We were playing Labyrinth Lord when we hit some downtime. I don't remember if somebody needed to step outside for a cigarette or if it was a bathroom break, but, regardless, myself and the cleric of chaos were talking about Turn Undead.

We cracked jokes about how the mighty and devout clerics made undead run away, how useless it was, and how incredibly rediculous the whole idea of every cleric turning undead was.

Then it hit me.

We'd recently been playing the Warhammer Fantasy Roleplaying Game, and one of the things that really stood out for me was the use of the wizard's sight. Basically, wizards were in tune with the ebb and flow of magic, to the point where they could detect sorcery. But this isn't the generic, flavorless "Oh, it's a 3rd level abjuration spell" of the Detect Magic spell. Hell no.

Witch sight would only tell you that greenish tendrils hang from the ceiling, or that a bluish, transparent, crystalline mesh covers that sword you just found. Maybe it would tell you that the ominous building you stand before is wreathed in ethereal fire, or that your buddy is covered in an orange mist.

Witch sight could tell you much, or it could tell you nothing. But it was always something interesting, and it does detect magic. Sort of. Sure, it's got false positives, but never a false negative. If anything, it makes the players more cautious than they might be otherwise, which is just fine considering we play Labyrinth Lord, a retroclone. Caution isn't a bad idea when no two of them have more than 10 hit points apeice.

So I've replaced Turn Undead with Witch Sight for the cleric. It fits better, especially with him being a Cleric of Chaos, and it enhances the game a lot. They've strategically used it just about any chance they've gotten, and they really seem to be enjoying the added descriptive flourishes that their characters experience.


I'd recommend adding something of this sort to just about any character who can use magic, honestly. It's a great deal of fun and really reinforces the fact that these characters are a little more sensitive, unusual, and intuitive than normal people. It sets them apart in a way that few other abilities really do.

Verdande

Now, anybody who knows me knows exactly what I think about alignment, and why, and I'm sure that anybody who frequents these boards already has quite a strong opinion already.

So I'm not going to touch it. Instead, I'm going to share my ideas on how I personally run alignment.

This system is easy to use, simplistic, and provides something for everybody without forcing alignments to everybody, while still allowing those who like alignments to use them as they will.

Now, anybody who's read any of the works of Micheal Moorcock will undoubtedly know that one of the most powerful themes in his writing is that of the grand battle against the Lords of Law and the Lords of Chaos, with the Grey Lords somewhere in between, ensuring that the balance of creation and stagnation remains suitable to their grand designs.

Now what does that mean for characters?

First, an alignment of Lawful or Chaotic does not mean that the character takes a side on the stable vs. creative spectrum, or whatever it is, exactly, that people have interpreted that particular axis of 3rd Edition alignments to mean. No, an alignment of Lawful or Chaotic means that the character serves Law or Chaos, and that's it.

Secondly, alignments are only available to servants, priests, or otherwise devoted individuals. Note that this is not limited to paladins, clerics, and other game-world constructs. If your theif is a devout believer, then he can be Chaotic or Lawful, as you choose. Your cleric could be a cleric of the Grey Lords, and be neutral. It's up to you.

Thirdly, and most importantly, your alignment does not control your personality. There are grasping, cruel, avaricious Lawful people and there are rigid, pious, and chaste Chaotics in the world. Lawful and Chaotic, to use a modern world example, are like the difference between religions. There are cold-hearted Christians like there are cold-hearted Muslims or Buddhists or Wiccans, just as there are kind-hearted people. The religion they follow influences their behavior only superficially- they are still the same people they were before.

Of course, there is a little more influence as far as clerics and alignments go- Chaotic clerics often turn into raving, psycopathic madmen and Lawful clerics often turn into rigid, serious judges, but I suppose that's a topic for an entirely different blog post.

Verdande

Or: Why I Never Use Alignment

Now before anybody gets the wrong idea, let it be said that this isn't one of those troll-bait, flame questions. This is a serious inquiry into the topic of evil itself. It's a big topic, to be sure, but here's one way to break it down: "What does it mean to be evil in a roleplaying game?"

Most people know what evil means, in and of itself, even if they can't define it in great, broad strokes. They'll point to rape, child molestation, mass murder, callousness, or any other factor. But what does it mean in the context of a roleplaying game, where most people aren't comfortable with the subject?

