D is for Dungeon

[over the course of the month of April, I shall be posting a topic for each letter of the alphabet, sequentially, every day of the week except Sunday. Our topic for the month is Advanced Dungeons & Dragons: how to approach it, how to run it, how to enjoy a system that deserves to be played NOW, nearly 50 years after its inception. Consider this a 'crash course' in the subject]

D is for Dungeon...specifically dungeon design.

The "dungeon" is (as one might expect) a rather important concept in a game called Dungeons & Dragons. Gygax's glossary in the DMG provides us with the following definition:

Dungeon -- A generic term for any castle, location, or ruin that serves as the site of an underground adventure.

Okay, straightforward enough. Or is it? 

The thing is this whole idea...this whole concept, the premise on which the game is built...is about as clear as mud. We are told in the PHB that "individual adventuring usually takes place in an underworld dungeon setting" until 

"play gradually expands to encompass other such dungeons, town and city activities, wilderness explorations, and journeys into other dimensions, planes, times, worlds, and so forth."

However, when it comes to the three types of adventures described in the PHB (p.101) between dungeons, wilderness, and city and town adventures

"Adventures into the underworld mazes are the most popular."

The reason the word dungeon is central in the game's title is because exploring dungeons is the most elementary part of game play. It is the reason the players are here...the reason they're willing to work together, cooperatively, towards a common objective. The dungeon...an underworld death trap filled with dangerous monsters and monstrous dangers while tempting players with the promise of fame and fortune...is the draw. When we say, D&D is a game of adventure, the DUNGEON is the location where that adventure takes place. For the most part (we'll get to the caveats in a bit).

Which is why it's so unfortunate that the AD&D books provide ALMOST ZERO INFORMATION ON HOW TO BUILD OR DESIGN A DUNGEON.

Unfortunate, I say, but true. A gross oversight on the part of the author, and one I didn't even realize till a few years ago, when I was writing a series of posts comparing the DMGs of various editions. None of them are "good" when it comes to this topic...in fact, "terrible" would be a more apt description. But it took me years to notice this lack of information because I learned the basics of how to design dungeons decades before...from Tom Moldvay.

Moldvay's Basic Dungeons & Dragons Rulebook (published in 1981...two years after the DMG) gives a pretty similar definition of the word "dungeon:" a place underground and often among ruins, where characters adventure. However, unlike Gygax's DMG, Moldvay outlines a step-by-step process for designing an adventure...in two pages, no less! His system, while simple, provides the foundational building blocks of design:

Step 1: Choose A Scenario. Moldvay calls this the "background theme or idea which ties the dungeon together," and notes that a "good scenario always gives the players a reason for adventuring." 

Step 2: Decide On A Setting. This is the actual location where the scenario takes place, the "dungeon" in question. Examples of adventure sites include castles, caverns, crypts, temples, mines, stronghold, towns, and towers...most any fixed location can serve as an adventure site, i.e. a "dungeon." But regardless, they all have in common the following elements:

- removed from "normal" (game) civilization

- stocked with danger

- contain the promise of reward

Step 3: Decide On Special Monsters. The D&D game, in all its editions, thrives on conflict, and requires adversaries for the players to struggle against. The scenario and setting suggests monstrous opponents that players can expect to encounter while exploring the dungeon.

Step 4: Draw The Dungeon Map. The first practical step (everything up till now has been thought exercise and/or brainstorming). You draw a map of the area the players intend to explore. For me, this is the most difficult part of dungeon design, as I tend to be a bit hard on myself. I often pull blueprints of actual buildings and cave complexes to use as templates, but I also steal maps from old adventures and re-work/re-purpose them. 

Good maps have sensible layouts, often with multiple means of ingress and exit, multiple levels (both up and down) with more than one way to access each, and enough asymmetry of design to be interesting. Maps for less experienced (generally lower level) players should be easier to map than those you design for experienced veterans, because players tend to want to make sketches during play to aid in their explorations. Making a nightmare labyrinth of non-Euclidean angles and shifting walls is going to be hard on players with fewer resources...and "actual play experience" is one of those resources.

In addition to being clear and legible enough for YOU, the DM, to read, it should have a number of encounter areas...rooms, chambers, special points on the map...that you should meticulously label with a numerical key. I strongly advise using simple numbering for these encounters, not an alphabetical key or (Lord no) Roman numerals.

