In a response to a previous discussion on how I would remake the magic system in D&D, wickedmurph conjectured:

The other thing that this system would do is really make scrolls viable items again, even for magic-users. No chance of fizzle!

That’s an interesting idea to infer since I hadn’t really addressed casting spells from scrolls. Naturally that got me thinking, ”Should spells cast from a scroll (or wand, staff, rod, item, etc.) follow the failure rules?”

My initial answer? I really didn’t know. But that’s an interesting question worth examining more fully.

In with the new

First up, a really short primer on the way I proposed magic should work by eliminating a bunch of the ills Vancian magic brings to the system. Those interested in reading how I got to these changes should read this post.

• Magic-users can cast any spell they’ve studied without the need to prepare.
• Arcane spells have an innate failure rate equal to Spell Level x 5% that determines if the caster performed the incantation correctly.
• Armor causes arcane spells to fail to be cast.
• Sorcerers, if they’re still present, have access to any arcane spell so long as the spell level is not above their class level.

I’ve already declared my dislike of one time use scrolls, so the idea of no failure from such a device is, at least on the surface, a concern.

The only thing we have to fear

Let’s examine this concern in the same methodology as we examined the magic system proposed. We do so by looking into the fears and examining a mitigating factor or a way around the concern. So what’s our fear?

• That we’ll have magic-users (not all arcane spellcasters – reason identified here) who are carrying around massive amounts of scrolls in order to circumvent the failure rules. And since rules ignored are rules removed, eventually we’ll have a situation where the failure mechanic will be ignored and we will find ourselves in violation of the second fear identified during the redesign of the magic system itself.
  • Related to the above, that they’ll be carting their spellbooks into battle in order to do the same.

Establishing a baseline rule

Let’s examine how other magical items work and see if we can find (or invent) a good general rule.

If we apply a spell failure check from a scroll, then by natural extension, shouldn’t we do the same from a wand, or a staff? What of a spell cast from a magical sword? Though some of the inspiration for our new failure mechanic comes from a view of magic not unlike that in the Harry Potter books, and failure with wands is appropriate in that analysis, it hardly seems fitting with the theme to make Bilbo’s player roll to see if Sting can sense the orcs in the caverns above him.

And what of the extremes? What of Artifacts? Can you fail to operate one? Probably not likely. Fail to operate it properly? You bet! Perhaps that’s not a good metric to use in our analysis.

What of the opposite extreme? What about a simple potion, can the magic contained within it be consumed incorrectly? I think not.

It appears, under this analysis, that magic items really shouldn’t be hindered with spell failure. Therefore I would nearly be inclined to conclude that spells cast from scrolls must not have a failure possibility.

Concerned yet? Don’t be. We’re about to take that turn at Albuquerque.

Where does the magic reside?

And this is why I disagree with Mark’s view of scrolls.

In the previous mentioned analysis of magical items, the magic of the items resides within them. Swords are magical, wands and staves alike. The very liquid of the potion imbibed is infused with magic. Using that magic releases it from the item in question. Think of each item as a repository for the magic, they’re magical in nature.

But what of scrolls? If you take the classical stance that the magic of the spell on the scroll is the scroll itself, then you arguably need to have one-time use scrolls that can be used without fear of failure. Sorry, but that feels artificially Vancianesque to me. And you’ll need to come up with some logic why, for some strange reason, this may or may not apply to the spellbook (or at least it only applies when you cast the spell out of the book directly.)

These are the standard views of scrolls versus books. But the rules for when the magic is released aren’t very logically homogeneous. In some cases transcribing the spell to the book destroys the original scroll. but the reverse (from book to scroll) doesn’t. And I could go on but I won’t. Suffice to say that DMs have argued and twisted their logic to account for when the magic is released and when it isn’t, but it strikes me as a collection of special case rules.

I’m not a fan of lots of small special cases when a single logic could bring all possibilities into the fold.

I take a different stance. I see the scroll no different than the book. Both contain the recipe, not the magic. The magic has to be harnessed by someone who knows how to apply the formula. That’s why only magic-users can use scrolls and why, even if commoners could read the thing, they can’t cast the spell.

But there’s a drawback (for the player) to this line of thinking. However, it addresses our fear identified above because in this view it is the magic-user who is casting the spell, not the scroll. So failure rules apply even to those spells cast from a book or a tome or a scroll. If the item casts the spell, then failure doesn’t apply. If the item provides the methodology but the spell is cast by the character, then roll for success.

Sorry murph, I’m going to have to disagree; spells cast from scrolls should be subject to the same failure percentage as those cast from memory.

Find my logic faulty? Tell me where I went awry.

This post is in response to a long standing request from wickedmurph that instead of just declaring what I don’t like about the track WotC took with 4E D&D, I focus on expending energy taking a crack at fixing what I think is wrong with D&D. I accepted the challenge as a fair and resonable request and could have simply tossed out KORE as a representation of what a rpg should be, but that would have been (at least to me) disingenuous. KORE is a seperate, universal system and not a representation of what I think D&D should be. However, given my last rant, I thought it was time I set to the task.

