and sallied forth to a friend & co-worker’s house for something a little different. We opened the Red Box.

I never had the red box myself, as a kid. I got into D&D around 2nd Edition, and I had just about wrapped my mind around the nuances and algorithms of THAC0 when 3rd Edition was announced. Naturally, I was frustrated. How dare TSR take away all the complicated algebraic formulae we’d burned lean tissue to memorize! Between 3rd Edition and Star Wars Special Edition, fans had plenty to be butthurt about. 4th Edition, released just two years ago, has been met with a great deal of similar ire from those steadfastly devoted to 3.5, people who’ve turned up their noses at anything new coming out of Wizards of the Coast and opting to play Pathfinder instead.

And now comes the Red Box. D&D for beginners. Hurt butts everywhere.

So when we opened up the box, we found the following:

Bag of dice. Off to a good start.

A two-sided, glossy map with two outdoor locations on one side and an indoor temple/dungeon/really big house on the other. Good for a couple of adventures, sure, but I suspect that unless you slice up the interior locations to be rearranged and thus ruin the outdoor maps, it might get old after a while.

Cardboard counters for heroes, monsters and Action Points. I have to admit, this was really nice. Coupled with the map, a lot of the guesswork and ambiguity is taken out of combat. Yes, there’s something charming about “picturing it in your mind,” but at the same time knowing where you stand in relation to which hulking monstrosity at any given moment is a good thing both as a player and as a DM. For folks just starting out, this is pretty ideal. Painted miniatures and custom maps can come in time, provided you have some to spare. To say nothing of money for pewter and paints.

Character Sheets. It was nice of Wizards to toss these in, and on high-quality paper as well. That said, there’s something somewhat limiting about them. Granted, the contents of the Red Box aren’t intended to take the characters too far past level 2 (more on that later) but giving characters a bit more room to grow beyond the one side of a single character sheet isn’t a bad thing. On the other hand, the blank side of the sheet is great for sketches.

Power Cards. This is where a lot of the butthurt is going to come from when fans of 3.5 check this out. 4th Edition resolved to make things a bit more streamlined and free-flowing, especially in combat, and while this wasn’t necessarily implemented well on all sides — half the skills are gone, which dilutes the versatility of a character somewhat — the Power Cards are probably the best addition to the game. Instead of hunting through the Player’s Handbook or a supplemental guide to find the particulars of a given ability, a player has a set of cards giving the name of the ability or power, what it does and how often it can be used. And… apparently… this is a bad thing?

Player’s Book. This is probably my least favorite part of the new Red Box. Now, granted, I understand why Wizards put it together this way. It’s for the total beginner working solo to introduce themselves to D&D. But when you have a few people looking to try it out with ideas of what they want to play, hunting and picking the particulars of the watered-down character creation rules out of what is essentially a Choose Your Own Adventure book is a bit tedious. Again, I’m not ignorant as to why it is this way, and in terms of getting a kid started in D&D it’s a really neat way of doing it. It’s just not helpful to people starting together as a group, and it feels a little childish in presentation.

Dungeon Master’s Book. Tied into the Player’s Book as it is, there are some rough parts of the DMB. The transition into DMing is presented as a natural extension of the CYOA aspect of the Player’s Book, with an owner of the Red Box lending his or her Player’s Book to another interested player so they can generate their character. You could probably pass the PB around from player to player and let them figure things out on their own, but that’d be an evening in and of itself, more than likely. Other than that, though, I have to say the DMB is a really solid intro to DMing, which might be the biggest hurdle some people have to clear when it comes to D&D. Laying out an adventure, coordinating a dungeon’s encounters and handling things like experience, role-playing and treasure can be daunting when you first decide to try it. The Red Box’s DMB keeps things simple, walks you through rules procedures and even reminds you that the players’ choices are just as important as your dungeon and its denizens. As much as I felt the Player’s Book doesn’t help a party starting out, the DMB does that well, once you get over the rough transitional bits.

So there you have it. Those are the contents of the Red Box and my take on them. But how does it work with new players, or experienced ones for that matter?

Tune in tomorrow, and find out.