Step 5: Stock The Dungeon. Now that you have the map for your dungeon (based on your scenario and setting you've chosen for that scenario), you key the dungeon with your notes of what will be found at each and every encounter area. This is the "meat" of dungeon design...the map is just the skeleton, and without the guts and muscle and sinew, it's not yet an adventure proper.

Moldvay identifies four forms of "contents" for encounter areas, and I find these useful categories for design. ALSO, while I don't determine contents of encounter areas randomly (as Moldvay suggests), I do place them in the same proportions given by his random chart:

• Monster (1-in-3 encounter areas): these are NPCs that are likely to be antagonistic towards exploring adventurers and who are combat-worthy and inclined to fight if provoked.
• Trap (1-in-6 encounter areas): these are obstacles and hazards designed to damage, delay, confuse, or inconvenience players.
• "Special" (1-in-6 encounter areas): these are anything not a "trap" or straightforward "monster." It could be a special (modified or non-book) monster, a magical effect of some kind (healing pools, teleportation gates, magic mouths, etc.) non-hostile NPCs (hostages that might be rescued or hired to join the group), riddles and tricks, etc.
• Empty (1-in-3 encounter areas): an encounter area devoid of Monsters, Traps, and Specials. It does not mean a literally "empty" chamber; it can still invite interaction (players may search it for traps, secret doors, etc.), and still take real game time from players determined to give it a thorough going over. But these areas are necessary places of respite from the stresses and danger of the dungeon, and I don't recommend going without.

It should be understood that these proportions are guidelines, not hard/fast rules. That being said, I always try to hew close to these proportions as they give a nice rhythm of play in practice. Since you'll only get perfect proportionality in dungeon designs that feature encounter areas in multiples of six, some rounding often occurs. For me, I tend to round the number of "empty" and "trap" areas DOWN while rounding "monster" and "special" encounter areas UP.

For example: given a 20 encounter area, I'd go with seven monsters, four specials, three traps, and six empties.

Treasure, of course, is equally important to stocking as danger, and as with types of encounter areas Moldvay's suggestions for treasure proportions aren't terrible (1-in-2 for monster encounters, 1-in-3 for trap encounters, 1-in-6 for empty encounters). Along with the proportion of encounter types, this indicates that slightly fewer than one-third of all encounter areas will have SOME sort of treasure present. For me, I prefer a slightly higher presence of treasure...something closer to 40+%, but this varies based on scenario and setting.

[please keep in mind that "treasure" takes many forms. If prisoners can be rescued for a reward, they are treasure. If the local magistrate has put a bounty on bugbear scalps, then bugbears become treasure. Etc. We are not just talking bags of gold and silver]

For AD&D, a game of adventure (in which players brave danger in pursuit of reward), treasure is the primary motivator, the "spur" that drives players to action. A steady drip-drip of treasure with the occasional discovery of a large cache, is the primary formula that keeps players on the move and willing to engage and struggle with the challenges of the dungeon environment.

At this point, we are done with Moldvay, and can speak to the concept of scale.

Each dungeon should be designed for a particular level of party; this is what I refer to as its "scale." Actually, it may be more precise to say a particular experience point total of individual player character. Often, you'll see an adventure designated as being for a specific level range...an adventure for levels 4th-6th, for example. They might as well say "for characters of roughly 22,000 x.p." which would yield PCs in the given level range (paladins and multi-class PCs being at the low end, druids and thieves at the high). Everything in the dungeon is scaled off this level range: the types of monsters used, the deadliness of traps present, and...most certainly...the amount of treasure to be found.

Scale is important. Reward should be commensurate with the degree of challenge faced by the players: too much treasure for too little challenge is too easy and leads to boredom and disenchantment, while too little treasure for too much challenge leads to frustration and resentment; both are undesirable. Your campaign will have adventure sites (i.e. "dungeons") scaled to various levels...some low-level, some high...but you must strive to be consistent with your scales. It is fine for high level adventurers to take on a low-level dungeon, wiping it out 'on a lark.' But they should find the takings therein to be of dubious value and not worth the energy expended. Likewise, it is just dandy to have high level "killer" dungeons in your game that players should (rightly) shun until they feel strong enough to tackle them...they provide incentives for their ambition with the promise of rich reward.

