The Names of Wolves

Nobody really speaks the language of wolves, unless you’re raised by them, or perhaps a wash of moonlight madness pulls your soul closer to the Wilds of Night, and the Old Dark. 

But wolves do speak. Less often than you or I. Their sentences tend to be short and to the point without being blunt. Pragmatically taciturn, not brutalist short. A dog that speaks will have a conversation. They will tell you that they have a favorite tree and that they like you and generally chatter. A wolf will tell you what you need to know, and that’s about it. A dog will say “please.” Wolves do not. And they are fine with it that way. 

If one uses magical means to speak with wolves, one will quickly realize wolves don’t have names like dogs. Dogs have names given to them by people, and thus know that name and go by that name. Wolves have names given to them by wolves, and they aren’t like our names. 

Wolf names tend to be like their sentences, and change over time, as their names tend to be centered around the roles they fill or have filled in their lives. Sometimes, important wolves get important names, but this is a rarity. Wolves are familial creatures, and tend to think of “we” before “I” or “you”. And just like you know many people with the same name (like Andrew, Chris, Ashley, or Jessica), most wolves have the same name. There isn’t a way to separate them, save that they know one another and themselves. How this works in conversation is unknown, and most wizards who have tried to find out haven’t come back, their research lost to teeth and claws. 

Here is a list of Wolf Names:
Closes the Circle
Wounds The Leg
Tears The Throat
Eats Last
Listens
Watches 
Oldest
Harry and Bleed
Howls First
Mother of Six
Three-Father
Loves Play (a name most pups carry, and any adult during play)
Hunter (a name used specifically when a wolf is moving between packs)
Takes The Weak
Den Guard
Runs The Edge

The Cult of Crows

No one knows how long the corvid cult has existed for. Eons, likely, or at least as long as therianthropic cave paintings of men with wings and black birds were lit by firelight and painted with fear and reverence by men. It’s called many names, Raven Host, Murder of A Thousand Eyes, Corvus Occassus, The Crow Cult. Their totemic worship is answered in omens, signs, and whispered secrets in Thrush. 

The cult’s tenets are simple at first, consisting of only three core rules: deceive once a day, always take from the dead, and warn other siblings of danger before taking flight. The higher the echelons of worship, the more esoteric the laws: a feast of flesh, a sacrament of theft, a secret kept. 

Thus fledgelings are brought into The Great Wheel, the first and central circle of the Black Bird Gang. The make-up is similar across the world: thieves, grave-robbers, brigands and street toughs, the usual rabble. But something is different with them, something uncanny in its ability to unify them. Maybe it’s how there’s always a crow watching them outside, ubiquitous though they are in the world. Maybe it’s how they know where she hid the knife, like somebody whispered it to them. Maybe it’s the little colorful ribbons and coins they keep finding on their person, like gifts.

For all the blessings, the great bird-beast they worship has increasing demands. The Great Wheel encompasses all followers, but the Left Wheel follows stricter rules in preparation for the Filled Skies: that certain earthly members, in possession of certain treasures, must be plucked as gifts to their god. Assassins, the lot, murderers of finest skill, Rhyming Rooks, a penchant for poetry with every kill. They mimic voices and sounds without equal, and cling to the dark like black pinions. The Right Wheel finds harsher laws making way for the great all-scouring flock that will pick the earth clean of life: seek the secret sign, hoard the glimmer of glamour, and the gilded coin so greedily guarded by men and worse alike. Wizards, druids, and all manner of hedge-witch make up the arcane arm of the cult, Augers and Haruspex, Magus Magpies and Raven Mavens all to the man. They are the esoteric priests and diviners, giving orders to the other wheels as the omens see fit.

The Central Wheel is the deepest chamber of Their Thieving Trickster God, the truth apparent to their high-priests: The Raven Creature wishes to steal much, much more than arcane might and physical wealth. They divine on carrion, crawling through the wreckage and the aftermath of battles. Some follow armies like black-clad priests of the dead and dying, hearing the last words of warriors and victims like a profane version of confession. They never help. Where else would their brothers and sisters over head feed? Trophies they take: teeth, eyes. Sometimes ears, to better hear and see the cries from the Crystal Mountain filled with the Cold Sun that their god speaks from. 