Story’s End

Courtesy Vulcan Stev

Some of my favorite stories have been ruined because they’ve gone on too long. Even stories I’ve been lukewarm about have taken a turn for the abysmal when more story has been tacked on when it wasn’t needed. It’s so common that it’s been dubbed “Sequelitis” by the Tropers.

It’s informed some of the decisions I’ve made as a writer. I’ve envisioned Acradea as a trilogy, and while I have ideas for extending the cycle beyond three books, I wouldn’t want to do so unless the story is good. If Pendragon gets picked up, I have ideas for a story arc with a solid conclusion. The modern supernatural fantasy/horror novel idea kicking around in my head is a standalone product. Suffice it to say, I’ve learned to go into my storytelling with a plan in mind.

Lately, I’ve been wondering why World of Warcraft is different.

Now, on-going interactive storytelling is a different kettle of fish entirely from your standard-issue long-form fiction-writing. Any Dungeon Master worth their salt can tell you that. Would the epic D&D games played by the guys from Penny Arcade be anywhere near as interesting and fun without poor, poor Aeofel? It’s a collaborative effort, and roleplayers, good ones at least, do not exist in a vacuum.

That said, I’ve been thinking about what to do with my main World of Warcraft character.

I’ve been playing a blood elf hunter since the race was introduced to players in the Burning Crusade expansion. I’m fond of him. Playing an outdoors-oriented, inclusive member of a race known for being arrogant and isolationist has lead to a lot of interesting anecdotes. He’s had highs and lows, triumphs and tragedies – a pretty full life considering he’s only a couple years old in real-life terms.

With the next expansion coming, I’m wondering where he’s going to fit in. Or, more to the point, if he’s going to fit in at all. The story of Gilrandur Dawnstalker feels like it’s come to something of a conclusion. Do I take him on a “coming out of retirement” track when the Cataclysm hits, or is it time to start a new story instead of continuing the old?

The inspiration for this thought came from the pre-Cataclysm event, Zalazane’s Fall. Warcraft’s trolls have always been one of my favorite races in that universe. They have fantastic lore, interesting relationships with the other Horde races and are poised to have a big role to play in the expansion. Of course, their accents and aesthetic don’t hurt either.

As writers, I have to ask. Do you know it’s time to end a story? If so, how?

Round the Table: D&D For All

Dice

When Dungeons & Dragons 4th Edition was announced in 2007, the reaction was somewhat mixed. Much of the community had found 3rd Edition to be a little cumbersome, though less so than the THAC0 days of AD&D. While my memories of lunchtime dungeon crawls in junior high are no less fond these days, albeit somewhat faded due to the passage of time, simplification has never struck me as a bad idea. Fewer tables that need to be consulted and less math required to engineer the result of an action means faster, more immersive gameplay. However, the end result of 4th Edition created an even more mixed reaction than its announcement. A lot of cries went up from players of previous editions, many of them lamentations that the game to which they had devoted so much time and attention had now been destroyed thanks to generalization and appealing to the lowest common denominator. D&D, in their minds, had become the Madden of role-playing games, with new books coming out every so often to keep the Wizards of the Coast money machine churning instead of doing anything innovative or keeping with the traditions of the previous iterations of the game.

But just because someone’s loud doesn’t mean they’re right.

Similar criticism has been levelled against the 2009 film Star Trek. While in terms of storytelling and effects it was outshone by District 9, released in the same summer, Star Trek was not quite as dumb as some claim. It didn’t have the true dramatic punch as some of the better series episode – TNG’s “Tapestry” and DS9’s “In the Pale Moonlight” spring to mind – but neither was it a completely meatheaded beer-swilling interpretation of the story. Doing something different with an established franchise is not always the worst thing that could happen to it, and just because someone changed it doesn’t automatically mean it sucks. Dungeons & Dragons is no exception. Rather than simply addressing the various arguments against 4th Edition, which might be seen as a bitter & opinionated assault (on the Internet? GASP!), I’d like to discuss the various merits & drawbacks of each extant version of D&D, including the indy child of 3.5 – Pathfinder.

D&D 3.5 – “We fixed it. Kinda.”