In practice, I've found that a 30 encounter adventure should yield (in total) treasure sufficient to advance PCs of the designated number and experience range one level. For determination of gold piece value needed, I always use the fighter advancement table.

For example: a 30 encounter dungeon scaled for 5 characters of levels 5th-7th should yield a total treasure of roughly 175,000 gold pieces in value. With regard to magic items, I look at their gold piece (i.e. sale) value for this calculation.

Dungeon of fewer or more encounter levels get proportionally less or more treasure. For example, one with 15 encounters would have only HALF the treasure (in gold piece value) needed to advance the party one level. Dungeons with 60 encounters would give players enough x.p. (in gold) to achieve TWO levels...which is probably not the same as just doubling the treasure amount. If that dungeon for five PCs of level 5th-7th had 60 encounters, it would need 450,000 g.p. because the amount of x.p. needed to get one fighter from 6th level to 8th is 90K, not 60K. 

Why do I scale based on 30 encounter areas? Time...real world, actual time. It takes time for players to play the game...to explore dungeons, to participate in combats. In practice, I find a rate of three to five encounters per solid hour of play to be average, with about 12 encounters being the practical (max) upper limit for a four hour play session (9-11 being more usual). Smaller groups of players can be more agile in their decision making, but larger groups of players have more resources to throw at encounters...speed at which players get through a dungeon is tied largely to experience (with the game) and group dynamics (leadership, organization). Also, DMs should understand that the longer a session goes on, the more resources are expended by the players, the fewer resources they have at their disposal, and the slower and more cautious they become.

So 30 encounter areas can take three to five game sessions to fully explore (depending on the quality of your players and the length of your game sessions). This could be a month or more of play depending on how often you run games (we'll talk scheduling in a later installment). And a couple more things to keep in mind:

1. It is rare for player to recover every last scrap of treasure from a dungeon. More than just "missing" things, players will tend to abandon a dungeon for greener pastures at some point...mainly because it feels "picked over" with too much challenge for too little reward remaining. And that's okay! We want players to have agency and letting them walk is a part of the AD&D game.
2. We (Dungeon Masters) want players to advance in level. It is an imperative for our game. Leveling up allows designers to expand the scope of what we do, breaking out bigger challenges, more ferocious monsters, more extravagant treasures. Allowing the PCs to level expands what we, DMs, can do with the game.

As far as scaling challenges/danger to players, this is as much an art form (refined in practice) as the distribution of treasure. With regard to traps and hazards, are you considering the player characters' ability to circumvent these things? It's not really appropriate to include half a dozen poison encounters when the party cleric is under 7th level (and thus has no access to neutralize poison). Stone to flesh is a spell only available to magic-users of 12th level so petrifaction becomes, effectively, a death sentence for mid-level parties...these are things to consider. Consider also potential hit points of PCs when assigning damage for traps: A 50' pit drop may not kill a 6th level fighter, but it can deplete hit points enough that another fight or two will finish the poor brute; damage accumulates over time, after all.

With regard to monsters and their placement, these will largely be determined by the scenario and setting you chose at the beginning. If the adventure involves invading a stone giant stronghold, the opponents will probably be stone giants (duh) and their pets and allies. This by itself should suggest the proper scale of the dungeon you're designing. It might sound cool to have the players sneak into the fortress of a lich or demon lord, but they're not going to be doing that before they hit double-digits in terms of level!

If you review the Dungeon Random Monster Level Determination Matrix on page 174 of the DMG, you'll see that every dungeon level has a particular range of "monster levels" (designated as 1-10, or I-X). When considering the scale of a dungeon, I use "equivalent level of the dungeon" the same as the average PC level of the adventure I'm designing. Thus, an adventure for 7th level PCs would see the bulk of their monster encounters come from charts IV-VI, with only few encounters being outside this range (and with reduced or increased numbers, depending on whether or not you're talking greater or lesser charts). Treasure types of monsters (given in the Monster Manual) can be key indicators for treasure distribution (both placement and amounts), and can serve as 'red flags' to the beginning dungeon designer.

[if I find myself creating a "slime themed" dungeon with all the monsters being puddings, jellies, and oozes, I'm going to have a pretty hard time justifying much in the way of treasure placement, for example]

These are the nuts-and-bolts of dungeon design, the elementary building block that is the foundation of the Dungeons & Dragons game. There are, of course, other types of adventure, but exploration of dangerous sites in pursuit of treasure is the MAIN form that game play takes in AD&D. Even the old Dragonlance modules, heavily railroaded story acs that they were, made sure to include at least one dungeon in each of their 14 published adventures. If you don't like exploring dungeon, well, there are a LOT of other RPGs on the market that are not called Dungeons & Dragons. 

