PLANET ALGOL

[chapter 2]

noreply@blogger.com (Blair) — Thu, 11 Apr 2019 05:17:00 +0000

The children’s names were Abdan and Mershi. Preteens, traumatized. Everyone helped, but Mazi turned out to be surprisingly good with them. Jase started teaching them how to read and the Ambassador would knit them garments while being petted by them. Mazi took all of their gear out of their quarters and it was remade into a room for the kids.

But they had been raised as slaves, outside of civilized humanspace. All they knew was being used cruelly. That’s why Mazi was good with them, despite being scarred and brutal; Mazi knew what it was like to have to share air with broken wrecks. Mazi could tell when they wanted to eat, or cuddle with the Ambassador, or needed to be alone.

The children, with the way they grew up, they couldn’t even imagine an angel, To them the Ambassador was a big softpet. The luckiest child slaves got a hand-me-down or cast-offt; they were the currency of their rudimentary economy. The ambassador knitted, and piece by piece replaced the oversize garments that the crew gave them to replace the filthy rags they had been wearing.

Mershi knew some words and letters, Abdan was completly illiterate. Jase did their best to teach them. Wer thought that, considering Jase’s temperment, they would have gotten along, but after a brief period of awkwardly getting to know each other Wer could have sworn that the children had began getting the better of and taking advantage of Jase. Wer shrugged, lit a cigarette.

Completely unsurprisingly Jase was the only one that had any media that was both appropriate and that they found engaging. For games night cards, dice and Panzerkraft was replaced with children’s games that Jase printed out from an entertainment archive on his server. Snakes, ladder, micetraps, dice under plastic domes. It was actually a relief playing the completely luck based boardgames after the repeated farce of the Ambassador pretending that they couldn’t win at every hand of poker.; their performance had been flawless, leaving no one feeling condescended, but it was still an insult to their intelligences when they thought about it afterwards.

Wer had been expecting past-date MREs. Instead it was a durafoam case of fresh fish sealed in transparent foil packets. They were unpacking the pallet of supplies after the initial business with the children had been taken care of.

“These say ‘Product of Hades’ on them. Assuming that nobody would sell counterfeit Hades raised fish on Hades, how infested and polluted do you think these are?”

“They can’t be any worse than these blank label cigarettes that you’re going to suck down. Besides, I’ve seen you smoke fucking fast Wer, while you were integrated with the fucking helm. You used to call yourself the human garbage can.”

“That time was an emergency Mazi, I’m way too old for fast anymore. Anyways, I’m not worried about myself but the Ambassador doesn’t smoke, Jase doesn’t smoke, the kids don’t...” Wer stopped and looked at Mazi.

“Both of them Wer. Slaves get by with whatever they can.”

“Well, I’m not going to take away whatever small pleasure they have after the hell their lives have been.”

Wer continued digging through the pallet. “Anyways, if you knew that then you damn well have better bought extra cigarettes as well.”

Jase figured out how to make fish sticks. It was the only thing the kids liked, everyone else resigned themselves to fish sticks for every meal. The Ambassador gave all of the fruit from the plants they kept in their cabin to the children, after peeling and cutting them them up. Wer had seen the signs of malnutrition and had talked to them about it. The Ambassador did a convincing performance of pretending that they hadn’t already thought about it.

One time Wer found Jase watching recordings of the encounter with the grown up ship at Hades. Wer watched for several minutes as Jase changed camera, speed, rewound, repeated. Wer sparked a cigarette. “what are you looking for Jase?”

“I feel like I’m missing something.”

Wer sighed. You miss everything with the grown ups, that’s why they’re gods.

“Okay Jase, let me know if you find anything you think is important.”

Mazi had slung a hammock in the hold. Snorted when Wer asked if they were okay bunking there.

Wer shrugged, “I still have to ask. I know your ass is made out of granite but I gotta do due diligence. Anyways, do you think we can drop the kids off at Gilead?”

“An illegal colony of a primitivist cult outside of civilization? Maybe I should have left them at Hades instead Wer.”

“Fuck off Mazi. They’re some sort of peace church, maybe they’re not that crazy. Maybe the kids are better off far away from civilization, the cops and the corps, at least out there they might have some sort of freedom.”

“Wer, I’ve been through bad shit, you fucking know that. And I went through it with a bunch of others, and most of them didn’t make it. I’m telling you those kids need real help.”

“It’s an isolated colony Mazi, even if they are a primitivist cult, they still might have good mental health care. How about we check it out the colony and then we can talk? We’re still getting there well before the rendezvous. Always arrive early. I get it, you did the right thing and you want to follow it through. I support it. I just don’t know if the kids are going to be that safe with us.”

“We check out the colony Wer. Any bad vibes, we take them somewhere better.”

Wer was dreaming. The ship was dark, quiet. He got up from his bunk. His door was open. Walking down the corridor, he could see dim flickering light from the bridge.

One of the children was there, standing before a console flickering with white noise. The child put their hand out, palm first, and pressed it against, through and into the console display.

Wer tried, couldn’t move. Legs unresponsive, body slow, clumsy, anaesthetized.

The child leaned back, forearm immersed in the console. The white noise spreading up out and around the console.

Slow the child turned, their body rubbery, and Wer was frozen staring into eyes full of white noise, getting larger, pulling them forward....

Gilead was a young planet. Larger than Earth, but with a less dense crust. It still had a magnetosphere. Liquid water. Life, primitive plants and invertebrates, simple enough to both crudely compatible with human biochemistry without significant issues.