Some ground rules on the process:

Try to remember that this is just an exercise in what I would have done. Everything here is opinion. Feel free to disagree, consider me an idiot, whatever. If 4E works for you and your gaming crowd, then by all means play it to your hearts’ content. I applaud all fun had in this hobby. However, as I’ve stated numerous times, 4E doesn’t work for me or my gaming crowd. As a result of this, I would not have made the same changes to the game that WotC did. What follows is the first piece of where I would have focused my changes and where I would have gone with the intellectual property. Expect more posts to follow in later days.

My methodology in the process will be guided by a short list of principles:

• Rules should be simple guides, with options to be expand by the DM.
• Rules should lead to interesting options.
• Rules ignored should be rules removed.
• No Rule is sacred.
• No inspiration forbidden.

For this process we can assume our starting point is one of the following:

• Go all the way back to 2E and take a different approach to changes into a new 3E.
• 3E or 3.5E since they’re fundamentally the same creature (those wanting to argue otherwise should consider that the entirety of the changes in the system fit in one nice downloadable pdf) and make our way forward ignoring 4E.
• Start with 4E and try to clean it up.

Neither of the last two options really appeal to me since I have issues with both 4E and 3.xE versions. As a result, rather than just frustrate the daylights out of myself trying to fix 4E, I’ll go with trying to turn 2E into a better version of 4E by removing the bloat of the 3.xE versions of the game. This isn’t to say that 2E is a great starting point, but it’s probably the best choice we have if we want to retain some continuity without just creating our own OSR. However, I do intend to address the roots of the problems in the game, so some of the things I’ll be changing will go all the way back to the beginning; magic is a perfect example of this.

Where to start?

The first thing I would have done was address the issue with spellcasters being so wimpy at level 1 and artificially hamstrung nukes at higher levels. 4E addresses this by balancing all the classes with powers that follow a special formulaic mechanic of daily/encounter/etc. use powers and skills. Basically, in 4E, WotC applied all that’s wrong with Vancian magic to everyone. So first up on my chopping block: Vancian magic and all that it does wrong, and finding a way to have the perfect union of a single concept in two forms.

For those unfamiliar with the term, Vancian Magic is a specific form of “rule magic” that conforms to these functional rules (along with whatever other metaphysics the writer chooses):

1. Magical effects are packaged into distinct spells; each spell has one fixed purpose. A spell that throws a ball of fire at an enemy just throws balls of fire, and generally cannot be “turned down” to light a cigarette, for instance. I may not like this specifically, but for the nature of a D&D game, it works fine and I believe we can leave it alone.
2. Spells represent a kind of “magic-bomb” which must be prepared in advance of actual use, and each prepared spell can be used only once before needing to be prepared again. That’s why it is also known as “Fire & Forget magic”. This is a major sticking point for me. We’ll be addressing this specifically.
3. Magic-users have a finite capacity of prepared spells which is the de facto measure of their skill and/or power. A spellcaster using magic for combat is thus something like a living gun: he must be “loaded” with spells beforehand and can run out of magical “ammunition”. Again, this is wrong in my estimation so we will also be eliminating this in our new system.

Vancian magic is described more fully here and here.

This article by Gary is a good read on how Jack Vance’s Dying Earth influenced the D&D game.

I sincerely think that in 4E, WotC went down the wrong path when they chose to apply per X use and limitations on all classes in an attempt to downplay the effect this very limitation as applied to spellcasters was viewed in pre-4E games. Basically one of my major gripes with the 4E system is that WotC took the two major problems with Vancian magic (which historically only applied to arcane spellcasters like the magic-user and sorcerer) and applied it to the skills and powers of all classes in some misguided effort to balance the game experience equation. I realize that if you’re creating a tactical simulation that might be exactly what you need to do to balance the classes, but I think that’s the wrong way to go in a rpg.

I also tend to think opposition to changing the magic paradigm in D&D is due to fear. I hope to address those fears and demonstrate how they can be assuaged. But for now, let’s assume that when we’re done with this exercise, we’re going to end up with a magic system that doesn’t look much like the Vancian-inspired one in D&D, embrace what feels right about whatever system or mechanic choice we make, and just see where it leads us.

What’s wrong with what we have?

To get the ball rolling, let’s explore the four main reasons I hate the Vancian take on magic as it is portrayed and mechanically described by the rules in all versions of D&D. Let’s look at what each of these issues brings to (or removes from) the gaming table. As I pointed out earlier, WotC decided to apply some of the limitations described here to all the classes in 4E, so you can imagine how much the entire game irks me. Your list may be entirely different (or non-existent for that matter) but this is mine:

1. The idea that spellcasters must memorize each and every spell each and every day (and after each and every cast) just to remember the specific magical formulas that they’re so versed in is about as un-magical in its application as I can imagine. Any attempt by the proponents of this type of system to defend it usually leads to discussions on how the formula becomes magically etched in the caster’s brain and “erases” itself in the casting. Never you mind that a magic-user can memorize the same spell a number of times and cast it equally well until all those specific memorizations are expended… here the magic-user sounds more like a magical firearm or battery than anything else. Also, it begs the question as to the believability of this reasoning by leading to discussions where a magic-user memorizes a spell, rests for one hour and has to re-memorize that spell because it was lost.
2. Limiting the number of spells a magic-user can cast per day makes Vancian magic virtually unplayable at lower levels and ridiculously gimped at upper levels. I won’t really get into the whole reason that magic-users were given the crossbow as a weapon in 3E. It is obvious to me that it was an attempt to hide the flaw in spell limitations that was so present in the system due to the Vancian system.
3. Vancian magic leads to choices – which are good in games. But did it lead to interesting choices? Often? The choices a magic-user has under a Vancian system is a lot like trying to guess what would be most appropriate stock to pick for the future. While some may think this is great because it leads to interesting situations, it is a very illogical and artificial ruling. I would prefer to move the interesting choice to a different facet of spell selection and make the choice more meaningful and less guesswork.
4. One of the most often ignored parts of the D&D magic system has been the time it takes to memorize and pray for spells. In addition to the (I think it was 15 minutes per level of spell to be memorized), in later editions there was a requirement for 8 hours of rest prior to memorization just to prepare the mind for said memorization… Really? Wow, magic-users must really suck at harnessing magic, because that’s just lame. Result? Ignore the rule. End result, rules that aren’t played. Remembering our mantra, rules that are ignored or hand-waved (like weapons speeds and weapon versus AC modifiers) because they’re not playable should be removed… post haste.

In addition to the above list of Vancian wrongs, I’ll add a few other things to my list of changes we should address. These changes will come out of a desire to follow the reduction methodology to our new rules. Like time requirements for memorization highlighted above, if a rule is ignored by the majority of the gaming populace, then it should be removed. Two main features of spells that are routinely ignored are:

• Spell casting times
• Components

Both casting times and components are intriguing ideas, and while I may personally like the idea of both in limited form for a handful of spells, it is my belief that both are ignored by most players in nearly all occasions. Because of my opinion that rules ignored should be rules eliminated, casting time and components should be removed for nearly every spell. I’ll let DMs make exceptions to this decision, but in our new system, these two facets of spells will be removed.

Furethermore, in the list of things to be removed, a spell comes to mind as well:

• Read Magic as a spell.

Read magic as a spell requried to be known in order to read and understand magic (which is the life study of magic-users) is absurd at best. I know few who actually play the requirement of this spell. Again, since my process indicates that items ignored should be eliminated, this spell must go.

Wow, according to me, there’s a lot wrong with the mechanics of magic. Redesigning them and capturing a real magic feel will be a challenge. But let’s not shrink from the challenge. We have options, options aplenty! Let’s take a look at a radically different way of doing this stuff and see if perhaps there’s a happy medium that will allow arcane spellcasters to shine without stealing the spotlight.

But how to change it?

What if magic-users were like unlearned supers who had the potential to have access to every spell no matter the level and were capable of learning and therefore casting any level of spell they have studied? All spells would be available to the caster at any moment (since we’d presume they remember it) and could be cast repeatedly and with impunity, therefore eliminating some of the perils of Vancian Magic. I see this a lot like a version of magic in most supers games and also much like magic in the Harry Potterverse.

For example, a 2nd level magic-user is adventuring in a tomb with her comrades. She has already learned the following spells:

• Level 0:
  • Disrupt Undead
  • Light
  • Outburst
• Level 1:
  • Detect Secret Doors
  • Magic Missile
• Level 2:
  • See Invisibility

At any time during the game, the player can choose any of these spells for her magic-user to cast since she has studied and knows them. She needn’t guess at what will be useful since she need not prepare spells. During their adventure, the magic-user finds a tome with an arcane spell. Over the course of time (determined by the DM) she studies the text and learns a new 3rd level spell: Vampiric Touch. After study and memorization she adds this spell to her repetoire. Now she can cast this spell at any time, just as she could any of those previously listed.

Note that in this new paradigm, the magic-user has access to spells outside her previously described capability in all prior versions of D&D. She can cast spells above what she would have historically been granted by the spell progression charts. In fact, under this new methodology, she can repeatedly cast a spell that is considered above her class level. (If she had discovered and learned a 7th level spell, she would have access to the spell as well.) That’s perfectly ok, spell progression charts were an atrificial construct to prevent fears we will address later. If we look across the class isle at the fighter, we don’t see an artificially imposed restriction on the use of magical swords. (Except in the new daily/encounter use powers of some magical items in 4E, but we’re eliminating the Vancian paradigm here and remember that we’re ignoring 4E in this process so we can assume it doesn’t actually exist.) So why should we apply this construct to the arcane classes?

Also, in this new way of seeing magic, spells would still need to be learned and discovered, but once so, what if they were permanently etched in the mind of the mage? That sounds more likely, again if we glance across the isle, it’s not as if fighters need to break out a manual every morning to recall how to swing a sword. So why artificially force the arcane classes to do so? Fear. Fear that the class will break balance and fail to meet the Interesting Choice tennant.