In many cases, it paints a convenient black hat on a person who is to be killed without remorse. Sometimes, the "bad guy" will wear a literal black hat, or a black, spiky suit of armor, or be a demon. Such things are certainly convenient, but are they realistic? Are they meant to be? Is a person with an alignment of "LE" or "C" (in older systems) a person who can be slain at a whim? Is that what you want to promote in your games?

And then, what does it mean when an entire race of people are "evil"? Case in point: Goblins. In 3rd edition, they were given an alignment of "LE", and then they were basically said to be mean tricksters. That's it? Apparently, all it takes to be lawful evil, on the same scale as an archdevil of the abyss who subjugates his followers under his boots and tortures people into the long, hideous sunset, is to lay traps and attack invaders and try to get lands in the same way that "good" people do- only eviller.

This one is one I can't answer alone, because I haven't used alignment seriously in decades and I've never really had any inkling of an understanding of what, exactly, alignment is to be used for. I've heard a couple arguments, both for and against, but nothing that was revelatory. Mostly it's between people who are moral absolutists and moral relativists who argue semantics and whether or not Batman or the Power Rangers are Chaotic Neutral or what-have-you.

Back to the question: What does it mean to be "evil"? What sorts of things are necessary to put the black hat on a man? What does labelling a person "evil" entail?

To me, there is no evil. Looking at paladins, I see a man who is inflexible, cruel, intolerant, violent, and possibly racist. All things traditionally associated with evil, in its most base forms. "But Mr. Crayon," one may be thinking, "that man is only inflexible in his pursuit of justice, cruel to the evil and unjust, intolerant of oppression, violent to the threats to his community, and racist against monstrous foes! He's not evil, he's good!"

Well, put it into context. Let's say you're a king who has had assassination attempts on yourself, so you're a bit paranoid. You raise taxes so as to better fund your personal spies, bodyguards, and palace. You put into place policies to limit the conspiracies against yourself, so that you can continue your rule. You waste no time in putting down the lives of those who attempt to sabotage your kingdom or the land and property of your subordinates. And yet, a paladin batters down your door, slays your guards, and puts you to the sword for oppression, tyranny, intolerance, violence, and "evil." Are you evil?

It's not for nothing that they say that the road to hell is paved with good intentions.


---

What do you think?



(Crossposted, as always, from Sepia Snake Sigil)

Verdande

Crossposted from http://www.sepiasnakesigil.blogspot.com

Something that really irritates me, and had me stumped for the longest time in the development of my own roleplaying system was the issue of classes.

Specifically, how many should there be? What differences should they have? How much customization should they have? And so on.

Most people who have played D&D for any length of time seperate it down into four classes, who, at their core, are seperate and irredeemably different than each other. They usually name Fighter, Rogue, Wizard, and Cleric, letting such friviolities as Hexblade, Samurai, Barbarian, and the like out to rot, as some sort of combination of those few.

Putting the calls of "Bullsh*t! Bullsh*t!" away, let's look at the reasoning for these classes. Surely, there is a good reason for fighter to be there. After all, he's the big tough guy, the one who get slapped upside the head and takes all sorts of pain so the squishier guys can shoot their spells and whatever else. The theif, on the other hand, deals with locks and traps so that the party can steal better, so that everybody gets less arrows shot into them. The cleric, obviously, exists to patch the party back up, and to provide both frontline combat ability and some assistance through his magic. And the Wizard, dear wizard, he exists to fling fireballs and make everybody fly and whatever else he decides to do.

And it's all flawed.

The main flaw is that the roles are reduplicated, or in some cases entirely unnecessary. The biggest example is the theif, of course. Why the theif? Well, think about it. The theif is a character who is a relatively inept warrior whose entire purpose is to steal things and get away with it. He relies upon fighters to save his hide from the physical problems, and the wizard to help him escape from the magical ones. In short, he's a fighter minus the fighting. A warrior without the war. And why?

It's entirely possible to have a fighter who is also a theif, a man who is capable of intelligent thought and disarming traps and stealing things, who is also able to put on some armor and slash through some people. It's called a hero, this amazing man. It's a hero in the very most classical sense, ranging back to the greek Oddyseus, or possibly even the sumerian Gilgamesh.

In the systems I'd always come up with, there were basically two roles, one for each way of solving things. If you solved things with blades and muscles, then you were basically a fighter. If you were a sneaky fighter, then you were a sneaky fighter. If you used bows, then you were a fighter who preferred to be called an archer, or whatever. If you solved problems with the powers of your god or gods or arcane formulas or demon-pacts, or any other sort of mystical and magical powers, then you were a sorcerer. If you were a holy man, you're still a sorcerer. The rules didn't care about the flavor, only your abilities.

