Lost City of the Elders: Out-of-the-Box play with Rob Kuntz

At the most recent Gary Con, Robert J. Kuntz refereed three separate groups through part of his Lost City of the Elders environment. I had the pleasure of participating in the second of those three groups, and it gave me new insight to what Rob has described as "out-of-the-box" or "open form" play.

Lost City of the Elders is most certainly not a typical "monsters in a dungeon/wilderness" environment. Rob is a unique referee. This particular union of referee and environment was a bit of a shock to the system … in a good way. It pushed us, as players, in ways we had not been pushed before. At times, it was uncomfortable or jarring. A couple players left the session early, possibly because of how different it was from their typical sessions. The following day, two other players from my session made comments like, "Can you believe that session? Were we just in a train wreck?"

But I did not echo their consternation. I enjoyed the play session; I certainly learned a thing or three, and I think all the players are better for the experience they had at Rob's table. Given a bit of reflection, I think even the early-leavers would agree.

Depiction of the Lost City of the Elders (from WG5 Mordenkainen's Fantastic Adventure)

From here, I will try to highlight some of the out-of-the-box situations and techniques Rob used during play. I'll avoid direct spoilers (mostly), but because so much of the play was about us (as players) adapting to the changing play environment and trying to stay level-headed, some indirect spoilers are inevitable; many of the out-of-the-box techniques were the changing environment we dealt with.

Player Interpretation of a Visual Aid

After briefly framing our reason for adventure (often a necessary evil at convention games), Rob presented us with a visual aid that offered a clue about where we were to begin our adventure. The illustration was somewhat ambiguous, certainly mysterious, and yet tantalizingly semi-concrete. The nearby NPCs had no information that would help, so it was up to us as players to interpret the illustration using our real-world knowledge and form a plan accordingly.

The obvious ramification is that we used player skill to navigate the situation (which is great), but the less-obvious ramification is more interesting: It forced us as players (many of whom had never met one another before) to communicate, offer ideas, and listen to each other. And because Rob presented the illustration in a "safe" spot in the game world, we got to break through the wall of social pressure without the added stresses of trying to save our own skins. (That added pressure would come later, lol!)

Leap of Faith

Upon viewing a portal unlike others we had seen, our party faced the decision of whether, and how, to go through it. (This was conceptually similar to the "green devil face" from S1 Tomb of Horrors, but not nearly as ominous.) The visual characteristics of the portal gave us no confidence that we would be able to get back through it from the opposite direction, and some physical experimentation confirmed our suspicions.

The simple fact that we could physically experiment with the portal also bears consideration. It immediately showed us that careful thought reaps rewards. And since experimentation means interaction with the referee, one player received a firm lesson in How to Ask Questions of the Referee and How to Clearly State What Your Character Does™.

Finally, because we ultimately concluded that proceeding through the portal was indeed something of a leap of faith, we players learned who among us were the brave players, and who were the cowardly. Or from my perspective: Who were the prudent, and who were the foolhardy.

Get Out of the Box

At one point, the entire party became stuck at the bottom of … well, the specific place doesn't matter. What matters is that only some of the characters had ways of moving vertically toward the exit. For our group, this turned into a "come together" moment. It afforded us a chance to help each other out, to learn the basic capabilities of each others' characters, and to form a plan. It was easily within our means to extricate ourselves, but the potential unfriendliness of the environment gave us an opportunity to ensure we had mutual support among the characters that exited early, and those that exited later.

Add Stress, Change the Environment, and Invalidate Planning

Rob's Gary Con V report (linked down at the bottom) mentions "time compression," so I don't feel bad spoiling this one a little bit. Time worked differently in the dimension containing the Lost City of the Elders. It seemed to change speeds, proceeding at a fairly normal speed for a while, and then suddenly shifting from midday to the middle of the night, or vice versa, and then moving back to a normal speed again. Sometimes there were several day-to-night shifts (or vice-versa) in rapid succession. (Some of the variability may have just been my perspective as a player, because resolution of combat rounds takes more real time than most turns of overland travel, for example. Even so, the rapid day-to-night shifts definitely occurred, even in the middle of a round.)

This was both detrimental and useful. On the one hand, our spellcasters recovered their spell capability just as suddenly as the day-to-night shifts occurred. On the other hand, after some of the shifts, we were stricken with extreme hunger and fatigue, as though we hadn't eaten or rested in days at a time. All this combined to shake up the typical adventuring logistics (what spells do you take, how much food do we bring, etc.), and to encourage us pay more attention to what was going on in the heavens above. It also introduced doubt as to how long we'd be able to survive in this dimension, given that time seemed to be increasing in aggregate speed the further we travelled.