If this has you thinking that it sounds a lot like I’m advocating for the removal of the magic-user in preference to a sorcer style class that need not prepare spells before casting them, you’re partially right. I’ll address the full implications on the sorcerer class in the heading But What about the Sorcerer.

The First Fear

What’s our fear? Are we afraid that the game will become some representation of Dungeon Siege or Diablo in which spellcasters only work their way up some spell tree to the next best spell and are rarely ever required to make an interesting choice to “step it down a notch” in their selection?

Aren’t most fighters really played this way? Sir Slash the Hackmaster gets his hands on that coveted +4 sword and you’ll probably never see him choose a different weapon if he can help it… at least not until he discovers a +5 version. Why assume spellcasters would be any different? What’s more, why write rules to force them to be? This shouldn’t be part of the rules. Rather, let the scenario and situation described by the DM give them reasons to do otherwise, don’t force it in the mechanics. If you want Sir Slash to use his bow, you (the DM) create the opportunity for him to select a different weapon. You don’t artificially state that, according to the rules, Slash can swing a sword X number of times before he must change to his bow for Y attacks. And what’s more, Slash’s player must decide beforehand, while preparing for the day’s adventure, out of N possible total attacks with X+Y=N, what values of X and Y will be chosen… absurd? Very.

So assuming once again that we’re going to end up with something unlike the current system, let’s agree to embrace what feels right about the logic of the Diablo-esque/Dungeon Siege spell selection mechanic and give arcane classes free reign to all the spells at their disposal… at any time. Now that arcane spellcasters are allowed to cast any spell they know at any time they feel it appropriate, doesn’t that feel more natural in the setting? Mages aren’t just dangerous for their capacity to wield arcane might, but for the possible depth within which they’ve studied the arcane itself. With this single decision we’ve unfettered the magic system and addressed issues #1, #2, and #4 and added more interest to the class.

Consider now the magic-user player who suddenly has a legitimate reason and desire to seek out, learn and study ancient lore for a glimpse into that new and unknown bit of magic. Consider their glee in finding a new spell to devour and harness. This is the stuff of real wizards, not the hour and a half spent every morning re-memorizing the formula that they memorized just yesterday. We’ve just added depth to the character, that’s a good thing.

But somewhere there’s a niggling fear that we’ve created a monster of a class without any real interesting options. Let’s examine those fears.

Fear, Take Two

What’s our next fear? Mages will become the nuke of every encounter and just throw fireball after fireball without ever thinking, thus violating  a core tennant, the Interesting Choice rule of a good game, and putting us squarely back with issue #3. Tied to this fear is a newly created issue spawned by our change: The creation of the everyman, a class that can do anything as good as, or better than, any other class and is therefore the only real class choice to make. (This is another violation of the Interesting Choice tennant in disguise.) Now there are a couple of valid fears that I could see arising from our removal of the “spells per day, spell progression, and spells known” mechanics. But before we scrap the idea as broken, let’s not run from the concept, rather let’s see if there’s anything we can use either already in the game, or perhaps from outside to address it.

Preventing Lather, Rinse, Repeat

Readers of this blog will note that my family and I play a MMO game called Wizard101. Wizard101 has a mechanic to prevent every spell cast from boringly working every time and therefore being the only spell of choice in a duel. This mechanic is called Fizzle. For the record, my wizard Kevin FireForge has the mantle of King of Fizzle because his spells fail often. Fizzle rates for spells are based on the type, cost to cast, result, and school and range from 90% to 0% depending.

For those of you coming to this discussion from the D&D side of the hobby, think of Fizzle as an over-arching Spell Failure rate unaffected by clothing selection. I believe arcane spell failure was introduced in 2E, though it might have been a 3E rule. Prior to the rule, magic-users could not cast spells when wearing armor. The nature of the failure isn’t important to us per se, but once again the core mechanic tends to make me think of the Potterverse where performing a spell wrong (usually) simply makes nothing happen. Some spells are more difficult to cast (and therefore have a higher fizzle rate) and some are easy to master (and have little or no fizzle rate.)

I propose we take this Fizzle idea, rename it Spell Failure to make it simple to comprehend for legacy D&D players, and graft it onto our new idea of magic. Since spells conveniently range in level from 0 to 9, let’s take advantage of some really nifty and easy math and codify the idea by saying that spells have a failure percentage rate equal to their level times 5. Cantrips (level 0 spells) succeed 100% of the time unless opposed by some factor while the really big guns of magic need proper care in casting and a bit of luck to fire. So, for instance, a level 3 spell has a spell failure rate of 15%; it will be successfully cast 85% of the time while a level 9 spell has little better than a 50/50 chance of being cast properly.

Some of you may now be wondering if I’ll be removing Arcane Spell Failure rules for magic-users casting spells in armor. Keep reading, that’s part of the Everyman fear. I’ll address it under the heading Wizards in Plate.