That, to me, is how a system should be. It should be rules-light, with no rules for anything other than combat. Already I can see people asking why, people telling me why rules need to be thick and heavy to cover every possible situation and how we need skills covering things like diplomacy and social skills and not putting your elbows on the table and all that "fun" stuff. That's a topic for a different post, and I promise I'll go into it then.

(I apologize if any of this is a bit unclear, I've got a headcold and am running a fever. Bear with me, please. )

Verdande

Crossposted from Sepia Snake Sigil


How to Irritate your DM

There's possibly nothing worse than a disruptive player. They don't seem to understand that roleplaying is supposed to be a fun game with buddies, or, they don't seem to understand that it's a game and not a series of Monty Python jokes.

But how do you know if you're being irritating to your DM?

1) You're way too serious.
You know who I'm talking about. They come packed to the gills with magic items for every contingency, and they talk in character about everything, sometimes to the point where they dress up as their character. They're prepared for everything, and nothing takes them by surprise. Sure, they're useful when you're trying to scale the blasphemous walls of the Keep of the Underhorde, but they're not any fun to play with! You try and crack a joke or two, or talk even for a minute about a funny anecdote you have, and the Mr. Serious over here scowls at you, and ignores anything you have to say. They might even take it out on your character.

2) You're not serious enough.
This one is pretty bad, too. When you're in a party with Alkazar the wizard, Thickbeard the dwarf, and Jacob the Paladin, you're Smackdown the half-ogre wrestler who is always messing up. Or you're Slickblade the fruity bard, who, without fail, gets in trouble by looking for romance in the wrong places, gets chased out of town, or is otherwise the center of attention. We get it, you're a funny guy, but don't use your attempts at humor to upset the game or try to hog the spotlight. There's a time and place for fart jokes, and it's not when you're nose to snout with a demon.

3) You're a stereotypical character.
You're an androgynous elf with a bow who likes magic and fine things and is sneakier and prettier and quicker than everybody else. You're a dwarf with a weakness for alcohol and a big axe and a scottish accent. You're a halfling with a sling and a big nose and you're constantly stealing from people. We get it, you're a non-human. But do you have to be so boring, all the time? Not every human is the same, and you shouldn't be able to peg a demihuman, either. Maybe you're a dwarf who hates the underground, so you're a lone woodsman. Maybe you're an elf who knows he looks like a girl, so you carry around ultra-manly things and tries extra hard to be masculine. Maybe you're a halfling who realizes he's short and wears extra big boots and hats to make up for it. The point is, make an interesting character.

4) You're too atypical.
But you can carry the last point too far. When every level one character you create has a backstory ten pages long, and his own heraldry and developed ancestors and all sorts of irrelevant things, you're going to be upset when character death, a natural part of any game, inevitably occurs to him. You're going to be mad, and take it out on the DM, who has probably told you that it's more than likely your character won't make it this far. Pay attention, and don't lavish character on a guy who's little more than cannon fodder at this point. Have a few ideas, sure, but don't waste them on a nobody.

5) You refuse to follow plotlines.
Now, I'm not advocating that the DM should plot out the entire campaign ahead of time, and decide what and how the characters are going to get from point A to B, and all of that. That's a hallmark of a novel writer, and if you know anybody who relentlessly railroads you towards their grand and epic story arc, politely inform them that what they want is to write, not DM. But there's a fine line here, and I think it's here: Get along with your players and your DM, but make sure each of you is in control. What I mean by that is that you don't need to be pulled along by the nose by your DM, but if everybody but you wants to explore the Unforgiven City, don't refuse to go and cry "Railroading!" on your poor DM. Calm down, and go adventuring. That's what you're there for.

6) Refusing to make up your own plotlines.
This is probably why so many DMs feel that they need to railroad their players. A lot of players don't want to make the effort to discover new locations, or go exploring for the sake of exploring, or strike up a friendship with the Sheriff, or the wench in the tavern. They expect important characters to run up to them and tell them what they should be doing, and for kings to take a break from running a kingdom to point them towards the nearest plot hook. If you're not actively engaged in creating the universe that you and the other characters share, you're part of the problem, not the solution, and you've lost your right to complain that you're bored or that you're being railroaded.

Verdande

Crossposted from www.sepiasnakesigil.blogspot.com .

What's the main problem with other cultures in fantasy worlds and games? That they're just like humans with a tweak or two.