Note that the time compression was only one of several manifestations of an environment change. We faced several other physical or supernatural changes that affected how we interacted with and navigated through the environment. Each such change was virtually a game in itself: Figure out what was going on, figure out if it was beneficial or harmful, figure out if we could alter it, and figure out how best to carry on.

A Figurative Tidal Wave

At one point, we encountered a disturbing-looking denizen of the dimension. Rob's initial utterance indicated that the lone individual intended to harry the party, but by the time his sentence finished, there were so many creatures appearing that they began forming something akin to a living tidal wave, ready to crash down upon us, or climb upon their own collective bulk to reach us at great heights.

So, yeah: Escalation. High-level AD&D characters are pretty powerful. But I don't care what level your characters are, you simply don't survive in combat against literally thousands-upon-thousands of enemies doing what these critters were doing. This was not a single (but very tough) dragon that we can "manage" by forcing it to melee our fighters while the magic-users and clerics concentrated their spells upon it. This was so many creatures that we'd be wiped out in a round or two if we tried to combat them physically. Suddenly our "we are so cool because we have limited wish" characters appeared surprisingly fragile, and it us was up to us as players to come up with ideas to save our characters' skins.

We moved into a survival mindset, not unlike our extrication mindset from the Get Out of the Box example, but this time with a deadline. We had to think fast, and we had to get everybody moving out of there now, which allowed the more experienced AD&D players to impart important knowledge of spell and magic item effects to the less experienced players. It also forced a good bit of naturalistic thinking, as we visualized the imaginary game environment to come up with a plausible way out of our predicament. The naturalistic elements of the game world really mattered, and could mean the difference between characters living and dying. A couple of the players were so affected by the situation that they offered to sacrifice their PCs, obviously to help give the rest of the party a chance to escape, but I believe also because they (as players) were getting stressed out by an escalation the likes of which they had not seen before.

Sadly, this taught one player harsh new lessons in how AD&D spell components work, that wands (and the like) are a magic-user's best friend in times of extreme stress, and (maybe) how hubris can be fatal to PCs.

Pull No Punches!

Quite reasonably, Rob held our level of play to a standard commensurate with our PCs' high levels. This manifested in a variety of ways, the most obvious being that PCs could (and did) die during the adventure. But also, he expected us to be ready with relevant information about our spells and magic item effects, to be straightforward when asking questions, and to not coddle fellow players by supplying answers and advice when the referee asked direct questions of the fellow. The stress level was sometimes high, and part of play skill is the ability to perform well under pressure; a couple of us (myself included) received a deserved slap on the wrist for trying to help another flustered or floundering player.

"Monsters" Transcend Stats

During our exploration, we encountered three types of creatures. I suspect Rob had stats for each such creature type behind his screen, but in only one case did the typical combat stats come into play, and only because we were playing somewhat poorly. (q.v. A Figurative Tidal Wave.)

Rob's use of creatures showed that stats can be thought of as just a tool, subservient to the creature concept itself. The existence of combat stats do not imply that the combat stats are "to be engaged" (through typical combat), any more than inclusion of a creature's height & weight implies that the game is about who has the biggest monster.

More concretely, Rob's use of creatures during the expedition illustrated a concept-first design approach. Presumably, he thought of a situation with sentient beings to be included in the environment, figured out what the sentient beings ought to be like, and then put appropriate stats to them (as a necessary evil, because after all, PCs might take the fight to them). Note the difference between that and the common rpg sub-hobby of "coming up with a new monster."

Conclusion

Hopefully the above techniques and situations aren't entirely new to you. A fair number of referees do these kinds of things already, and that's great. While the specific examples above are from an other-dimensional high-level AD&D environment (12th-14th level, with any three magic items we desired; potency was not restricted), any of the ideas can be applied various ways in lower-level play.

But the important thing is not simply (re)using the above examples or their subcomponents. Certainly there are infinite possibilities; Rob used a number of other techniques in the session beyond those I listed above. The point is feeling the freedom to inject much more than monster-room-treasure in your adventuring environments, and feeling the freedom to flip the play experience on its ear.