We'll get into other types of adventures in a later post.

Just Another Tomb

Well, that took longer than anticipated.

Catching up on my blog reading Sunday, I happened across this post from Joseph Manola about a certain dungeon design challenge put forth by Patrick over at False Machine (whose site I don't peruse as often as I probably should). While I like a good blog-tastic challenge as much as the next dude, after reading the criteria I figured this particular one wasn't really for me: not only was I hopelessly late to the party (it was supposed to be completed a couple weeks before), and there's nothing really "art-punk" about me. Hell, I had to find a definition and visit a bunch of other web sites just to figure out what that term is supposed to mean!  SO...soft pass. 

Then my players got TPK'd fighting kobolds and I needed a new adventure.

Since Dyson's map was still staring me in the face from these open tabs on my laptop, I kept looking at the thing, analyzing the layout, seeing if it would suggest a scenario. And, of course (eventually) one did...and as the map was already drawn (and map-making is really my achilles heel when it comes to this D&D stuff) I figured I might as well use it. So I ended up kind of doing the challenge after all.

No, it's not artistic or "punk;" I am a total hack of a writer with nary an original bone in my body. Most of my adventure ideas come from books or movies I've seen over the years (I seldom draw on adventure modules, preferring instead the easier, lazier route of just running pre-made adventures). In this particular case, I drew on an old favorite of mine: the 1999 action film The Mummy. It pretty much has all the ingredients for a D&D adventure...monsters, magic, treasure, tombs, etc. 

The problem was: the map. Man, I puzzled over that thing for nearly two days before figuring out what various rooms were and how they interacted and whatnot. That was tough. That damn river. That giant chamber with the open pits. All that jazz. Plus it had to work for a small party of 1st level adventurers.

Anyhoo, I got it done, and we started the adventure last night. Although the party is in a bit of a pickle at the moment (the cleric failed at his attempt to turn the skeletons...jeez), I wouldn't say they're doing terrible. I mean, no one's died yet...

; )

This morning, I wrote up my notes in a bullet-point format in case anyone's interested in seeing how lame my adventures are (usually I just use a handful of notes on a spreadsheet). You can download the PDF from MediaFire here (do people still use MediaFire?) or you can simply read the text (posted below the map). I call it "The Tomb of Bendan Fazier." Cheers!

[oh, forgot to mention: this is for 1st edition AD&D; suitable for 5-7 1st level characters]

You know how long it took me to figure out
how to add numbers to this thing?
I am soooo lame!

THE TOMB OF BENDAN FAZIER 

The arid, windswept hills east of Akima are known as “the Tomblands” for it is said that the ancients buried many kings, wizards, and high priests among the dry rocks before the Great Reckoning. True or not, searching more than 600 square miles of wasteland for hidden sepulchers is a fools’ errand…and finding one not yet despoiled by treasure hunters is an even slimmer hope. 

But Tully the Dwarf knows one. 

1. Hall of Guardians

• The outer door was spiked shut (by Tully) from his last foray. Putrefying bodies of three companions (no treasure, gear hacked to pieces) lie scattered about the chamber. 
• 12 skeletons (HPs 4, MM p.87) programmed to kill any who enter the chamber; they will not pursue beyond this room. If turned they retreat to the river and are swept away. 
• A bricked up, secondary tunnel has been collapsed at its base by a curious troll (#7). 

2. Desecrated Chamber 

• The door to this room has been smashed open (by the troll at #7). 
• Wet, muddy footprints (identifiable by a ranger) gives evidence of the culprit. 
• Some scattered coins (D6 each of copper, silver, and electrum) indicate the place was looted. 

3. Alcove 

• Careful examination of this dark and dingy alcove finds an ancient bronze wheel set into the wall. 
• A bend bars roll is needed to move the wheel; multiple characters can combine their percentages for a better chance of turning it. On a roll of 00 (99+ with two individuals working, 98+ with three, etc.) the mechanism breaks. 
• Turning the wheel: a loud grinding, stone-on-stone sound echoes in the distance as the mechanism causes the false wall at #5 to lower into the floor. 