Let me explain.

Elves, as everybody knows, are basically humans with a giant ego and pointy ears who live for a thousand years. They're impossibly stylish, intelligent, thin, strong, and advanced. They live in harmony with the natural world and are incredibly good at magic, but never advance their civilization past what could be easily sustained in their natural world.

What's wrong with that, you might ask? That sounds alright, and, judging by the number of elf fanboys and girls in existence, they're fairly popular.

What's wrong with it is that they're boring. Their main purpose in most games is to provide an example of how to do everything right, and how to be better than you at everything. That's it. Why can't you simply have humans who are better than you at everything, I'll never know. No, it's important that they be elves and not simply super-hippy humans.

As I was sitting in my philosophy of language class, I was spacing out and paying attention at the same time. My professor was talking about how our language necessarily changes the way we think about the world, pointing to such things that don't seemingly exist outside our own minds, like love, justice, and the like. It was then I realized that the basic problem with elves and dwarves is that they, basically, speak the same language as humans!

Now, you could say that the dwarf-runes and elf-script that people claim as the language of dwarves and elves is different. It's simply not true. That's just english, written funny. That's all it is, and it's absurd to think that by turning friend into a flowy script on a ring that you've invented a new language.

What is the solution? Make an actual language for dwarves and elves! Now, it's not actually necessary to literally create a language from the ground up, but it's certainly necessary for there to be a few things about them that humans simply can't understand, or that we find it very hard to understand.

For a good example of that, look at Warhammer Online's dwarvish grudges. To dwarves, every little thing must be avenged, no matter how petty. They keep track of these grudges in enormous tomes, where people write down all the people and places and monsters that have done them wrong, offended them, or acted rudely, so that their ancestors can carry out their grudges, in case they should die.

To most humans, this is absurd. And that's exactly the point! Dwarves take their grudges seriously, and when they try to explain the need for their grudge-books and long, long ancestral memories, humans sort of scoff and look the other way. Even without inventing a new word for it, suddenly dwarves are more than stumpy humans with beards and accents. They've gained a unique way of looking into the world that can't be broken down into mere human ideas. They've become their own seperate race, and isn't that the point of having non-humans in the first place?

Verdande

Sitting in my Psychology class, I got the urge to write a little something. What came out was the general idea of the Cyclopean Monolith :

I've drawn a map of the inside, but it's terrible. Furthermore, I have no idea what sorts of things I should put inside of it. I really would like to continue with my Lovecraft-inspired pseudotheme, but I can't think of any sorts of creatures in that vein that wouldn't shatter the sanity of the poor minds that encountered it, and can be fought mortally.

Or am I thinking of it the wrong way?

Verdande

From the Queen of the Black Coast:

"... I seek not death. It may be the blackness averred by the Nemedian skeptics, or Crom's realm of ice and cloud, or the snowy plains and vaunted halls of Valhalla. I do not know, nor do I care. Let me live while I live, let me know the riches of red meat and stinging wine on the palate, the hot embrace of white arms, the mad exultation of battle when the blue blades flame and crimson, and I am content. Let teachers and priests and philosophers brood over questions of reality and illusion. I know this: if life is illusion, then I am no less an illusion, and being thus, the illusion is real to me. I live, I burn with life, I love, I slay, and I am content."

Verdande

You know, I really like 4e. I do. But if I had to rate D&Ds, I'd rate them 1e/2e > 4e > 3e, and that leaves me with a very real realization that that's the game I need to play. I don't need to play 4e, while pretending that it's the same seat-of-the-pants, low magic, relatively rules-light game that AD&D is, when I can just play AD&D.

It has a darker, grittier feel that both me and my players tend to like. It's not a superhero fantasy game that, though I like it, isn't the sort of world we tend to be interested in. Sure, we want combat that lasts more than one or two rounds, but we certainly don't want to be shooting energy beams and lifting castles and throwing +3 daggers around like they're candy.

It's got more of a do-it-yourself aesthetic that I think is really cool, as emphasized by things like Swords and Wizardry, and microlite74, as well as OSRIC, although to a lesser extent than other games.

In a sense, I'd say it's a bit curmudgeonly of me, to want to do my own thing and not have a gosh-darned rulebook tell me how to deal with jumping and fancy claptrap like skill challenges and 5 attacks a round and all of that muddling junk getting in the way of what's important.

That is, in order of importance, treasure, monsters, dungeon, and you.