The Vespers were some variety of breakaway heretic Catholic sect: egalitarian, communal, pacifist, repudiating technology that they felt was detrimental to the soul. Wer had no idea when the last time a ship had been in the system. They had no communication facilities so the transit from the gravity wall was deaf.

“Those are fucking gibbets Wer. Wheels. Cages. This is fucking medieval shit Wer.”

“I see the bodies Mazi. I see the smoke and I see the people.” Wer lowered the binoculars, “We keep the kids with us until we find someplace good.”

Mazi nodded. Looked through their binoculars at the village. “This looks really fucking ugly.”

“You want to find out what happened?”

Mazi snorted, look at Wer, raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, let’s get back up and stay in offdirt until the meetup.”

It was better part of a week before the meet. The crew started getting tense again. Everyone had been looking forward to time on actual habitable pleasant planet. From orbit running slow detail scans it looked like whatever had happened had happened in everywhere. They found a couple of battlefields strew with bodies. The agricultural fields looked wrong, bruised and stained.

Wer heard a knock at the door to their cabin. Sighed, took a deep drag off of the spliff. “Come in.”

Jase entered, carrying a dataslab, shut the door.

“What’s this about Jase?”

Jae held up the ‘slab. There was a piece of paper on it, “Always assume that someone is listening”

Wer nodded.

Jase removes the piece of paper, shows the slab display

It’s a video, paused. Half of the display is a video capture of the bridge during the encounter with the ship at Hades. The other half is a composite of external cameras. The blobs. The receding ship-thing in one square.

Jase points at the Ambassador, zooms in on their hands, knitting. Starts the video.

The needles flashe. The audio was off but Wer imagines the clicking.

The video runs until Mazi turns and obviously glares at the ambassador. The ambassador stops knitting.

Jase rewinds the video. Plays it again, slower.

Wer leans forward, watching. The video runs until the knitting stops.

Jase plays it again, slower. And then again, even slower.

Halfway through the playback Wer nods, holds out his hand for the piece of paper, writes on it, holds it up.

“Show Mazi”

[chapter 1]

noreply@blogger.com (Blair) — Wed, 10 Apr 2019 11:13:00 +0000

The cache wasn’t there.

Wer swore. Slapped the console. Lit a smoke. “Keep scanning. A fast one running long and get the computer to start a detail sweep.”

“If it’s not there we’re gonna be out a lot of money?”

“If it’s not there we get a refund for them fucking it up. If it’s just that the transponder is down, we’re gonna get a fucking discount next time for our time that they wasted. Start running a timer.”

“What if they didn’t screw up? Out here anyone could have taken it.”

“Who the fuck is going to be out here Jase?” snorted Mazi, “Out in a deep gap?”

The computer beeped.

They all stared at the ship? thing? god? on their consoles. Wer let out a long breath. “A grown up?”

Mazi barked “Are you shitting me?”

“Why is a grown up out here?”

Wer replied “To take away our toys before we got up to any trouble. That’s not a grown up. It’s gotta be a remote of some sort.”

“Is there a fucking difference for us monkeys?” snorted Mazi.

“Even if it’s a drone” murmured Jase, “it’s creeping me out.”

“You should be thrilled,” Wer sardonically replied, “Think about how lucky you are. How many humans ever get to see anything of the grown ups? We should all buy lottery tickets at the next big hab we hit.”

Mazi snorted. “Yeah, well we still need fuel.”

“Hades is close enough.”

“FUCK Hades, are you crazy? That place is a shithole. A BAD shithole. It’s a fucking zoo.”

“They need commerce. We get what we need, we stay out of trouble, and we get out.”

“Hades IS trouble. That’s where pirates go.”

“They’re not gonna jump us at a station. It’s bad for business. For Hades and pirates.”

“We still gotta get from and to the gravity wall. They could jump us any time.”

“Again, that’s bad for business. Hades is desperate for commerce.”

“Wouldn’t Hades get more from the pirates looting us than from us than us resupplying?” interjected Jase.

“It’s the risk factor Jase, safe money from commerce.” replied Wer, “Plus”, pointedly looking at Mazi, “we don’t even know if there are any pirates there.”

“Don’t you always say to always assume pirates are there?” retorted Mazi.

Wer rubbed his eyes. “Okay, check-and-mate Mazi, you got me. I don’t like it any more than you do, but this whole thing was a risk from the get go. We’re just going to have to keep our eyes open and not fuck up. Like any other risky job.”

Lighting a cigarette Wer got up out of the console. “Jase, get us on a vector away from that thing. Let’s take a day, keep scanning for the cache, and work out plan. If either of you can think of anything better than Hades that doesn’t involves having to run slow and cold let me know, I’m going to go tell everyone.”

At the door he paused. “Always assume that someone is listening.”

The Ambassador was knitting. Not even glancing at what they were doing as they looked at Wer with those deep calm wise eyes.

The Jesus eyes, the silky angel down on their skin, the unnatural grace. When the babysitters arrived, when Homo sapiens learned that they were not alone in the universe, and not only that but that the it was manged by gods billion of years old who had decided that enough was enough and the baby might fall out of the cradle or choke on the toys it had made, the fury was widespread when what met us was an Australopith. Offended beyond belief.

That anger never lasted once someone had seen the videos.

The Ambassador’s voice clicked and sang in a countermelody to their knitting “I see a friend was waiting. They appear to be of the Seventh Wind. I’m sorry about the considerable inconvenience.”

Wer nodded. Sighed. Took a deep drag on his cigarette. Tried to ignore his mind screaming at him to question the Ambassador. Tried not to think about the Seventh Wind Ship reading his mind.