How does this address issue #3? Well, in this way, at least in combat, a tactically interesting situation for spell casters would be seen every round in the form of a choice of “throwing a big nuke” that has a good chance of failure (and therefore being a dud) or performing a lesser bit of arcane lore that, though less impressive, is also more likely succeed. If ninth level spells are just a bit over a coin toss to succeed before the rest of the spell mechanics fall into play, then we no longer need fear that the magic-user will simply be the fireball Gatling Gun of the party. Instead the magic-user takes its place as the iconic, arcane, Swiss army knife they should be.

Perhaps magic items would arise that aid the successful casting of spells. I envision something like:

The Artful Wand (minor magic item)
Grants: Improved Spellcasting conferring a 2% reduction in Spell Failure when casting arcane spells.

And what of factors against spellcasting? How about a new spell?

Bumbler’s Curse
Effect: Debilitated Spellcasting. 1% per level reduction to spell casting success for target for 1 hour per level.

Or a new feat to raise our magic-user’s chances of being successful?

Precise Motions
Effect: Raises the successful casting percentage of all spells by 5%

Or a new magic-hindering trap:

Dampened Magic Zone
Effect: All spells have double their failure rate in the area of effect.

The Everyman Fear

The next fear we should address is this fear that the magic-user will essentially become an everyman, jack of all trades, and eventually outshine all the other classes. Since their magic could do anything significantly class-oriented, this fear is, on the surface, a valid one. (Some may claim that this situation already exists, but let’s address it none-the-less.) However, considering that each spell requires a percentile roll to even be successfully cast, then another roll at times to hit, likely a saving throw in there too and you’ve got the makings for a less assured comparison.

A fighter has to roll to hit, then damage, while a magic-user has to roll to succeed in casting, roll to hit, then roll damage which can be (partially or completely) negated by a saving throw. From this simplistic analysis we see that a fighter is a better “over the course of a fight” damage dealer than the spellcaster since factors such as “to hit” rolls in conjunction with spell failure make the spellcaster less likely to successfully perform the big, damage-dealing spells often. The magic-user can dish out some damage, but for assured damage dealing, a fighter is the go-to guy.

But what of those spells that lie outside of combat and therefore could be rolled repeatedly until success is guaranteed? This situation could be said of the rogue and its ability to hide, backstab, open locks, remove traps, etc. But if the fear is too great for the less combat tangible situations, simply make sure that equal level classes never get out-shined by the magic of the spellcaster. (i.e. make sure that find traps has a slightly less effective rate of success than that of an average rogue.) In this light the spellcaster would be the go-to guy when the rogue is incapacitated, but not the go-to guy when the rogue is available.

In this new analysis, the magic-user becomes at worst a lesser everyman, which is arguably where the class started before we began. Since we’ve done nothing to increase this issue, I think the fear should be assuaged.

Wizards in plate

In order to deal with our co-opting of spell failure and the concerns that a high level magic-user will essentially outshine any other class, we should consider that allowing the arcane spellcaster access to armor wasn’t a good design choice. As a result, wizards will suffer complete spell failure when in armor exceeding the protection of clothing. This is a good design decision in that it removes many smaller rules (armor percentages for spell failure) for one single rule.

This is also a good idea since this places the magic-user (with lower HP and defense) back in a position of vulnerability from a physical standpoint, and therefore less likely to take the lead Everyman role. For those interested in class niche-protection, this ruling prevents the magic-user from taking on the role of a magical warrior or a secondary cleric. If the magic-user can wear no armor, they are once again balanced defensively against their formidable offensive capabilities. As a result, the re-inclusion of this rule adds more interest to the game than its removal brought.

• Does this mean that magic-users can’t wear armor and use a shield? Absolutely not.
• Does this mean that magic-users can’t cast spells successfully in armor or while carrying a shield? Absolutely!

Let’s examine the logic behind this idea. Assuming that all forms of armor are constrictive in nature of movement (and I can’t think of a single type that isn’t), this restriction makes perfect sense. Harnessing arcane energies in formulaic somatic methods requires precision that must be matched perfectly. Armor restricts precision. Therefore, if hindrances such as binding hands causes spells to be un-castable, then by simple analogy, why should restrictive armor not do the same?

But what about Sorcerers?

Our final hurdle is the inclusion of the Sorcerer in D&D. Historically the magic-user was the arcane spellcaster and was epitomized as the scholarly student of the arcane. However, with the inclusion of Dark Sun, a new arcane class emerged, epitomized by a charismatic wielder of innate magics; the sorcerer. As described in 3E, in terms of general mechanics, sorcerers don’t need to learn spells. As masters of arcane magic, their magical ability is innate rather than studied.

Unlike the current magic-user, and more like our propsed magic-user, sorcerers need not prepare spells. However, if we apply our freedom to select any spell known to the innate abilities of the sorcerer, we find ourselves in a quandry. How can we avoid this new everyman issue of the sorcerer having unfetterd access to all the spells?

Personally I’d prefer to roll back and eliminate the Sorcerer altogether and fold the class back into the magic-user. However, I realize that many would contend that the class is now iconic to the game and removing it a bridge too far. Well, we just removed Vancian magic from D&D, present since the Basic Edition, so the removal of the sorcerer shouldn’t be much more than an afterthought.

However, let’s assume you don’t want to remove the sorcerer but instead want to remove Vancian magic. How can we mesh the two concepts?