4. Hall of Glory 

• Doors to this chamber are stone and difficult to move (normal open doors roll). 
• Each column holds a torch sconce with an ancient torch that may be lit. 
• The eastern wall depicts a fantastic painting showing the reign of Bendan Fazier over an agricultural people, using his wand to conjure monsters and his staff to smite skulls. He doesn’t appear to have been a nice person. 

5. Rod Room 

• Three rods of black metal lay in a heap on the floor; each is about 18’ long and weigh 70#. 
• The southern wall is of different stone than the rest of the chamber; it can be lowered with the mechanism at #3. 

6. Bridge 

• The bridge of ancient wood and rusted metal is rickety but only collapses if more than 150# tries to cross at once. 
• Slots allowing for the insertion of three rods (from #5) reinforce the bridge so that there is no chance of collapse. 
• A rusted iron ladder will disintegrate, dropping any would be climber unceremoniously to the beach below (1d4 damage). The subterranean river is exceptionally cold; its current is sluggish. 

7. Troll Den 

• A river scrag (HPs 27, MM2 p.121) makes its lair here; it wears a silver necklace (120gp) as a bracelet. 
• There is only a 20% chance the creature is here, but it will return D4 turns after a party starts poking around its possessions. Any time the party encounters the river, there is a 25% chance the troll is fishing (submerged) nearby; it will be drawn to their light and sound (surprising 4 in 6). 
• The scrag’s collection of treasure includes five ceramic jars containing 400cp each (each weighs 50#), another containing 250ep (30# weight), an iron strong box (minimal rust) with 500sp, and a dagger +1 used to pick its teeth. 

8. Antechamber of the Sun 

• Massive doors of polished metal greatly reflect light sources, illuminating the chamber. 
• A sun-shaped depression over the obvious key hole allows the door to be opened with the sun key (#9). 
• Attempts to pick the lock sets off an ancient fire trap (1d4+12 damage, save for half). 

9. Hall of Keys 

• Each of the three statues in this chamber portrays a young woman standing at attention with an elaborate headdress (snake, dog, and owl); around each statues neck hangs a metal symbol attached to a rotting leather thong (sun, moon, and star)…keys to areas #8, #11, and #12, respectively. 
• These are caryatid columns (HPs 22, FF p.18); each will animate ONLY if the key is removed from around its neck. Attacks will be focused on the person who holds the necklace. 
• The tapestry at the chamber’s end may be illuminated by a torch placed in the empty sconce near it; it depicts the funerary ceremonies of Bendan Fazier, including the tomb’s construction, his mummification, and the sacrifice of slave workers in the subterranean river that flows past this very chamber. 

10. Hall of the Demesne 

• A globe of continual light (L12) illuminates this magnificent chamber. 
• The floor is an incredible mosaic depicting the realm once controlled by Bendan Frazier: a region north of Akima, including the Akima river and its main tributaries. The image is punctuated by hundreds of sparkling precious stones, cut and set within the image (350 gems worth 10gp each; diligent work can pry up five stones per turn of effort). 
• The map is oriented with “north” towards the eastern wall; the rivers tributaries are made to appear to be flowing out of the three open pits along that wall. 

11. Room of Preparation 

• This level is reached by dropping down one of the 20’ deep open pits in #10. All the mummification equipment was destroyed long ago, its pieces scattered on the floor amongst the shredded crumbling pages of Bendan Fazier’s tomes and scrolls. Empty torch sconces line the walls. 
• The locked metal door in the southwest can be opened with the moon key (#9); it radiates both magic and evil. Anyone inserting the key into the lock must save versus spells to resist the impulse to immediately attack the other party members (attempts to pick the lock have the same effect). The madness leaves the character after one turn. 
• Engraved in the door is a three-line verse in an ancient, dead language. Translated it reads: My Tomb Lies Beyond/Those Who Would Desecrate It/My Doom Will Suffer. 