“Do you think there’s any chance that if we ask nicely we can get our fuel back?”

The Ambassador did Wer the courtesy of appearing to be deep in thought for several beats, the knitting becoming laconic, before replying.

“We’re not in any immediate danger are we? I understand there is a place of resupply available, albeit one of dubious character, Hades I believe?” It was that inhuman angelic grace that made whatever an Ambassador say not sound condescending, “From their perspective, if Hades wasn’t within reach with our remaining fuel supply, us having to travel at slowdrive in sleepfreeze for a few decades wouldn’t even register as an inconvenience to them.”

Despite himself Wer deadpanned “Parents just don’t understand.” Cursed at himself inside. Is it listening to us? Would it even bother, or need to?

The Ambassador smiled. “If they deigned to think about it I’m sure they’d consider it to be a valuable life lesson.”

“Then I’m not going to chance any further education by trying to talk to it.”

Mazi glared at the console. “Why is it that fucking thing still there?”

“Maybe it’s doing something?” Jase replied as they continued the calculations for Hades, “It was just a coincidence, it had something to do here.”

“That’s a big fucking coincidence with how much empty room there is out here.”

“Well, we don’t have any idea how far or fast their sensors can be or what they can see. It could have just walked a few steps to pick up a piece of litter.”

“I think it’s there just so it has wave it’s finger at us.” Mazi raised a hand and gave the console the finger. “Smug fuckers, fuck them.”

Everyone was gunned up when the ship bored back into realspace at the gravity wall. Holsters on belts, shotguns and machetes stowed in bins next to the staions. Except the Ambassador, although they graciously allowed a couple of nonlethal devices and a boarding shield to be stowed in their quarters. Mazi was wearing a few pieces of body armor and carried a mean looking combined assault weapon, occasionally toggling the bayonet repeatedly until Wer sighed and asked them to please knock it off.

Mazi had argued for booby-trapping the airlocks. Jase pointed out that it wouldn’t safe if there was an emergency. Wer shut it down, “We’re going to have to dock anyways. I don’t want to be fucking around disarming booby-traps, putting them back in and then disarming them again. That’s how accidents happen.”

Hades hung there, a massive bloated glowering brown dwarf surrounded by a few rogue planets, rocks and chunks accumulated over the past billions of years since it formed.

Not worthless rocks and chunks. There were minerals, chemicals, strange matter deposits. Not enough for a colony or a corporate venture but enough to attract small time independents, and then, this far out, the predators that take advantage of opportunities in the far reaches.

“Ambassador, is that our Seventh Wind friends again?”

“I’m afraid I don’t recognize that. My apologies, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Mazi barked “What the fuck is it sending over?”

Swirling block blobs closed the gap between the two ships.

Wer repeatedly hailed the kilometers-long amorphous mass. Silence.

The tumbling black blobs, dust fragments in comparison to their mother body, swirled around The Old Wolfe. Occasionally one of them briefly darting close.

Even Mazi didn’t discuss arming any of the weapon systems. Everyone stared at the consoles.

At one point Mazi glared at the Ambassador. The Ambassador apologetically smiled, nodded, and ceased knitting.

After several long minutes the blobs peeled off and rejoined the receding mass.

“What just happened?” whispered Jase.

The hours spent om transit to Hades Station were quiet and tense. They stared at consoles, paced around the ship, checked weapons, ate in silence.

No one was happy about going to Hades, but they had to refuel here or hang a bunch of popsicle years. And now that they were here they didn’t have enough left to do that.

Wer handed the station liason a hardcase, “For your inconvenience. Thanks for letting us resupply here.” The liason nodded and placed it on the counter, undid the latches.

A bundle of bills. Cigarette packs. Glass bottles in translucent foam cylinders. Foil-backed plastic envelopes of marijuana, cocaine, pills. Make them happy, hope they keep the scavengers and cutthroats at bay. If they possess any authority.

Wer had handed out small packs of cheap cigarettes to everyone who would be going stationside.

Jase protested, “But I don’t smoke.”

“Open one of the packs now. Someone wants a smoke give them one. Give someone a pack if you want anything from them.”

“Do you see that?” hissed Mazi.

“Don’t stare” Wer hissed back, “of course I see that.”

“Those are slaves Wer. They have kids refuelling our ship.”

“I don’t like it anymore than you do.”

“You know I served on Mercury Wer. You know what happened there.”

“We’re not going to be buying any slaves. We came here because we had no choice.”

“Where’s the fucking grown ups now?”

Wer rubbed his eyes. “Instead of getting pissed off, can I give you a job and keep you busy? We might be able to find some good stuff here, there’s gotta be a bunch of black market shit available.”

“Don’t you want us to stick together?”

“No one is going to fuck with you. You know how to stay out of trouble and nobody is going to rip you off either. Buy anything that we can use, just don’t go gun crazy. Food, booze, smokes too. Let’s resupply.” Wer handed Mazi a crumpled plastic envelope. “I know you can take care of it faster than if we all go, lets get out of here as soon as we can.”

Wer looked at the two children. Looked at the pallet of shrink-wrapped boxes; at the hole cut in the side of two of the boxes; and then settled his gaze on Mazi.

“I take it that if we ever need to, that we won’t be able to go back to Hades?”

“You said that we weren’t going to be buying any slaves.”

“We’re damn lucky that nobody missed them before we made bore. Someone is going to be very pissed off at us.”

Wer sighed and smiled at the children staring at him and leaned against the pallet. “I hope that you’re going to be able to swear less” he said as he pulled out a cigarette, “because you’re going to be looking after these two until we can drop them off somewhere safe.”