Notes and Bibliography

Robert J. Kuntz's designer entry and author credits:
(rpg stuff) http://index.rpg.net/display-search.phtml?key=contributor&value=Robert+J.+Kuntz
(rpg stuff) http://rpggeek.com/rpgdesigner/1188
(board games) http://boardgamegeek.com/boardgamedesigner/1188

Grognard Games' video interview with Rob, including some discussion of "open form" play:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QGQ_IICAWkI

Some of Rob's comments on "out-of-the-box" play:
http://odd74.proboards.com/index.cgi?action=display&board=rjkuntz&thread=8455&page=1#112650

Rob's Gary Con V report, which includes some of his comments on the Lost City of the Elders sessions:
http://lakegenevaoriginalrpg.blogspot.com/2013/03/garycon-v-report-from-hinterland.html

Rob's character building guidelines for his Lost City of the Elders sessions:
http://odd74.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=rjkuntz&action=display&thread=8563

Gary Con convention site:
http://www.garycon.com/index.php

Finally, the small print: I had two very nice drinks over the course of the last half of the session, delivered by the fine wait staff at the Geneva Ridge Resort, so my memory may not be 100% perfect on all the details above. I may have mixed up a detail or two, but that's not really pertinent to the point of this article. So there.

Interesting Room Trappings?

How do you make dungeon rooms more interesting through various trappings & details?

First (inferior) answer: If the room is likely to be a combat location, or you want it to be exploited as a possible combat location, then add anything which might affect combat: Barriers, arrow-slits, trenches, a ballista, murder holes, crenellated ledges, substances that might hinder escape / pursuit, distractions to allow ambushes, etc.

Second (better) answer: Consider thinking concept-first instead of trappings-first.

Trappings don't automatically make rooms interesting. Interest is built by the presence of meaningful choices in the environment. Come up with the concept of those choices first, and then the trappings naturally suggest themselves.

For example, let's say you want one of the underlying concepts for your dungeon to be "a place where creatures (including PCs) can be chopped apart (sometimes voluntarily) and reassembled into amalgamations, with capabilities appropriate for the parts removed & added."

From there it's easy to come up with a variety of trappings that help communicate and enable meaningful choices:

• detached (and still animate) heads in jars of "life fluid"
• cold storage areas with all manner of limbs
• carts with straps for transporting "patients" around
• various saws mounted in the walls
• special guillotines of various sizes
• journals, books, or charts with relevant research / clues as to the purpose of the dungeon, and or its operation (heh)
• containers of flesh adhesives
• suturing gear
• recovery beds
• cages with captives destined for disassembly
• summoning areas & gear, to bring in "special" candidates for disassembly
• makeshift graveyard for unwanted remains of candidates

Early D&D Play Reports

Using grodog's list of Greyhawk Sources, and then doing some google searches, one can find the text of play reports for early D&D...

Swords and Sorcery (pub 1974 May)
PDF: http://www.mediafire.com/?bor4es71bnhbej1
Source: "Swords and Sorcery - In Wargaming" from Wargamer's Digest (Volume 1, Number 7)
Note: PDF found via the internet archive cache of the Axe & Hammer blog. (See the Free Downloads section on the right-hand side of the page.)

The Giant's Bag (pub 1975 April)

Text: http://greyhawkgrognard.blogspot.com/2011/06/giants-bag.html

Source: Great Plains Game Players Newsletter #7

The Magician's Ring (pub 1975 June)

Text: http://greyhawkgrognard.blogspot.com/2010/08/magicians-ring.html

Source: "Dungeons & Dragons - The Magician's Ring" from Wargamer's Digest (Volume 2, Number 8)

The Expedition Into the Black Reservoir (pub 1975 September)
Text Part 1: http://www.greyhawkonline.com/grodog/gh_castle_black_reservoir1.html
Text Part 2: http://www.greyhawkonline.com/grodog/gh_castle_black_reservoir2.html
Source: "The Expedition Into the Black Reservoir; a Dungeon Adventure at Greyhawk Castle" (El Conquistador, September 1975)

Mini Review: CAS2 Tower of Blood and CAS1 Cairn of the Skeleton King

What follows is my very brief review, originally written in 2008, of CAS2 Tower of Blood (by Robert J. Kuntz and Lance Hawvermale), after only having read the module. (This is not a play review.) It also contains bits and pieces of review-like info regarding CAS1 Cairn of the Skeleton King (by Robert J. Kuntz). Click on the module names above for physical details, page count, etc.

Warning: There are SPOILERS here! I'll try to keep them subtle or cryptic. But don't blame me if they reveal too much! 

Better late than never, I suppose. I only recently acquired a copy of Tower of Blood, and finished reading it the other night. 