For members of The Murder of A Thousand Eyes, life is but an illusion. In death, is truth found. For there lies beyond this world another, the Shadowed Realm. The actions they take are necessary, not as a tribute to their dark god, but in mimicry of them. For there will be a time of Filled Skies, when the Thrush speakers turn on the rest of the world, and All Eyes Will Be Blinded. From the Shadowed Realm a new world must be hatched, and the Corvus Occassus will be the darkling phoenix that rises from the ashes.

Starting The Game for Beginners

Thanks to my move across country, I’ve found myself much more firmly in the game-master seat than in previous years. This is both a blessing and a curse, and I definitely have some rust I need o shake off. What baffles me the most is that in the ten years since I have been gone from my current home, instead of being mocked and ridiculed for my game, I have about eighteen people asking me to either run them on the game or teach them the game. 

So, in the spirit of teaching newbies how to play D&D for the first time, here’s my spiel I give to people about to play D&D the first time, and some home-brew rules: 

So, we’re gonna play a game that is mostly cooperative storytelling. We’re all working to tell the story together, but you play the main characters and heroes, and I as the referee will handle all the other stuff, like setting and villains. There is no wrong way to play this game, and everybody plays differently and for different reasons. Some people play because they like to kick butt and be big action heroes, others play to solve puzzles and be challenged mentally. Others play to stretch their acting chops, while others prefer the numbers and math of the game. None of these ways are wrong, and you may find that one or more of these aspects suits you. 

Because we’re all playing with new friends and such, many of us don’t know what kinds of stories we all like, or what content is ok. Lots of people have things in their past which may greatly upset them. I’ve played with combat vets and struggling parents, both of which let me know certain content wasn’t ok with them in the game. So if anything another player or their character does upsets you, hold your hands in an “X” above your head. We’ll immediately end that scene, move to another player for a moment, and then take a break. You can then talk to me or another player you feel comfortable with about that scene, what upset you, and both I and all the other players will make sure it doesn’t ever come up again. Also, if you know ahead of time not to mention or include a particular subject, let me know and I will address it at the table. 

Now, if you’re gonna be playing a hero, you need to come up with one. So, if you don’t write or just make up people for fun, I would like you to just choose a character or two from a book or movie you like who’s the hero, and imagine them as the same person, or decide what you like about them or why you’d want to play them in a TV show. Give them a name of your choosing and figure out how they’d look in this setting. 

No matter who or what you’re playing, understand you’re playing an Adventurer: some one who, for whatever reason, has chosen to engage in a high risk, high reward career path that can lead to gold, glory, and fame, or death, destruction, or worse. Typically, most adventurers start this path, because they are flat broke and a very special combination of brave, stupid, or both. 

While the rules often say to choose your species or race first, I’m gonna actually ask you to pick a class, or a job, first. Mostly because it has a lot more effect on what you do as an adventurer, and how you interact with the game itself. As a matter of fact, I prefer it if you’d all be human, but I understand a lot of people just love elves and dwarves and want to play those things. So we can talk about that later, if you want, but choosing your job is tough enough (especially as their are so many of them in the latest version of the game!). If you feel overwhelmed, I suggest choosing from the four original jobs the game had: Fighter, Rogue, Wizard, and Cleric.

Now for the numbers part, all players start with 16,14,12,10,8,6 assigned as they choose among their Ability Scores. From here you can calculate the rest of the math for the latest version, or any version, of the game using the rulebook. I know some of you have heard of “rolling” these numbers, but assigning an array like this keeps it fair among all players and prevents problems with powerful or weak characters.

From there, you can follow the book’s easy QuickStart guide to making a character. You don’t have to worry about backgrounds and such that the book lists, but do have an idea of your character’s past, and what has forced them into the adventuring life.