I believe women. I believe Mandy Morbid. Her abuser cannot debate, intimidate, or manipulate me into silence. There is no place for abusers among us. #AbuseIsNotAGame #OSR

noreply@blogger.com (Blair) — Thu, 14 Feb 2019 07:13:00 +0000

I believe women. I believe Mandy Morbid. Her abuser cannot debate, intimidate, or manipulate me into silence. There is no place for abusers among us. #AbuseIsNotAGame #OSR

Testing the Generators from a Mothership thing I'm working on

noreply@blogger.com (Blair) — Thu, 14 Feb 2019 06:52:00 +0000

THE CORPORATE SUPERVISOR
Over-their-head schlub. Cheap ugly suit; brown, stained loafers Bumbling; sweaty; incompetent. Has a bottle of whiskey in their slovenly over-the-shoulder attache. INSTINCT 15//Will just take off at the first sign of serious trouble. SKILLS Driving, Piloting

THE SECURITY MANAGER
Almost retired. Sloppily dressed; sighs a lot; has a bad knee; easy-going. INSTINCT 40//Nothing out of the ordinary going on here.

THE SECURITY DETAIL
"Loss Prevention Security", Visored Motorcycle Helmets and Leather, SMGs and Disposable Restraints

THE SCAVENGER GANG
"The Dead Team", S&M attire, Thrown Sharp Things and Martial Arts; driving Tanks and APCs; Led by a Sexy, Oiled-Up Saxophonist; Protectors from Alien Shit

Regarding Zak II

noreply@blogger.com (Blair) — Thu, 14 Feb 2019 01:10:00 +0000

In light of these recent developments, and subsequent introspection, I feel like I really owe an apology to Johnstone Metzger

Coming from a background in the punk scene, I have become used to the idea of having two friends that don't get along, or hate each other, and having to not get involved.

Sometimes, letting that be seems to be part of existing in a community.

And I let that be my guide for dealing with the horrible way that Zak treated Johnstone.

Johnstone is someone that introduced me to Red Box Vancouver and playing pick-up games in public with an open table, and it was a very enriching experience.

Johnstone is also a very creative, intelligent and all-around wonderful person.

I should have stood up for him more, instead of letting "politics be politics". He was someone, that I knew in real life, that was kind and generous, and Zak used him as one of his punching bags. And I didn't do more about it that some comments in his defense.

I failed Johnstone, I felt bad about it when it was happening in the past, and I feel awful about it now.

To some degree I was afraid of Zak turning on me if I did more.

I should have done more re Paolo Greco, and Patrick Stuart, and Evlyn Moreau as well.

But Johnstone was a real-life friend of mine, and I failed at our friendship in not vigorously standing up and pushing back against Zak's persecutive horseshit.

I'm sorry.

[Disclosure: This post was previously posted on my Google Plus account yesterday. For the purpose of taking full responsibility for my inaction, I've decided to share it here as well. Commenting will be turned off for this post.]

SCI-FI RPG CHARACTER SHIRT TABLE

noreply@blogger.com (Blair) — Tue, 12 Feb 2019 15:11:00 +0000

A d20 TABLE FOR WHAT SHIRT YOUR TRAVELLER/MOTHERSHIP/THOUSAND SUNS PC STARTS WITH

1. "Venus is For Lovers".
2. A Hawaiian shirt, but with cartoon asteroids and rocketships on it.
3. Schematic of a a pulse rifle.
4. "I don't have time to breath" with a graphic of a depleted 02 meter.
5. "Don't ask me how the Jump Drive works... ...even the inventors don't know"
6. Mock-distressed Rolling Stones Tongue logo.
7. "WHO FARTED?!?!"
8. "I'M WITH STUPID" with a graphic of an arrow pointing upwards.
9. Like a tuxedo-graphic shirt but the graphic of the chest panel of a Vaccsuit.
10. "I'M WITH STUPID" with a cheap transfer graphic of the ship's Captain.
11. "In Space Everyone Can Hear You Jack-Off"
12. Playboy Bunny in a Bubble Helmet.
13. "ACAB", "All Captains Are Beautiful".
14. "Enjoy Crack" in the Coca-Cola logo.
15. "Alpha Bullshit".
16. Picture of a revolver pointing at the viewer, "We Don't Call Shipboard Security"; backprint "I Shot First"
17. Picture of the Milky Way Galaxy, "I Have No Fucking Idea Where You Are".
18. Tom of Finland style artywork of muscular, well endowed men wearing assorted Vaccsuit components.
19. All-over Pot-Leaf Print polyester button-up shirt.
20. Trojan Records Helmet logo with "Skinhead Moonstomp" caption in Rasta-colours

Regarding Zak

noreply@blogger.com (Blair) — Tue, 12 Feb 2019 03:30:00 +0000

https://www.facebook.com/amandapatricianagy/posts/10215845527064252

I hope that Zak engages with some sort of accountability process, takes responsibility for his actions, and does whatever is necessary to allow some sort of healing for the women he hurt.

But that's not what is really important. What's important is that we listen to Mandy, Jennifer, ~~and~~ Hannah, [EDIT:] and Vivka; that we believe them; and we do whatever we can so that they can heal and recover from this abuse.

I hope that Zak takes responsibility and gets the help that he needs, but going forward from this...