I agree that it has a different overall feel from Cairn, but - personally - I like the variety. Whereas Cairn can be dropped into a campaign virtually as-is (especially if you prune out Warrens) and still provide hours of fun, it doesn't implicitly get the DM's creative juices flowing to the extent that you have to think about how the actions of the PCs therein affect the overall direction of the campaign. Or rather, the PCs can complete their goals within the Cairn and move on without worrying about any loose ends that may have unraveled. (I'm ignoring the Warrens on that point.) 

By contrast, Tower of Blood forces the DM to think about a variety of subjects before or during play: What are the details of the area behind the barrier (because the PCs could easily end up going past the barrier)? What are the details for the area (two areas?) behind the portal? What are the details for the "guy behind the guy?" What events will happen if the PCs don't stop the latent machinations of the occupants of the area? Should the ramifications matter? What if the players don't want to care for that sort of world plot? Should I wait to run this module until after any related PPP modules are published? 

As a result, I think Tower of Blood implicitly offers higher potential for richness in the game. Certainly Cairn can be expanded to have that richness, but you have to go out of your way to remind yourself to add it, when Tower of Blood forces you to consider the richness. And the deeper motivations of the NPCs in Tower provide a fantastic foundation for understanding how the environment may change between PC forays into its depths: What do monster survivors really care about, and how will they organize themselves to best ensure their priorities are carried out? (And yes, even the overt villain has two potentially conflicting priorities! Women, sheesh!) Tower gives plenty of foundation from which to answer such questions. 

That's not to say that Tower of Blood forces itself to have a lasting impact on the campaign. Which is to say that Cairn's standalone feel (especially minus the Warrens part) is beneficial for some campaigns or parts thereof, such as when you need a standalone adventure that injects XP into the PCs prior to a plot-arc-driven, higher-level adventure. Tower can certainly be used as a similar device if you sever a few plot connections or change the superficial details of NPC motivations. 

It's relatively trivial to dissociate the overt villain from the shadow world, and put a more mundane (though possibly less imaginative) goal behind the barrier. Perhaps even something associated with the villain's imprisoned love. And in doing so, you still have the makings of several evenings of exciting adventure! 

Personally, I prefer to DM games grounded on the prime material plane, so I'd be likely to disconnect the situation at the Tower of Blood from the plane of shadow and substitute something else dependent on the needs of the campaign at the time the players began it. I'd probably also remove the entrance to the Spider Queen's area, and instead use her and her residence at some other point in the campaign for some other purpose. As with the flexible motives of the denizens of the Tower, the Spider Queen's goals and environment are similarly flexible. 

I applaud Rob & Lance for all of their hard work on Tower (and Cairn!) for their work will allow me to be lazy and still have great fun! Very well worth the money!

Originally posted on the Pied Piper Publishing forums in 2008:
http://piedpiperpublishing.yuku.com/reply/30418/First-review-from-Melan-DF#reply-30418

Vance-ier Magicians

To bring the magic-user class a little bit closer to the presentation of magicians in Jack Vance's The Dying Earth, replace the usual AD&D / D&D spells memorized per day limits with the following chart. Despite the fact that the aggregate per-day limit (of all spells, total) is lower than standard AD&D / D&D, this potentially increases a magician's power in certain exploitable ways at higher levels, as explained later.

Magic-  Total      Max

user    Spells     Spell

Level   "Per Day"  Level    Other Memorization Limits

1st     1          1        -

2nd     2          1        -

3rd     2          2        no more than one 2nd level spell

4th     3          2        no more than two 2nd level spells

5th     3          3        no more than one 3rd level spell

6th     4          3        no more than two 3rd level spells

7th     4          4        no more than one 4th level spell

8th     5          4        no more than two 4th level spells

9th     5          5        no more than one 5th level spell

10th    6          5        no more than two 5th level spells

11th    7          5        no more than three 5th level spells

12th    7          6        no more than one 6th level spell

13th    8          6        no more than two 6th level spells

etc.

Magic-user Level: The experience level of the character in question.

Total Spells "Per Day": The magician can keep memorized (i.e. prepared and ready-to-cast, as usual) no more than the listed number of spells at one time. These spells may be of any level or mix of levels known to the magician (but see Other Memorization Limits below). As usual, to memorize new spells, the magician must be well-rested. So effectively, the listed number is a limit on the quantity of spells that the magician can cast in one day.

Max Spell Level: The highest spell level the magician can memorize.

Other Memorization Limits: Due to the mnemonic challenge of mastering each new level of spells, only a fraction of a magician's spells "per day" limit can be used to memorize his highest level spells. He is not required to memorize any of his highest level spells, of course, but if he does, the stated limit applies.