While the sorcerer may at first appear to be a major roadblock to our new concept of any magical spell learned being available to a spellcaster. The solution isn’t as drastic as you might think. We simply change the spells available for a Sorcerer to cast as a list containing any spell of their level and below. Put another way, a sorcerer’s available spell list is the same as all the arcane spells of spell level equal to their class level and below. The drawback of a sorcerer is that they do not learn spells and therefore cannot cast spells above their levels. Since their magic is innate they don’t gain the benefit of learning spells.

Let’s sum up the changes proposed:

I know this has become quite a long article, but I wanted to make sure to address the issues I’ve raised thoroughly and fairly. Magic is an integral part of the game and over the years I’ve come to believe that it’s been done wrong since the beginning and adhered to in spite of the shortcomings because of fear. I feel that with the changes mentioned, magic would once again give the game that elusive magical quality it has been missing while avoiding the pitfalls of the current system.

• Magic-users can cast any spell they’ve studied without the need to prepare.
• Spells have an innate failure rate equal to Spell Level x 5% that determines if the caster performed the incantation correctly.
• Armor causes arcane spells to fail to be cast.
• Sorcerers, if they’re still present, have access to any arcane spell so long as the spell level is not above their class level.

Sounds more like magic to me. Think I’m crazy? Then chime in and tell me where I’ve taken the left at Albuquerque.

I’ve been bemoaning the state of Mad Scientist: The Game fairly heavily.
So it was a total shock when, a couple of nights ago, my wife surprised me with the most unexpected of gifts. She made me mockups of the monster part cards for the game.
While these are in no way going to be the completed works, they do work really nicely as stand-ins until the final artwork is found.

I’m not even going to waste a lot of text on this other than to say that I was floored, stunned beyond words. And extermely happy.

Here are the scanned copies of her work:

Dracula	Wolfman
Mummy	Frankenstein
Swampman	Robot

Other than to say that a little Photoshop (or Paint.net in this case) will be used to clean them up and colorize them before turning them into cards, I won’t be adding anything more in the way of a discussion on these since I think they all speak for themselves.

Thank you Sara.

* These are mockups, so the title could also read, “Artwork at last… for now.”

A couple days ago I posted about my current situation with Mad Scientist: The Game (obligitory link to the past here.) You may recall that I was a bit disappointed with the state of things with regard to artwork.

Well, I received an email from someone who has been quietly following my progress. His name is Daniel Davis and he’s an artist who loves monsters. Unfortunately he’s a way too swamped with projects of his own to do the artwork for the game. But he did offer some very kind words of encouragement that made me feel a lot better about how the game is coming along.

 I really want to thank him for giving me an emotional boost. And since I can’t do much more than reply with my thanks (someone tell my Mom I remembered my manners and already did) and publicly thank him here as well, I’m posting the links to his work, Twitter page, and newsletter subscription. He’s got a love of all things monster, so do me a favor and go check out his monstrorous creations, maybe follow him on Twitter, or sign up for his newsletter.

Help me thank him for encouraging me.

Daniel Davis
http://www.steamcrow.com/
http://www.monstercommute.com/

http://www.twitter.com/steamcrow
http://www.flickr.com/photos/secret-creatures/

Sign up for his Secret newsletter:
http://list-manage.com/subscribe.phtml?id=b9a0edf27f

Thanks again Daniel.

Yes, yes, I know. The title’s a bit redundant. But that’s how I feel. At least with language I’m allowing myself to use here it is. The artwork for Mad Scientist: The Game hasn’t been coming through in a timely matter. Truth be told I haven’t heard a peep from my new artist since she had her kid. I understand the desire to spend time with your newborn. Heck, I questioned if she would have the time – gave her some gentle reminders – never once pushed her for an update. But I still haven’t heard anything from her. And that’s what’s monumentally annoying me.

So I’m hereby cutting my current artist loose… that makes 2 artists I’ve gone through on this project. I completely understand the situation each artist is in, and don’t begrudge them their decisions that led to them leaving the project, but I’m still beginning to wonder if the issue really lies in me or what I’m asking. At the moment I’m not really sure what I’m doing wrong here, but that’s the update on the current state of this project. Namely we’re no further along than the last update.

I’m seriously considering asking my son to mock up some artwork for the game; just enough to get a feel for what the thing looks like with SOMETHING other than text. I know he’d be more than willing, and can draw a pretty cool robot too. Unfortunately his skill at the other monsters might leave a bit to be desired. Then again, maybe I’ll do just that… unless another artist comes along.

Consider this a third call for artists. Interested parties should contact me.

A continuation of the discussion of Luck Point usage in the KORE rpg, we now turn our attention to the Blaze of Glory action.

While Pushing your Luck is performed in response to, and to augment, spectacular success, Blaze of Glory actions are performed in response to, and to augment, spectacular but catastrophic failures or events. They are the role-play equivalent of martyring oneself for the cause.