Monster - MEN, FIGHTING

noreply@blogger.com (Blair) — Mon, 12 Jan 2015 22:56:00 +0000

# Appearing: 1-8(1-20)
Armor Class: 7
Movement: 120(40)
Hit Dice: 1+1
Attacks: 2 fists 1-4/1-4 or improvised missile 1-4
Special: +4 on saves versus Fear; regenerate 1 hp/turn; wrestling.
Intelligence: Low-Average
Alignment: Neutral
Size: M
Morale: 11
Treat as: Fighter 1

The male counterpart to the Amazons, Fighting Men are a human subspecies with a single masculine gender (they reproduce exactly as you would imagine).
Fighting men are burly, generally hairy, and usually wear sandals or fur boots with a leather loincloth and some sort of leather and metal harness.
They love fighting, and are quick to start swinging their fists. They have a tough, leathery hide and are capable of crushing blows with their massive calloused fists. When (and only when) they are unable to reach an opparent they can improvise a missile weapon from any reasonable object with the range of a thrown spear.
They get +2/+10% on any rolls involving wrestling, grappling, unarmed tripping, breaking objects, etc.

Oldschool Conversion of 4e D&D - The Nemesis

noreply@blogger.com (Blair) — Thu, 31 Jul 2014 07:13:00 +0000

I whipped up an oldschool D&D conversion of the 4e Avenger. No flavour text, but Google and all.

THE NEMESIS (Fighter Subclass)
Requirements: Lawful Alignment; Intelligence and Wisdom of 13, Dexterity of 15
Prime Requisite: Intelligence and Wisdom 15 or greater, +10% experience points
Weapons: All melee, crossbow, javelin and sling.
Armor: No armor or shield
Experience Points: As Paladin
Hit Points: As Fighter
Benefits:
Effective Armor Class as a Monk of the same level.
+1 on all saving throws.
At 3rd level gain the ability to turn and affect undead etc. as a Cleric two levels lower.
Find Traps, Move Silently, Hide in Shadows, Hear Noise and Climb Walls as a Thief of the same level.
Nemesis Oath:
-Once per combat you may select one enemy within 50' to be subject to your Nemesis Oath.
-If the enemy is slain or reduced to 0 hit points you may select another enemy to apply Nemesis Oath upon.
-If you are in melee range of the subject of your Nemesis Oath, and they are the only enemy adjacent to you, you gain a +4 to all melee attack rolls against them.
-If the subject of your Nemesis Oath willingly moves away from you, you gain +2 damage on all attacks against them until the end of your next turn.
-Once per combat you may allow one ally who is within 50' of you to make an attack with +4 on the to hit roll against the subject of your Nemesis Oath. This ability does not refresh if the subject of your Nemesis Oath is killed or reduced to 0 hit points.

Someone Hook Zak S. up with a copy of Mesopotamia & Mazes and Minotaurs has Awesome Random Tables

noreply@blogger.com (Blair) — Wed, 10 Apr 2013 02:11:00 +0000

a) Zak S. d&d pornstar doesn't believe anyone has written an excellent adventure, I consider Ancient Kingdoms: Mesopotamia to prove him wrong... ...I'm not going to give him my copy, but maybe someone, maybe someone froggy, would...

b) The revised edition of Mazes and Minotaurs has some pretty awesome randon tables for islands, temples and cities. Well worth checking out.

Otda'Btatle - Petty Toad-Demon-God of Battle

noreply@blogger.com (Blair) — Fri, 22 Mar 2013 01:08:00 +0000

Name: Otda'Btatle, Petty Toad-Demon-God of Battle
Symbol: A grinning toad's face with the horns of a ram
Alignment: Chaotic (evil)
Movement: 120'(40)', swim 120'(40')
Armor Class: -2
Hit Points (Hit Dice): 128 (16)
Attacks: 2 kicks/punches or ram
Damage: 3-18/3-18 or 4-24
Save: Fighter 16
Morale: 11
Hoard Class: you figure it out Gorgonmilk
XP: ditto

Otda'Btatle, rumoured to be a Hezrou demon who became mighty through constant, gruelling combat, it the Petty Toad-Demon-God of Battle, worshipped by berserk and martially minded batrachian beings such a Ranine, Batrachians, and Tsathar. It stands 8 feet tall, bears a bear of ram-like horns on it's head, wears a spiked black harness, armbands, and kneepads, and it's mottled green-and-tan skin is covered with lurid pustules, buboes, sores and rashes.

Otda'Btatle is a Demon, is only damaged by magical weaponry, and takes half damage from cold, electricity, fire and gas. It can teleport without error, cause darkness in a 15' radius, gate in a Type II Demon with a 90% chance of success, Cause Fear (as a wand), levitate (as a 16th-level magic-user), detect invisible objects, and telekinesis 600 lbs. of weight.

Otda'Btatle prefers to punch and kick opponents, but can ram opponents if it has 40 feet to charge at them, at +4 to hit, and if it strikes the target must make an open door roll or be flung 10-60 feet backwards. If they strike and obstacle they will take 1-6 points of damage for every 10 feet of trajectory remaining.

Those struck by Otda'Btatle must make a saving throw versus poison or contract a disgusting skin ailment that covers the victim in livid acne and rashes, and reduces their charisma by 1-4 points until the ailment is cured.

Otda'Btatle will always aid chaotic or evil frog or toad beings in battle, for all other beings a 2d6 roll determined it's reaction:

2 - Otda'Btatle goes into a berserk frenzy and attacks, gaining +2 on all attack and damage rolls, and it's morale becomes 12

3-5 - Otda'Btatale attacks

6-8 - Otda'Btatle attacks and devours one beings before teleporting away

9-11 - Otda'Btatle demands an offering of one sentient being to devour; if this offer is declined it attacks. If the offering pleases Otda'Btatle it may it may be amenable to bargaining to perform a service, ones involving slaughter preferred, in exchange for more victims.