Opinion: Plot Hooks are Extraneous

So I’ve been doing some mixed reading lately and I’m trying desperately to find where I read it, but recently a blog I read stated that they’ve stepped away from writing reasons for the characters to be in said place. These are that list of adventure hooks that show up invariably at the beginning of certain modules. Recently also someone I know also mentioned they were having trouble with their own adventure hooks, which prompted me to think on this just a bit. 

So, here’s my postulation: Good Adventurers don’t need adventure hooks. Creative players and referees don’t either. 

Crazy as it may sound, I have the firm belief that an Adventurer both should and will seek adventure. They are snoops and scallywags of the highest order. An adventurer who does not go looking for trouble is not an adventurer, rather they are a reluctant hero, and while that works in fiction, at the table that is going to get old very, very quickly. To that end, the Baggins are not Adventurers, despite having had one or two. A better example from modern cinema of an adventurer is Captain Jack Sparrow, who’s constantly after... something, anything. Indiana Jones is an excellent example for us older folks. I suppose that’s my opinion at the end: that those who claim to perform an action for a living should seek it.

That’s not to say that you can’t have good Characters who require some extraneous motivation. But frankly if I as a referee open a game where you’re in front of a dungeon as a player and you ask me “but what’s my motivaaaatioooon???” I will physically throw something at you. Nobody likes a needy actor.

More so, I feel like making a character should include some base motivations, and I mean that as both foundational and of low moral value: Morg Skulltaker didn’t get that last name by not coveting skulls, and your class’s name is always a great thing to want. A fighter should want to fight, a thief to steal, a wizard arcane power, and a cleric to convert or proselytize. Further, unless your basically playing in an attempt to be a moral paragon (*cough*paladin*cough*), having a vice adds a little human element that I think does Adventurers well for role-play and storytelling. 

I also think a crafty referee can rope any character into heavily armed underground death-trap spelunking and exploration with a little application of ingenuity. Yes, that includes stubborn ones made by players who’s whole character concept is antithetical to the game, such as reclusive home-bodies who suffer agoraphobia and won’t leave their locked home. One must go out for groceries sometime, and sinkholes and meteors swallow highways and strike homes, why not theirs? Still, this may often feel like pulling teeth or bathing a cat- both are a painful process and often leave one feeling exhausted and a little empty when the work is done.

Certainly I don’t think it’s bad idea to have rumors of the dungeon or the adventure or whatnot that players might know, but by no means are they necessary. Especially if you have a mentally tired player or someone who is unfamiliar with the game, or maybe someone who struggles with writing, prefab suggestions and ideas can help. Especially since they’re quite ready (and intentionally designed) to be used right out the box. Still, I’d rather suggested plot hooks act as springboards for my players’ own imaginations rather than railroading them in to a single or multiple prefabricated hooks. 

Incoherent Rambling about Old school play and Death Saves

I was discussing some old school tenets with my brother the other day, when I explained my dilemma with Old School Save vs Death (too harsh) and 5e Death Saving throws (too lenient), and my inability to find a happy medium, my workaround, and the thoughts behind the feelings that have arisen to such. 

My biggest thoughts mostly deal with danger, expectations, and storytelling, and the media we consume in our modern world. Moreso, I think it related heavily to our Videogames we play as well. 

I’m of the opinion that the game itself, and perhaps the entire genre of fantasy gaming, has been hijacked initially by Tolkienic Fantasy and then again afterwards by Blockbuster Videogames and Movies. Televised electronic media is ever prevalent and all consuming, and this in turn has had a heavy hand in the guiding of our fiction, both literary and private. More-so, our games-industry increasingly attempts to deliver a cinematic experience rather than a challenge of skill, and that’s where the crux of my ambiguity lies: I, as a narrativist, want to tell a good tale. But I, as a gamer and referee, wish to challenge my players (and be challenged as a player) fairly and have my skills tested/test the skills of my players. Not that there aren’t outliers to this, Dark Souls, Sekrio, Darkest Dungeon, anything by Altus, and other electronic games pride themselves on their levels of depth and difficulty. But right now I’m running the risk of making a blog commenting on Videogames rather than RPGs, which is what this blog is supposed to be about. 