Sometimes, it all just gets in the way of the fun to have to deal with how many skill points to get in jump, and whether putting ranks in swim will pay off, or whether this prestige class is as useful as it looks, or any of that. I just want to say, "I am a fighter, and am capable of fighterly things. Now, what's this about a dungeon I hear?"

Verdande

This is for my current project, tentatively named the Verdande's Hack and Slash System. It covers basic attributes and a general idea for character creation in this system of mine. Feel free to tell me why it's genius/a bad idea, or that I'm missing important stats or whatever.

The theme of the game is, if you can't tell, swords and sorcery hack and slash action, with a strong emphasis on killing things and taking their loot and that sort of old-school joy.

Verdande

Since I know my players aren't going to read this, I'll spell it all out pretty easy and simple.

The first thing I took my small group ( 2 players) through was a basic kobold-infested ruins outside of the eponymous mountain-monastery-town of Aether Peak. They cleared out part of the ruins while the kobolds snoozed and stole a large chunk of gold.

I made up the entire thing as I went along, and I'm not proud of it at all, although I think the exact details of where they were have been made up for by my extreme enthusiasm and excitability. I love action-packed pulp combat, and it probably shows by how I shout and yell about explosions and crushing blows and the like.

Regardless, once I realized that this small group could be in it for the long haul, I started thinking bigger.

I realized that I wanted the fact that the town was built on a monastery to the Raven Queen, a relatively passive goddess of natural death and winter and fate a more important fact. It's the reason that the city exists at all- before it was a town proper, it was a fortress-monastery in the secluded mountaintops.

Anyways, I figured a good way to get the PCs involved with the Raven Queen's monastery would be to have a minor theft happen and have the PCs recover it. But then I realized, why railroad them into finding an artifact that was stolen that has to be recovered later, when it's infinitely more fun to have the players involved?

I realized that the high priest of the Raven Queen (hereby abbreviated RQ) would realize that adventurers were in town, most likely hearing news of the loot they found in the ruins. Hearing the "winds of prophecy whistle in the wintry peaks", he would ask them to guard a sacred relic of his, which had no magical power but incredible value as a religious relic. His offer of pay would be meager, but his thanks would be many. Upon agreeing (which I know the players will, since they know me), the players will stand watch for a bit, until the theives strike.

They have an honest chance to stop the theives, if they're clever or lucky enough. If they fail, then that's probably a skill challenge/rp opportunity as they scrape together enough knowledge to figure out who in the hell stole it, and how to get it back.

If they keep it, then they get some nifty loot from the theives, and they still are going to want to find out who in the hell wants to steal some musty old bones. If they play their cards right, they'll find out that it's the assassins of Zehir, god of snakes, poison, and darkness.

What do the priests of Zehir want with some musty old bones? Well, it's part of a plot to pre-empt a particularly nasty archdevil, known as the Grey King, at an attempt to godhood. Through some ancient and incredibly mysterious ritual, the Grey King has need of artifacts from heroes of old in order to ascend.

Zehir and Vecna both know of the plots, and they both are moving to retrieve the artifacts for themselves, so that they can safeguard them and prevent the Grey King from reaching godhood for their own arcane reasons.

Of course, it's not that easy. While the number of devils the Grey King can send are limited, his followers are not. As the players become more of a thorn in his side, the cultists of the Grey King will send assassins, wizards, murderers, and other unsavory sorts after them. It'll be a race to retrieve the artifacts when possible from their ancient resting place, and when impossible, to wrest them from the cultists' hands before they can be used for the foulest purpose imaginable.


Now that you've read all of that, advice, ideas, and hole-poking are all welcome.

Verdande

One aspect that I'm considering for my gaming is adding Tarot cards. These cards will let the players who are usually hesitant about making decisions and directing the gameplay make more robust decisions.

To use 4e as an example, give each player a card whenever they receive an action point. The cards follow the same rules for action points (i.e. they are taken up and redealt whenever the party rests, given an extra after a milestone, etc), but can be used in or outside of combat.

Outside of combat, they can be used to influence NPCs, or alter them outright. It's not an unreasonable suggestion that a PC, when confronted with a thug, could pull out the Tower, and declare that fate has cursed this bandit and at that moment, the King's patrol arrives behind the party. Or when dealing with a reticent nobleman, they could utilize the Magician, and suddenly become more diplomatic and willful to the noble. The noble becomes helpful.

Inside of combat, the players could use them to gain bonuses to a related sort of maneuver. For example, one could use the Last Judgement, a card which can mean renewal, to use a healing surge.