12 - Otda'Btatle loom, glares, and croaks balefully for 1-6 rounds; if an offering is provided it will be open to further negotiations as above.

AD&D-derived Dexterity-based "Surprise Save (d8)"

noreply@blogger.com (Blair) — Wed, 27 Feb 2013 05:54:00 +0000

In 1st ed. AD&D there's the Reaction/attacking Adjustment awarded for the highest (and lowest) 3 scores. This provides a modifier to missile attack rolls and also adjusts how many segments the character is surprised for.

The cool thing about this is that with this adjustment high dexterity characters could be surprised for zer oor less segments, and therefore not be surprised.

Now, if you don't use surprise segments, but you like the mechanic of high dexterity characters' pantherish reflexes allowing them to avoid surprise, what you can do when the d6 are thrown and the party is surprised is subtract the characters' dexterity bonus from the monster side initiative roll, and if that sum of that operation is equal to or less than the party's surprise roll, then the character isn't surprised.

Or you could just roll a d8 "Surprise Save", that I crunched the numbers for using the AD&D guidelines, and ignoring weird AD&D corner case where a monster isn't surprised because the party is more surprised, and got this:
Dexterity Missile Attack Modifier - d8 save to not be Surprised
+1 - 1/d8
+2 - 3/d8
+3 - 5/d8

You can streamline the process by having the DM or one of the players make the Surprise Save for the high-dex members of the party.

The OD&D Reprints? Brave Halfling... make us a dang box for them!

noreply@blogger.com (Blair) — Wed, 27 Feb 2013 03:22:00 +0000

The only reason I never nabbed the Brave Halfling lurid D&D game boxes was that they weren't digest sized.

With the upcoming re-release of OD&D in a gigantic, hideous box, this is a perfect opportunity for Brave Halfling to benefit from Wizards' mistake!

Oldschool Conversion of Newschool : Shadowdancer Prestige Class for Thieves

noreply@blogger.com (Blair) — Sun, 17 Feb 2013 01:30:00 +0000

When a thief has enough experience points to attain 8th level they can choose to prestige class into Shadowdancer; they lose any progression past 7th level thief abilities in backstabbing, climb, pick locks, and remove traps; they do not gain the ability to use scrolls; and they lose any future stronghold or follower benefits. They keep the same hit dice, attacks and saving throws, and gain the following benefits at the following levels (as per the 3E Shadowdancer Prestige Class):

8th level - Hide in Plain Sight
9th level - Infravision
10th level - Shadow Illusion, Summon Shadow
11th level - Shadow Jump
12th level - Defensive Roll
14th level - Slippery Mind

Prerequisite: When a seventh level thief has gained enough experience points to advance to 8th level, and they wish to become a Shadowdancer, they must unabashedly perform The Dance of Shadows for the other players' and the DM's entertainment in order to qualify for this class.

Or, if your game uses them, the character must blow a non-weapon proficiency or skill on Dancing.

This is my Perfect Underdark...

noreply@blogger.com (Blair) — Sat, 16 Feb 2013 22:50:00 +0000

False Machine

This cat's vision of the undeworld is pretty much perfect; I want to play in his game.

Reading his entries had me thinking about the vast subterranean vaults of pulp fantasy as the megadungeon, which led to me thinking of the underworld as a wilderness.

If you have a dungeon/underworld complex that spans the tens of thousands of feet, and you use the snails-pace oldschool D&D underground travel rates, you end up in a situation where it takes ~1 day of travel to cover ~1 mile.

Suddenly bringing food and water is even more important.

I love the idea of a megadungeon composed of a complex of miles-spanning caverns and tunnels, connecting various dungeon complexes.

Journey to the Center of the Earth; Descent into the Depth of the Earth; The Descent (novel); mega-spelunking. Caches. Base camps.

The Warlord (Fighter Subclass)

noreply@blogger.com (Blair) — Fri, 25 Jan 2013 08:09:00 +0000

Requirements: Intelligence and Charisma 13+, Strength 9+; a Warlord with 15+ in all three scores gains a +10% bonus to all earned experience points.
Experience Points, Hit Points, Combat and Saving Throws: As a Cleric.
Weapon and Armor Restrictions: None.

Special Abilities:

All special abilities require the Warlord speaking or shouting, and for the affected party to be with 60 feet of the Warlord; to have an Intelligence of 3+; and to be able to clearly understand the Warlord's communications. A Warlord is unable to use any of their special abilities if they are stunned, unconscious, paralyzed, or otherwise unable to clearly communicate with the subject(s).

Diplomacy & Leadership: +1(2d6)/+10% on all Reaction, Loyalty, Morale and similar checks.

Inspiring Word: Twice per melee/encounter, but only once per round, an ally gains 1d6 temporary hit points for the duration of the melee/encounter. The amount of temporary hit points gained can not exceed the different between the subject's current and maximum hit points. At 11th level the Warlord can use Inspiring Word 3 times per melee.

Auras: A Warlord of second or higher level is able to project an aura that affects themselves and all allies within range. Only one aura can affect a subject at a time. As the Warlord gains levels the effect of the auras increase.

Level - Auras Known/Bonus
1 - 0/0
2 - 1/+1
3 - 1/+1
4 - 1/+1
5 - 2/+1
6 - 2/+1
7 - 2/+2
8 - 2/+2
9 - 3/+2
10 - 3/+2
11 - 3/+2
12 - 3/+2
13 - 3/+2
14 - 4/+3
15 - 4/+3
16 - 4/+3
17 - 4/+3
18 - 4/+3
19 - 4/+3
20 - 5/+4

Auras:

Motivate Ardor : The ally gains the bonus to all weapon and unrmed damage rolls.
Motivate Attack: The ally gains the bonus to all melee attack rolls.
Motivate Care: The ally gains the bonus to armor class.
Resilient Troops: The ally gains the bonus to all saving throws.
Steady Hand: The ally gains the bonus to all ranged attacks.