Any character with Luck Points may declare a Blaze of Glory Action as the result of a catastrophic failure or in the event of imminent death, in doing so they must transfer all the Luck Points currently in their Luck Point Pool into the Glory Pool. These Luck Points now become Glory Points that must be either spent immediately, or lost forever.
The Player must declare that he is performing a Blaze of Glory action immediately before his turn is over and all results of the Blaze must be determined before play can continue.

Note that the Player, not the GM determines if a “Blaze of Glory” event occurs.

Once a player declares a Blaze of Glory Action, any other player may spend one additional Luck Point to add to the Glory Pool. However, only the Glory Blazing player may stipulate the result of the Glory Point expenditure. If points are left unspent in the Glory Pool, they are lost forever.

Essentially Glory Blazing is an extension and continuation of a simple Luck Point expenditure to keep a character alive. However, instead of stipulating that the character lives, the character still dies (unless additional Glory Points are expended to keep the character alive) but the player chooses instead to stipulate benefits of their Luck Point usage for another individual.

Note that even if the player stipulates that death is somehow averted, their character is removed from play until the completion of the story arc.

Example of a Blaze of Glory:
Already in the clutches of the mad leader of the cultist group, Odie’s girlfriend, the lovely Ms. Sera, knows that she has no hope for escape from the cellar. To make matters worse, Sera has just overheard the cultists discussing how they intend to leave soon and intercept her true love as he makes his way to some abandoned lighthouse. It seems the villains are on some timetable and are attempting to tie up all the loose ends before some appointed time. The cultists begin to perform a ritual, summoning something horrid from beyond the realms of reality… Sera immediately realizes that she is to be a sacrifice…

Sera’s player scans her character sheet one last time for some means of escape. Finding none, but realizing that she has a Luck Point at her disposal, she resolves herself of her action. Sera’s player declares that Sera’s not going out quietly, rather she’s going out in a Blaze of Glory.

Play stops as Sera’s Luck Point is immediately moved to the Glory Pool. Immediately 1 point is subtracted from the pool as a cost of beginning the Blaze and declaring the outcome of the event. Sera’s player must now declare a stipulation that must benefit another player. She declares that the summoning will, as a result of altering the fabric of reality, transform the bottles of wine stored in the cellar into a highly flammable liquid, which will subsequently explode, killing everyone in the house.

Killing the cultists benefits Odie who will not have to meet them during his investigations. – KO

Seeing an opportunity to perhaps save his character’s girlfriend, Odie’s player subtracts 1 Luck Point from his character sheet and adds it to the Glory Pool. With points now remaining in the pool, Sera’s player writes a note to the GM declaring that somehow Sera’s proximity to the burgeoning portal protected her from the explosion by transporting her to an alternate realm for a time. Sera is removed from play and the game resumes… only Sera’s player and the GM know that at some point in the future Sera will return…

I’m an old school guy. I want it in hardcopy form. PDF form is a plus but a non-starter. I want a book in my hand not something I need an electronic device to read. Before the idiots chime in about printers, yeah I have one of those. It needs to be bound in book(let) form.

I have no preferences on system/genres. I just want the recommendations on the best game material available.

Thanks for your help!

Random Thought: Why do theme changes and color choices get more comments than posts with good rpg content? Are we that shallow?

A long while back (nearly a year now) I posted about Luck Points, their usage and how they came to be added to the KORE rpg. In that post I eluded to some optional uses for these points. And while I haven’t yet changed their name from Luck Points or Hero Points to Awesome Points in the alpha version of the KORE rules, I wanted to post about some of these options.

First up: Pushing your Luck

Upon rolling a Flash of Brilliance (FoB), any player with Luck Points in his Luck Pool can declare that for the next declared number of actions, they will “Push their Luck.”

After subtracting a Luck Point for declaring the action, Pushing your Luck automatically declares that the same action be performed for up to as many turns as the player has Luck Points remaining and wishes to Push his Luck, but also decreases the player’s Luck Point Pool by the declared turns. The player forgoes the immediate FoB check and instead declares that he is pushing his luck for a specified number of turns.

Note that the GM must agree that the action can be pushed.
Your GM is the final arbiter for ascertaining if “Pushing one?s Luck” is possible for an action.

The character must perform the action for the specified number of rounds or forfeit all benefits of the “Push” and loose the declared number of Luck Points. While the player need not roll any dice to determine success of the action, if at any time the action becomes impossible to perform, the push fails.

At the end of a successfully pushed action, the results are always spectacular and beneficial. While the nature of how spectacular is determined by how difficult and how long the player pushed his luck, the pushed action always results in an immediate improvement of the skill pushed and places a check beside the skill for end of game Trial and Error improvement possibilities.

Special cases/rules:

• Flash of Brilliance resulting from “Pushing your Luck”
  Successfully pushing an action always results in an immediate FoB improvement of the skill pushed.
• Trial and Error resulting from “Pushing your Luck”
  Successfully pushing an action always results in placing a check beside the skill pushed for end of game Trial and Error improvement possibilities.

Pushing one’s luck is always a gamble, and a decision not chanced lightly. However, it is also the best way to immediately improve a skill and net a cool result in the process.
Cautious players may decide to push only non-opposed checks in hopes of never fearing that the action will somehow become impossible. But as demonstrated in the following example, even what appears to be a non-opposed event can turn out to be opposed.