So for example, a 13th level magician can memorize 8 spells at a time. He might choose to memorize two 6th level spells, plus six spells of 5th level or lower. Or he could memorize one 6th level spell, plus seven spells of 5th level or lower. Or all eight of his spells could be of 5th or lower level.

Less powerful? More powerful?

At low-to-mid levels, these variant magicians are certainly less potent in an absolute sense. But once the magician reaches 4th level, he is able to memorize more 2nd level spells at a time than would a normal 4th level AD&D magic-user: 3 for this variant vs. 2 for standard AD&D. While only modest at this point, the potential for leverage increases at higher levels. A 9th level variant magician can memorize far more 4th level spells than a normal 9th level AD&D magic-user: 5 vs. 2. And a 13th level variant magician can memorize eight 5th level spells, if he so desires.

If you use Bonus Spells for high stats...

Only use this if your system already grants magic-users bonus spells for high Intelligence. (The following rule isn't suitable for variant magicians in AD&D, for example.)

For systems that grant bonus spells for high Intelligence, even just a single bonus spell is worth a lot more in this variant system. Instead of increasing spells per day, consider raising the Other Memorization Limit by one, when Intelligence is sufficiently high. So an 11th level variant magician with a high Intelligence could still only memorize seven spells at a time, but now four of those could be 5th level.

Optional rule: Memorization "slots" are reclaimed only when the spell's duration expires

In other words, casting a spell is not sufficient to "clear room" in the magician's head for another memorized spell. In addition, the spell must end. So long duration spells (such as invisibility, which can potentially last many days) continue to "use up" a magician's memorization slot, until such time as the spell expires, or is canceled/dispelled.

As a minor point of counterbalance, the magician automatically senses when one of his in-progress spells has been terminated, no matter how far he is from the particular effect.

Contest: Where's This Illustration From?

First person to correctly identify the publication containing this illustration gets a free PDF copy of your choice of either F1 The Fane of Poisoned Prophecies or F3 Many Gates of the Gann. Post your answer to the comments below. (Edit: Contest over, since I revealed the answer to someone already. It was contained in an issue of Players Association News published by TSR UK. I forget which issue, but if I get the chance to look it up, I will post it here later.)

(I don't know whether this shows up in more than one published thing. If it does, you need to identify the particular thing I took the picture from. Life can be hard.)

Appreciate the Un-Fun bits in Your Game!

Do you put too much importance on Fun in your games?
Do you give Fun too much respect?
Do you use the word "Fun" too much when discussing game elements?

Sure, it's generally true that, when viewed at a whole entity, any given game is fun – or has the potential to be fun – at least in retrospect, and probably during much of the actual play.

But that doesn't mean all the individual parts of a game should be fun, when examined individually. (Each separate rule, mechanic subsystem, monster, etc.) And it doesn't mean you should reflexively remove the un-fun stuff from a game.

Embrace a little bit of worthwhile un-fun!

There's nothing wrong with improving a game through the addition of things that are un-fun.
Sometimes we use un-fun mechanics specifically because they are un-fun.
Sometimes we use un-fun mechanics because they improve us as people (outside the game), or give us practice with useful real-world skills; play isn't necessarily about entertainment only.
Sometimes we eschew fun mechanics because it improves the atmosphere, simulation, challenge, or level of engagement in the game.

For example, tracking encumbrance in AD&D is definitely not fun, but I use those rules anyway because they improve the game in various ways. Ditto for level drain, mapping, character death, calculating experience points, and many other un-fun subsystems. As a non-role-playing example, the slapping part of the red hands game is not fun (ouch!), but it certainly improves that game! (This may seem like a juvenile example, but I have seen dozens of mature adults playing red hands while standing in line at amusement parks.) Of course, many contact sports contain copious amounts of un-fun elements (or the potential for un-fun experiences), and yet those games are improved through the inclusion of those un-fun elements.

Fun is not necessarily additive. You don't always get a more worthwhile experience by piling on more and more fun stuff. Sometimes the final benefit of an overall experience is increased through the judicious use of un-fun elements, and/or the removal of certain fun elements.

Don't be afraid to admit you use un-fun elements in your games. Don't be afraid to label them "un-fun" when you discuss them. "Un-fun" does not mean "bad." Labeling something as "fun" isn't the same as liking something; you can like un-fun things. Using un-fun mechanics does not make you a bad player or DM, despite the undercurrent created by others' prevalent use of "fun" as a justification.

Help quash that undercurrent by using words other than "fun" to justify game elements, even ones that improve through addition. "Fun" is a cop-out. It's almost a meaningless word, and you can probably come up with a more specific, more illuminating reason for doing something (or not doing something) than, "because it's fun."