12. Tomb of Bendan Fazier 

• The chamber contains a rotting wooden chest containing 800gp (chest will break if moved), a metal box (with 100pp), and a large stone sarcophagus. The last may only be opened by using the star key (#9); a combined strength of 24 is needed to move the lid which is carved with another three-line verse: My Spirit Has Flown/Yet My Flesh Remains And Will/Rain Vengeance On Thee. 
• A mummy lies within the sarcophagus. A scarab of protection fastens his funeral garment; one hand clutches his wand of conjuration (8 charges), the other his staff of striking (4 charges). His death mask is a mix of gold and precious jade with cut emerald eyes (3500gp value). Removing the mask reveals a horrible rotting face with wriggling green worms crawling in and out of its orifices. The remains, now a Son of Kyuss (HPs 19, FF p. 83) animates and attacks; all characters in the chamber must immediately save against magic or flee in terror. 
• In the northeast corner, an ancient bronze ladder leads to a trapdoor in the ceiling which may be pushed open to allow access to #10. The trapdoor can only be opened from below. 

NOTE: Tully the Dwarf (a second level thief) is a middle-aged dwarf of hardy constitution (15 hit points!) and sour disposition. He brooks no nonsense, but is willing to cut PCs in for an even share of the treasure (he has no choice as he can’t face the tomb dangers alone). He has leather armor, a broadsword and dagger, a stout pack mule, torches, rope, and a couple flasks of oil. His main concern is finding a cleric to take care of the damn skeletons! He has a weathered map to the tomb that he keeps on him (under his armor) at all times.

A Note of Positivity

This morning I was feeling good, then I started feeling down, then I realized how blessed my life truly was, then I heard some news that made me depressed, then I read an old email from someone whose life I'd touched with my Not So Humble blogging, then I started thinking about how damn angry and petty I've been lately and I started feeling like a shit-heel.

So I decided to write something.

Blogger has been a great boon to my life. Not only has it provided me with a creative outlet...something that I personally need desperately, and (logistically) have a hard time getting...but it has allowed me to become part of a community of folks who share my interests and give me the space to communicate. Not to mention I get plenty of great ideas and good reads from them.

Of course, there's the whole book/game writing thing that's come from writing this blog. I can't even begin to measure the amount of joy I've received from publishing my own work. It's right up there with the joy and pride I take in my own children (the main reason I'm not doing more writing is that I prioritize my kids over myself...usually). Anyway, blogger is responsible for that opportunity as well.

Long time readers know I've often used my blog to blather on about my politics, theology, socialist values, and New Age-y crazy stuff. Some of those probably wonder why I haven't mentioned anything in the last 12 months regarding the state of my country, our last general election, our sitting president, or the direction my government has taken in 2017. There's good reason for that: I decided a while back that I didn't want to discuss (i.e. "vent") any of it, when it wouldn't accomplish anything constructive. Regarding my feelings (and who cares about those?): suffice is to say that I am deeply, deeply disappointed...and mainly disappointed with my fellow Americans. 

But no one wants to hear that. It's bad enough that a man so blessed in so many aspects of his life (i.e. me) should take the time to badmouth game designers he's never met.

So, I don't blog about that and will continue to attempt to not blog about that, unless I can find a way to be constructive. However, I wonder if I should extend the same policy to blogging regarding my game and design thoughts. The "if you can't say anything nice, say nothing at all" policy. Certainly, I have done a bit of that already: there are some designers, publishers, and bloggers who are noticeably absent from the looooong list of folks I read and write about. For these people, I have taken the stance that (assuming there is "no such thing as Bad Publicity") I will not be giving them ANY publicity, of any sort. Been doing that for years.

[yes, that means that if I DO write about you...even in a "negative" way...that you are NOT on my personal black list. Take that as something!]

But maybe I should extend that policy to all my criticism. Cut the bile out of the blog. Only talk about the positive that I see -- only ADD TO the existing designs out there, not ridicule them, or tear them down, or point out "flaws" that only I perceive. 

Or maybe I should just do something "fluffy." I was reading Autokratik's blog yesterday, discussing his original reasons for starting this #RPGaDAY thing that some people do in August (I've never participated in it) and "sappy" as it might be (his word), I find that I really like the overall vibe of the thing. I'm not sure there ever was a "negative undercurrent" within the hobby itself -- perhaps I didn't frequent the correct forums -- but it's not a bad idea to shine a light on some of our positive thoughts/feelings on the hobby. Participating in such a project might be a way to try out "no negativity" for a month.

Just to see how much I can stomach.

Of course, I'm already three days behind (it's the 3rd of August as I write this). I suppose I could back date my other entries in blogger to give the illusion that I'm time traveling back to the start of the contest. Yeah, I think I'll give it a shot...it couldn't be any worse than the April A-Z Challenge. And I'll try to be as positive as possible.