The roots of the hobby lie not in the games of today, but rather in napoleonic wargaming. A hobby long since given over to Warhammer’s science-fantasy realm and legions of rabid fanboys. Anyone who’s played such a game can certainly attest, all the troops don’t make it home from the board even if you win. Even older videogames returned you to the beginning of the game if you struck out three or more times. A rousing game of Contra or Castlevania should serve as an excellent education in the price of defeat. Brutal, to lose all progress. But back then, it was considered fair. Some still consider it such. 

Couple this with the increasing extravagance of cinema’s and the videogame industry’s fantasy worlds, one where all too often the heroes single handedly trounce monstrously giant opponents, god-like in their might, the audience never doubting for a moment that the heroes would lose, as they slug their way through hundreds of foes. This is intentional: the victory is important, not the journey, or the hundred would-be heroes who have come before. In electronic games, a loss or failure often merely delays the story’s completion, it does not erase it. Falling from a cliff or being ran-through by a demon’s blade is but a trifling setback. This is also intentional: the challenge is not the focus, the story is. 

And this is the scenario we’re accustomed to: that the heroes will win, and that losses will be negligible, only delaying time (which will not be of the essence), and we’ll get a good tale out of it. Not that the danger is a ruse in most all forms of media we take in, but rather the consistent focus doesn’t let us see the deepest of travails, merely the triumphs, and we have become desensitized to total-loss (which death is for characters).

Granted, this is all half-fact and a lot of theorizing and generalizing on my end of things. So frankly I’m talking out my ass about this. I’m not a sociologist or a media analyst. I’m a dude who’s listening to ‘80s deathmetal and painting little plastic monsters while daydreaming about cave-divers with swords. Speculation does not reality make.

Now you may think, “Oh but I have worked hard on this character, spent hours playing them. To lose them to a poor roll is frankly dumb!” And I agree. Poor luck of the die is hardly a good reason to end a burgeoning or advanced career in delving, despite its realism. It makes for an unsatisfying end to the tale, and smacks of the simulationism that Gygax warned against in the AD&D DMG. 

Neither do I think that 5e’s current death saves are fair. Best 3 out of 5 rolls? That eats time, and is there to allow your compatriots to make it to you before the clock runs out. It’s supposed to be the bleed-out of first person shooters where everyone drops their stuff and runs to help. Except only the cleric or designated person with a potion moves. The fighters keep fighting and 5 rounds (two to three, at the fastest) is a leisurely walk in the park at the table. We once had a fighter pinged with Healing Word alternatively by a cleric and bard for ten rounds at the table. We joked he was doing burpees, coming up to attack and then down again. Granted, the ready availability of healing is... another topic for another day. But it is... difficult to die in the most modern edition of the game. Absurdly so. 

My work around (which, admittedly I’m not super happy with either), is to rule it as this: Save vs Death Means Save Vs Death Saves. If a spell would kill a character flat on a failed roll, they instead must roll three Constitution Saving Throws against the DC of the spell/trap, not ten (otherwise merely flip a coin). Best two of three determines their fate. Going to Zero in Combat results in the same, with successful saves indicating your character lives, but with a nasty physical or mental scar that the player must decide upon. That feels fairer than that one-roll death and less padded for those old hats like me who don’t mind if a character dies.

I’m Changing The Sound of the Games I Run

As I’ve driven across my country, an old and perplexing problem has vexed me in ways most sinister:

What are the prevalent “moods” of Dungeons and Dragons? That is to say, what are the general atmospheres/scenes we convey in game for players? 

I know this is likely different per game, as like, the genre shifts per every storyteller, right? 