Grand Urgency: Starting at fourth level, once per day, the Warlord can grant, to any or all allies within range, an additional move of up to half their normal movement rate. A subject can only be effected by one Grant Urgency per round. As the Warlord gains levels they are able to Grant Urgency multiple times per day as follows:

Level - Grant Urgency/per Day
1 - 0
2 - 0
3 - 0
4 - 1
5 - 1
6 - 1
7 - 1
8 - 2
9 - 2
10 - 2
11 - 2
12 - 3
13 - 3
14 - 3
15 - 3
16 - 4
17 - 4
18 - 4
19 - 4
20 - 4

ALSO: POST YOUR TRANS- EDITION OLDSCHOOL CONVERSIONS!

How Would You Do a Bloodsport-style Scenario in Oldschool D&D?

noreply@blogger.com (Blair) — Sun, 20 Jan 2013 00:05:00 +0000

I just watched Bloodsport, and I enjoyed it so much I want to do a Bloodsport-inspired scenario.

This is actually something that could be pretty cool under the Flailsnails paradigm.

Here's my current thoughts

- Is it going to be more like Mortal Combat, with the supernatural aspects of D&D, or a "Martial Class Only", no spells, no magic items, sort of thing?

- This screams for some sort of combat maneuver system. Ideally I'd cherry pick from a bunch of simple options and format/present them as a quick cheat sheet.

- Would NPC antagonists have abilities that PC don't have access to? i.e. a sumo wrestler with special fat-belly attack abilities?

- Armor or no armor?

- Bloodsport soundtrack music would be a must. KUMITE! KUMITE! KUMITE!

Trans-edition Oldschool Conversion: Serpent Anathema

noreply@blogger.com (Blair) — Thu, 17 Jan 2013 08:54:00 +0000

Armor Class: 0

Move: 150' (50'), climb 90' (30'), swim 90' (30')

Hit Dice: 22

Attacks: Claws for 1-8/1-8 or giant scimitar for 2-16, plus bite for 1-10+poison

Special: Poison; constrict 1-8; +3 or better magic weapons to hit; regenerate 3 hit points per round; spells; 60% magic resistance; speak with any snake or snake-like monster; become a swarm of poisonous snakes at will

Intelligence: Godlike

Alignment: Chaotic evil

Size: Huge

Spells: 3/day - cause fear, darkness, detect poison, entangle, haste, neutralize poison, polymorph other, snake charm, sticks to snakes, suggestion

Serpent Anathema are worshipped as avatars of their loathsome gods by serpentine races such as Inphidians and Ophidians. They resemble a gigantic snake 20-30 feet long, with a humanoid torso and arms, and possessing a mass of six long-necked snakes instead of a head. An opponent bitten by a Serpent Anathema must save versus poison or die; those that survive will be constricted by one of the snake heads for 1-8 points of damage per round. As long as all six heads are not constricting victims the Serpent Anathema can continue to make bite attacks.

ALSO:

POST YOUR TRANS-EDITION OLDSCHOOL CONVERSIONS!

Ape, Giant Carnivorous & Post Your Oldschool Conversions

noreply@blogger.com (Blair) — Wed, 16 Jan 2013 02:52:00 +0000

Armor Class: 6
Move: 150 (50), climb 150' (50)
Hit Dice: 10
Attacks: 1-10/1-10/3-18
Special: Hurl rock 100' for 2-24; grab and hurl
Intelligence: Low (upper)
Alignment: Neutral
Size: Huge

Grab and hurl: If a Giant Carnivorous Ape hits strikes a man-sized opponent with both hands they will be lifted up and hurled next round, as a rock, inflicting 3-18 points of damage to the target and the projectile.

I can't believe those guy's didn't think of that...

EDIT:
Post your conversions of post-oldschool D&D monsters!

The benefits of obsessing over pulp fantasy...

noreply@blogger.com (Blair) — Wed, 07 Nov 2012 02:43:00 +0000

. . . getting 97% on an anthropology term paper which was basically about different species of cavemen killing and eating each other.

3 & 1/12 years until I have a life again . . .

As I See It: Even Thousands of GP

noreply@blogger.com (Blair) — Fri, 12 Oct 2012 06:49:00 +0000

Every adventurer isn't rain man. They look at a heap of coins and say "That looks like 600 GP to me." It's a form of significant figure and with all things being equal, as we assume that adventurers are competent at adventuring matters, all of their estimated coin totals total up to something that's close enough to the actual realistic total that it's not worth slowing down the game to worry about it.

The same way that we don't have things like "Hit Points: blood left: 47543.26 millilitres; compound fracture of left anterior tibia; 2nd degree burn on upper right arm from fingertips to shoulder" and "Sword, long, steel, high carbon, 54 rockwell hardness, blade length: 107.5 cm, entire length: 129.2 cm, single-edged, hollow-grind; sharpness: 63% of maximum; weight: 8.2 kg" on our character sheets for heck's sake.

If say, a theoretical DM, decided that even thousands of coin was unrealistic and would subtract 500 coins and add a d1000 roll to have true scientific realistic treasure hoards, they would find out pretty dang soon that it's a pain in the ass for the DM and the players to deal with that degree of accuracy. Not that I ever learned that lesson the hard way...