The general idea is that when a card is played, the fates smile on the player, and the card's effect is either upon the players, an enemy, an ally, or the plot in general. There's no reason that the players can't save an ailing peasant with, for example, the protective power of the Emperor.

Using a card is a free action, again, to borrow 4e terms. In another system, it could be a reflex, or to be used whenever it is that the player chooses.

If anybody uses this idea, it's probably good to keep a web page or book of the meanings of the cards, as a player who receives, for example, the Ten of Pentacles might not have the foggiest clue what in the hell it means. An alternative is to just use the Major Arcana, and let players make things up about the meaning of the card. After all, the intention is to get normally reticent, quiet players to speak up, out of turn, to use this surprise card that potentially changes everything.

Verdande

It's always bothered me that goblins are nothing but primitive savages. Hasn't that been done to death? Counting ogres, ettins, bugbears, orcs, lizardmen, kobolds, gnolls, minotaur, and probably half a zillion other races, there is no shortage of primitive, bone-wielding savages. There's no reason for it.

It's always struck me that goblins are considered clever, sneaky, cunning little bastards, who nonetheless still live in caves for no apparent reason. And why haven't humans wiped them out yet?

In Aether Peak, it's a couple factors, that lead to each other:

High Birth Rate: This much is a common fantasy trope. The reason that goblins exist in such large numbers is their incredible birth rate. Now, this in itself isn't really enough to save them, as humans can be single-minded enough to commit genocide on an enemy species.
Cunning: Goblins aren't stupid. They're more than capable of figuring out what they're good at, and what they're not good at. Obviously, when fighting larger enemies, they'd gravitate towards traps. This suggests the rogue class, which is probably a good fit for a species that relies on agility over brute force.
Magic: If they're smart enough to recognize that it's a better idea to stab the big 'un in the back, then they're smart enough to understand the basics of magic. Magic doesn't become less powerful just because the mage is shorter, and goblins can use magic against invading humans in an attempt to save their lands. So, goblins are good rogues and wizards. What else?
Communistic Society: Back when goblins were lawful evil, this made more sense, but I'm sticking with it, because it's still a good idea. With goblin warriors only being useful in large enough numbers, it makes sense that goblins would adopt a more community-oriented mind than the larger species. Since goblins know that they can only survive if they stick together, within a few generations, it becomes "Community or die." Only by acting in the best interest of the goblin species can they survive against their myriad opponents.
Legion Tactics: If their fighters fight in large numbers, and they're not stupid, doesn't it make more sense that they'd adopt roman-esque legionnaire tactics? They'd fight in lines with thick shields, defending their all-important mages from physical assault. The goblins know that unless they work together, they're not getting anywhere.


So, in Aether Peak, goblins aren't tiny, pathetic orcs. They're a spartan, magocratic society where only the strongest survive to defend their people against the hideous race wars that commence. Individual goblins tend to be fatalistic, intelligent, and group-minded; perfect teammates!

I think it's a good step up, personally, for everybody's favorite greenskin.

Verdande

Sometimes I wonder why in the world I'm still a GM. I have an extremely small group of players, owing to the fact that I move all the time. (Curse you, military!) I work all the time on improving, houseruling, and buying systems for an audience that hardly seems to care, and would probably rather play Team Fortress than game. I read blogs about how to improve as a GM, about how to create a story and immerse my players, and how to get them to connect at a deeper level.

All to have my murderous PCs request a dungeon that they can crawl through, some loot they can steal, and an action-packed thrillfest that they expect me to create on the spot.

I suppose that the reward could come, some day, when we look back on this long, strange hobby we've all come to love and we talk about all the actual experiences our imaginary characters have had over the years.

Roleplaying has a wierd niche in modern gaming. There's a huge demand for titillating graphics, and fancy twitch games and explosions and newer, shinier, now! It's exactly what that crazy dude who wrote that now-infamous "I Hate Fun" rant, minus the hatred. I like these new games, and I like playing with people who just want to have fun, not spend untold hours poring over books trying to find a combination of powers that will let them overcome the hideous eldritch powers of a spellcaster two levels higher than them. But my chubby for 4e aside, I honestly feel that roleplaying produces real human experiences in a world that seems to be conditioned to expect the sterility of a computer screen.

I apologize in advance if this all seems confused and jumbled, I'm not much of a writer, even if my head is full of grand prose and fleeting ideas.

Verdande