3rd Edition, as I’ve mentioned, had its share of growing pains. The first iteration of the d20 system could be a little confusing, and the classes were anything but balanced. With sorcerers & wizards vying for the position on the party as the finger-wiggler, fighters & barbarians arm wrestling and rogues picking locks, nobody played bards. In higher-level encounters, provided the cleric or magic-user in the party has looked up all the rules, errata & Ask the Sage articles for a spell of doom, the fighter’s job basically becomes that of a big, clunky distraction – and people say 4th Edition plays like an MMO. The distribution of skill points and limitations on class skills also tended to have the fighter wondering where the bad guy was up until the point said bad guy was stabbing them in the kidneys.

3.5 addressed some of these issues, and the amount of prestige classes available let players aim their characters in a certain direction that would help to keep them interested. For all its faults, 3.5 is a relatively solid system, geared towards the heroic endeavors of high fantasy. If you’re okay with the problems I’ve pointed out, and can get your head around the frankly embarrassing amount of rules involved or have a DM who’s fine with winging it through 90% of a campaign, there’s nothing wrong with playing 3.5 Dungeons & Dragons.

Pathfinder: D&D 3.75

Before I talk about 4th Edition, I want to touch on Pathfinder. While I have yet to play in a campaign myself (a friend has one in the works), a cursory glance at the SRD indicates that Pathfinder is a well-organized branch of the 3.5 tree, with classes more balanced, rules that make more sense and slightly less laborious class progression. Taking a feat every other level instead of every 3rd means your character is going to be more versatile more quickly. I’ll talk more about Pathfinder when I’ve had a chance to really play it, but it seems promising on the outset.

D&D 4th Edition: “It’s not World of Dungeons & Dragons. Honest.”

Let me get the obvious out of the way first. Yes, all of the classes have powers that define what they can do in combat, divided between at-will, encounter and daily use – “cooldowns” in the lexicon of people familiar with MMOs. And yes, the classes are divided among four main categories: Leader, Defender, Striker & Controller. If at this point you think 4th edition is turning D&D into an MMO on your tabletop, go ahead and start writing your hate mail now.

Go on. I’ll wait.

All done with the flaming? Fantastic. Now here’s why you’re wrong.

Two big problems with previous editions of D&D were in the laborious write-ups for the pages and pages of spells available to spell-casters, and the power gap that grew between spell-casters and melee classes as character levels rose. In 4th edition, no matter what class you’ve chosen, there’s something you can do every turn to help the party that goes beyond whacking away at a monster with a stick. And you have a few options to choose from at 1st level. A party of starting characters in D&D can take on an entire dungeon of opponents without having to worry too much about a TPK, whereas in 3.5 a wizard has more than a couple reasons to fear the wrath of a couple stray kittens.

The classes in 4th are balanced, if somewhat homogenized. Within the categories, there are a few things that set one class apart from another, but in the broad strokes, Defenders act as tanks, Leaders benefit the party, Controllers penalize the opponents and Strikers deal slightly more damage than the other types. I can hear more people raging at the idea of MMO mentalities creeping into their D&D, but in my experience, it’s a “you got your chocolate in my peanut butter” situation. Some of these changes might have been inspired by the likes of EverQuest or World of Warcraft, but if the changes are for the better, does it really matter where they came from? No party member is dead weight, combat runs more smoothly and with a faster pace, non-combat encounters are geared to be every bit as important and rewarding as combat and the system is every bit as flexible as previous iterations, allowing a crafty DM to create their own world and wing it if they so desire. It’s got something for everybody, isn’t shrouded in obfuscatory rules and is very easy for new players to pick up & play. Some people might see that as a betrayal of the old ways of Dungeons & Dragons, but in my humble opinion they’re provably wrong.

I can only say so much to try and convince people that the arguments against why 4th edition is a step in the right direction are unfounded and composed mostly of the kind of neophobia that keeps people from enjoying the new Star Trek film or entertaining the idea of socialized health care. Some people have the courage to try something new and then admit they prefer things the way they were, and that’s fine. At least you gave it a chance. If you haven’t tried 4th Edition yet, you really should. You can grab quick-start rules, pre-gen characters and an introductory adventure, all for free. What have you got to lose, other than some misinformed opinions and another source of high blood pressure?

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