Thieves' % Check Idea

noreply@blogger.com (Blair) — Tue, 21 Aug 2012 23:32:00 +0000

The player rolls the 10s die and the DM rolls the 01s die w/o the player knowing the result.

For games where you want the player to have part of the fun of making Thief % checks while still preserving some ambiguity.

I Don't Really Care About the Forgotten Realms BUT...

noreply@blogger.com (Blair) — Sun, 19 Aug 2012 22:46:00 +0000

What's I'm hoping is that the Sundering is akin to how Britannia was shattered into multiple "shards" for Ultima Online. An official campaign world where there's this explicit caveat along the lines of:

"There are countless parallel worlds of the Realms after the Sundering; no two are exactly the same. The Realms that you adventure in will not necessarily confirm to what official published material and novels state, and due to the Sundering that is exactly what the official status of the Realms are now. Your DMs version of the Realms is what they make of it and it is "official"."

So a DM can run their game in the Realms without worrying about knowing all of the Realms minutiae and needing access to every Realms resource or having to deal with Canon Lawyer players going "Actually in the Realms..."

The same way how in the Wilderlands community you have the Original JG Wilderlands, Necromancer Wilderlands, Majestic Wilderlands, Gabor/Melan's Wilderlands, James Mishler's Wilderlands, Scott Z'a Wilderlands of Darkling Sorcery, etc. and there's not a "Right" or "Wrong" Wilderlands, just a setting for DMs to run fantasy adventures as they see fit.

[O/AD&D Prestige Class] The Esoteric Assassin

noreply@blogger.com (Blair) — Sat, 18 Aug 2012 19:32:00 +0000

The Esoteric Assassin

"Some legendary abilities purported to be in the province of ninja training include invisibility, walking on water, and control over the natural elements..."

The Esoteric Assassin’s training in the dark arts allows them to carry out missions of death, for with their spells they can infiltrate and slay with impunity. Esoteric Assassins belong to secret societies hidden in cities or based in remote fortresses in the wilderness.

Requirements: Assassin (or Thug) of 5th level with an Intelligence of 15 or higher and a Dexterity of 16 or higher who has assassinated or challenged to a duel and slain an Esoteric Assassin of higher level for the purpose of joining their society.

Esoteric Assassins progress as an Assassin but gain the benefits of an improved Saving Throw versus Poison and the ability to cast spells. They may progress to a maximum of the 14 level, and must assassinate or challenge to the duel and slay a 14th level Esoteric Assassin to advance to that level.

Level XP Poison Save Spells:1st/2nd/3rd/4th
6 65,000 11 1
7 110,000 10 2
8 190,000 10 3 1
9 335,000 9 3 2
10 550,000 9 3 3 1
11 800,000 5 3 3 2
12 1,325,000 5 3 3 3 1
13 1,875,000 4 3 3 3 2
14 2,125,000 4 3 3 3 3

Spells are prepared and cast the same as a Magic-User, and cannot be cast while the Esoteric Assassin is wearing any armor.

1st Level Spells
Audible Glamer (2)
Change Self (Illusionist, 2e 1)
Detect Poison (UA Druid 1, 2e Cleric 1)
Feather Fall
Fog Cloud (Illusionist 2, 2e 2)
Jump
Sleep
Ventriloquism

2nd Level Spells
Alter Self (2e)
Darkness 15’ Radius
Illusionary Script (Illusionist 3, 2e 3)
Invisibility
Pass Without A Trace (Druid 1, 2e Priest 1)
Spider Climb (1)
Unknowable Alignment (Cleric 1, Reversed)

3rd Level Spells
Misdirection (Illusionist 2, 2e 2)
Non-Detection (Illusionist 3, 2e 3)
Protection From Good 10’ Radius (Reversed)

4th Level Spells
Clairaudience (3)
Clairvoyance (3)
Dimension Door
Improved Invisibility (Illusionist 4, 2e 4)
Poison (reversed Cleric 4)

[Flailsnails] Thieves vs. Specialists

noreply@blogger.com (Blair) — Thu, 16 Aug 2012 22:26:00 +0000

I've been wrestling with how to handle LOTFP Specialists in my Flailsnails OD&D game. OD&D Thieves have d4 hp, set skill %s, and are limited (varying with interpretation) to Daggers and Swords (AD&D pre-UA limits them to club, dagger, dart, swords (long, short & broad) and slings); leather armor & no shields.

Whereas LOTFP specialists have d6 hp, choose their own skills (which is usually a maxed out snaeak attack and stealth), can use any weapon, are limited to their leather when doing sneaky skills and can use shields.

Basically, as I've seen most LOTFP Specialists played, they are analogous to OD&D Assassins (d6 hp, any weapon, leather & shield).

Now I like OD&D/pre-UA AD&D class-based weapon restrictions. Fighters are the bad-asses using bows, pole arms, two-handed swords, morning stars, and the like. In 3E we reached this point where every PC was carrying reach weapons and crossbows and were all members of the Expendables or something, which is cool, but I think OD&D restricted weapons are cool as well and has it's own more-D&D-ish flavor.

Now I want to be a cool flailsnails DM and let people bring in their PCs and play them as they are used to.

Now I was thinking about 3E "munchkin cheese" and how the LOTFP could be seen as the Flailsnails munchkin cheese Thief when I realized something...

...in LOTFP Specialists are forever 1st level when attacking.

Problem solved.

If you play a Thief in my Flailsnails game you are an OD&D Thief.

If you play a Specialist in my Flailsnails OD&D game you are a LOTFP Specialist that forever attacks as a 1st level character.

Balance achieved!