I’m thinking that for me it’s: 

- Exploration/Open World

- Dungeons/Underground

- Steath/Intrigue

- Combat/Violent Conflict 

- Rest In Civilization/Rest the Wilderness

The reason I’m asking this is because I’m rethinking how I approach soundtracking my own games, and I’m thinking that rather than like, doing it with just a few albums in the background, I should do it via a series of playlists that add to the atmosphere of the world I’m building. Especially since I have so much fantasy music, it’d be easy for me to have a folder on my iPod to play randomized stuff in each category.

Previously I had a separate playlists for like, every possible setting. Taverns, Temples, Dwarven Places, Elven Places, Pie-Eating Contests, Treant golfing tournaments, etc, etc. and I think this is, frankly, a hassle and a half. I largely think this is inspired by/comes from our familiarity with movie soundtracks, where the film is made, then scored, so that the music has arise and fall with the action of the story and narrative and sonic crescendos occur simultaneously. Think of Hitchcock’s use of strings in “Psycho,” or any blockbuster Fantasy’s repeated movements. Now remove that score from that scene you’re thinking of and instead pair those stabbing violins with a joyous wedding vow, or “Imperial March” to ordering a sandwich at a fast food place and awkwardly counting exact change. Doesn’t fit quite right, does it? 

Table top RPGs are live-action in a sense, and a better way to handle this is more akin to video-games, which indeed have iconic music (more on that in a bit), but much more importantly have music that 1) enhances the atmosphere of the scene and 2) can and does change as the scenes change. Think of the first underground level of Mario, when the bright, cheery main theme shifts to those deep bass notes, with the swift skittering of anxiety laden jumbled notes to follow them, and the briefest hint of an unnatural silent pause before repeating. Or the dreaded epic movements inside a castle, lava and certain death around every corner. Think of the difference between the haunting and teeth grinding underground music that plays while avoiding degenerate Falmer in Skyrim, now compare that to the wondrous and airy tunes played while wandering under the ethereal Northern Lights on a wintry mountain. The Witcher’s action music has fantastic, bombastic openings and percussion kicks off at a horse’s pace, and then when left alone in the rain switches to lighter acoustic tones and gentle, lonely lines of string accompaniment; only then it turns to creeping, pacing tones riddled with tension for political intrigue and stealth. 

So we have decent examples of how to score our games, but the dilemma still stands as to with what to score our games? This is... a tricky answer for me. I’ve had a lot of great games soundtracked many different ways, and I have done a lot of games in a modern setting which is suuuuper easy ‘cause you can use modern music. I also love, love, love “modern” music. Not that one couldn’t run a fantasy game set to 1970s punk or 1990s industrial, but I’m looking to make utilitarian lists, things anyone and everyone can pick up and use, and a lot of players find lyrics (especially in a language they understand) distracting. Also death metal and hardcore aren’t for everyone. So, that limits our genres. 

An older Dragon magazine article from the early 2000s wrote on this, and honestly gave some advice that I feel doesn’t stand (“One Winged Angel”? Star Wars? Yuck. Though Uematsu and Williams are geniuses and deserve full credit as such). The problem with that advice is that it relies upon iconic songs. And movie and video game composers are always, always, always trying to create iconic songs. Iconic songs are good, they get stuck in your head. You hum them and sing along with the notes with your friends on car rides. Think of the main theme to the Legend of Zelda games or the Jurassic Park movies. You know them instantly. The music, the beautiful, glorious music is what helps sell the game or show. It works wonders. And it comes with its own associations that are hard pressed to be shaken, and can jar the verisimilitude of the game. So, for me, main themes and anything instantly recognizable are out. Despite my love of them. This is also a two fold problem: I may not immediately recognize every song on this album, but you as a player might. And it is you and your game I am considering here. 