Example of “Pushing your Luck”
Odie has been spending days pouring over the dusty forgotten books and tomes in the Library Archives of the local University. Hot on the trail of some otherworldly creature, his previous research indicated that some secret is buried in the chaotic mass of parchment and papers – a secret that might lead to the current resting place of a monster.

Odie’s player declares that he will attempt an investigation roll to hopefully glean some forgotten bit of lore from the ancient manuscripts.

Odie’s current investigate score is 4, giving him a good chance of finding something so long as it isn’t too obscure. But the GM decides that the task is somewhat difficult with a modifier of 2 determining that Odie must roll a 1 or a 2 to succeed.

Odie rolls a d10 and gets a 1! A success and a Flash of Brilliance too! Seeing an opportunity to improve his skills as well as gain some valuable information, Odie immediately declares that since he has 2 Luck Points, he will spend 1 and “Push his Luck” for his next turn. The GM agrees that Odie may indeed “Push his Luck”. Odie immediately subtracts 1 Luck Point from his Pool, reducing it to 1.

Unbeknown to Odie, this round Mark-H is also temporally searching for clues to the location of the same monster, but his search is occurring temporally. Since both characters are searching the Library Archives at the same time, but only one can find the information hidden within, the GM declares that each player determine their Action Initiative score – the GM decides that Declaration Initiative isn’t necessary in this case since both players have already declared their actions prior to the conflict.

Odie rolls an 8 and adds this to his DEX for a result of 12. Mark-H rolls a 2 and adds this to his DEX for a result of 8. Odie will get to the information before it is whisked away to some future time-line.

However, had Odie failed to act before Mark-H, Odie would have lost all the benefits of “Pushing his Luck” since the action he had chosen (namely investigate) would have no longer been possible. He would have still had to expend the Luck Points, but no benefit would have been realized – including FoB, Trial and Error improvements.

Another turn goes by in which Odie performs the same investigative action and is automatically considered successful; requiring no roll. Odie’s remaining Luck Point is now subtracted from his Pool.

At the beginning of the next round, the GM declares that Odie uncovers a host of information including the diary of the last Lighthouse Keeper. Within the diary is a dried sprig of holly and a dried four leaf clover. Odie’s player increases his Investigate score by 1 to 5 and places a check by it for a possible Trial and Error improvement at the end of the story arc.

You have to admire the folks at SparkFun in Boulder, Colorado. If you recall, I was attempting to compete in the Autonomous Vehicle Competition they held that conflicted with our last Convergence. My entry failed during the 2010 AVC due to a lack of testing time and changes made days before the competition.

The current competition – Antimov is a bit more difficult. The robot has to perform a task, useless is preferred, and then destroy itself at the end of the performance. Testing is going to be difficult to say the least. How do you adequately test self-destruction without also destroying the performance you are working on testing? As SparkFun’s founder states in the competition commentary:

I really like the idea because it turns my normal engineering cycle on its head. Write code, test. Build thing, test. Antimov makes it a heck of a lot harder to really test the whole device. It doesn’t allow an advantage to the coding guru. Instead it’s who is most creative. I will gladly destroy my robot if it forces me to engineer in a different way. (Nate)

The competition was announced back in early June. SparkFun is a small organization and unless you keep up with the RSS feed or visit their site frequently, announcements are easy to miss. The competition sparks my imagination but once again I have other activities planned. Instead of role playing, I’ll be stalking ungulates somewhere outside of Steamboat Springs this time around.

The competition has a lot of parallels in modern life. We’re constantly procuring items for one time use and then tossing them away. Or we invent solutions for one time events and never reuse them again. On the procurement side, every fast food meal uses containers that usually end up in a landfill rather than being recycled. So do the water bottles and soda containers that are oh so handy to buy.

Role playing games follow the same model as the competition – Invent, Use, and Destroy. The individual games are not self-destructive by design but the model is similar – invent, play and discard. The vast majority of what is played is never seen outside the target audience of a few players. As a group, we are more than willing to toss away a great amount of creative energy for the consumption of only a few. I have no problem with the model – I subscribe to it.

The RPG publishing industry is far more blatant. They actively work at making games disposable and actively encourage the consumers to discard materials. RPG’s are a niche market with an easily saturated base. The path of profitability is to replace prior products with incompatible new releases. Is that evil? No. It is the exercise of a free market and expertise in marketing. What is selling today will not continue to pay the salaries tomorrow. Thus the cycle of new editions, re-invention, and release of new books will continue. The cycle must continue to keep the business alive.

Should a company invent the “perfect rpg”, they assure the company’s demise. Not quickly because supplements, add-ons, and affiliated materials will provide a revenue stream for months and years to come. Eventually, it will saturate the market because the consumer base is limited. For many of us, “perfect” isn’t necessary it is “what worked”. I believe a lot of the Old School uprising is based upon the “enough” theory. The expenditure of the creative energy at the individual level is enough to have fun.