So what and where do we pull our selections from? For me, I tend to lean towards the lesser known tracks of fantasy video games, and towards action and horror movies who’s scores I remember, but get picky with it. I’m not afraid to slice out iconic songs left and right and to only choose a song or two from an album. Also, the lesser known the album, the better. I also nix any song that varies too wildly in sound from the established moods, as such, things like Epic Score tend to be removed as they will start slow and tense and then be a rollicking orchestra of Armageddon prophets by the end of that three-minute track. I also dabble in some dark ambient, especially the stuff from Cryo Chamber. A lot of people are hopped up on Dungeon Synth for their games, and I’m very picky with that genre. A lot of the genre has some retro eighties synth sounds I feel are better kept to cyberpunk games where retrowave would be better suited. I also caution listeners, as I know some underground artists that get lumped by association into that genre (due to its roots in black metal) have hate-culture associations, and there’s no space for Nazi garbage in my hobby. Do a google, know what your buying. 

So we know what we’re using, we know how to soundtrack it, the next step is to do the actual work: you have to listen, actively, to each individual song out of the library of music you have selected and determine which songs go in what playlist. This is the hardest part, as it is time consuming, and for me, I want to be doing something active when I’m listening to music, actively or not. It’s also, for me, very tempting to move that slider to fast-forward and not listen to a track I know I’ve heard a million times before, but if I do that I know I’m gonna miss a chunk of spoken word poetry in the midst of a wonderful acoustic track, or the one moment of action hero guitar in an otherwise tense track of brooding cellos and violas. Don’t. Just listen all the way, choose to keep or chuck it, and if you keep it, know which playlist it has a home in. If you can’t choose a playlist, move to the next song and come back later. 

After likely a few too-many hours’ worth of work, you should have your own playlists set, and be ready to have background music for your adventure up and running.

And now the last question: why? Why do all this awful work when you could just as easily buy one of the dozens of apps for your computer or phone that has ambient music and sounds and all kinds of fun gadgetry that solves all this hard work for you? Well, because 1) I’ve bought this music, I might as well use it, 2) I like making playlists, 3) I think there’s something incredible about music, a kind of sonic indelible ink that tattoos itself into our blood and doesn’t ever let us go, and I know from all the movies and games I cited above that it can enhance a story, and 4) playlists are a one click solution to ambience and I don’t need anymore apps or gadgets in my game, or items cluttering my table/DMing Area. 

The World is Filled With Horrible Cannibal People Also I Am Moving Across My Continent

But why? 

Well largely because, while I like orcs, I want to stay away from them in my games and home brew settings. Because we use them as de-facto villain fodder too often. I’m a big fan of replacing orcs with humans. The general idea being that anytime you replace orcs with humans, players stop and think about what’s going on instead of immediately dashing into action. And players rationalize and talk to humans but just murderhobo orcs. And that makes for boring gameplay, because NPCs and even enemies should have motivations and yes, I think your players should know those so they can act tactically about them. 

So why include horrible cannibal men at all? Well, a two reasons. One is the horror aspect. This could be you, that somewhere deep within us we may cave to this act in desperation, and then find perverse pleasure in such. Donner Party Annual Family Reunion and Barbecue, etc, etc. 

The second is that, while I think having your players question the motivations and actions of villains and monstrous NPCs is good, the genre of fiction the game is based off of, and thus the heart of the game, is Pulp Fantasy. Pulp Fantasy has a lot of swashbuckling action and fights, and the game itself mechanically comes from war-games. Combat is, and should be, an inevitability. I really don’t think PCs should be able to talk their way out of everything; that’s lame. Hell, a whole gamer type is known as “The Buttkicker”. So obviously I want villains who are morally bankrupt and my players won’t think twice about engaging, as well as likely to start a rumble due to hunger, perverse desire, or whatever other reason they have to eat people.

***

So I’m gonna take a moment to mention to all three of you that read this that I’m moving across country, and across a whole continent as a result, from the South East to the far North West. It’s gonna be a long drive, and hopefully I’ll be able to write a good bit as I drive and ride across. This is part of why I’ve been quieter than usual and also why I may get quiet again as I transition into a new-old job, which should prove interesting.