Really. I promise!

: )

Not sure why this didn't show up in color.

A-Z Reflection Post

I finished the A-Z April "blog challenge" last month, and I'm offering these thoughts for those for the folks who run the thing (per their request):

Probably won't do it again.

This was my second go-around with the challenge (the last time was in 2011...five years ago!), and I wanted to see if I could "still do it." As before, I was able to complete the thing. The strategy for me is simple: think of a theme, and figure out your 26 theme-related alpha topics prior to starting. After that, it's all about grinding out the posts.

"Grind." That's the best way to describe it. My posts were, for the most part, lackluster and uninspired...forced, really. Most of the times when I blog, there's something I'm itching to write about...stuff that keeps me up at 3am (not that I sleep anyway). I didn't feel that way this time. Perhaps I chose a poor topic...certainly I chose an "easy" one for a gaming blog. Maybe it's just the "other stuff" in my life was getting me down. I don't know.

What I do know is that the A-Z challenge felt like an endurance race this year, and I'm not really built for endurance...at least not when it comes to creativity. At least not this year. I did it, mainly 'cause I dislike being categorized as a "quitter" (I fully intend to come back to all my unfinished projects at SOME point in my life) and because it didn't take a ton of effort. If the challenge had been "write 1000 words on every daily topic" ...well, that might have broken my resolve.

As it was, I "phoned it in" and it still felt like a grind.

SO...probably won't be participating in the future. I've had two shots at it, finished both, and now will return to my usual bloggishness. Maybe my tune will change in the future...check in with me in another five years.

Didn't know where else to put this.

Comes Chaos

OKAY. I spent a bit of time at lunch today getting a little stinky-drinky and writing more bad JuJu about Paraguayan ignorance (and drawing parallels with certain presidential campaigns in the home country)...but I'm almost 100% certain that no one wants to read more of that kind of nonsense.

So let's talk about B/X-related nonsense. And, no, not superheroes.

Waaaaaay back in January, I mentioned I was going to get in on this whole B/X Campaign Challenge thing, set up by Mr. James V. West. I also said I figured I could knock-out a 64 page supplement in about 64 days, giving myself (approximately) till the end of March to get it done. Seeing as how it's been seven days since the last time I worked on the thing (just checked...March 4th) people may be wondering how is the project progressing?

Pretty good. I'm at 53 pages (formatted)...a bit more than 36,000 words without counting headers and page numbers. Since I'm aiming for about 58-60 (to make room for illustrations, a cover leaf, and table of contents), I'm pretty close to completion.

It's always that last bit that's the bitch, ain't it?

Actually, that's NOT why I've stalled. For a "campaign book," I started to find there was surprisingly little campaign to the thing...mainly a collection of rules and notes about how to inject a little crazy into one's standard B/X game. I started to think maybe I needed a bit more setting, a bit less system. And then, of course, I got distracted with other brainstorms...

But I'm digressing. As I wrote back on the 22nd (when I was first considering the challenge), the idea I had was an incredibly derivative one, and it still is....specifically, I am adapting the old Warhammer Realm of Chaos books (Slaves to Darkness and The Lost and the Damned) to the B/X game system, an idea that I once thought was pretty ridiculous. Also, not a terribly original idea, considering folks like Steven A. Cook have already done similar work (his Hordes of Chaos is a nice little "monster manual" designed for use with Labyrinth Lord).

But whatever...it's only a 64 page book. It's specifically designed for use with B/X (which everyone loves and now has access to, thanks to the release of the PDFs). It files all the serial numbers off anything that might be considered IP by other game companies. And it's written for a B/X system...for a game of exploration and treasure hunting...not a war-game.

And it does have a setting...one that could easily be expanded with additional books, if I was so inclined.

Slaves to Darkness.
So good, I own two copies.

The fact of the matter is Slaves to Darkness and The Lost and the Damned are damn masterworks. They have terrible, disgusting, magnificent, tragic themes. They are well-designed (for their time and their purpose) and are filled with beautiful, terrible, horrible, awesome artwork. They are classics that most buffs of dark fantasy (and dark fantasy games) should have on their shelves. I own physical copies of both, having paid an exorbitant price for one after many years of searching.

They are also fairly unplayable as they are. While the fluff from the books have penetrated the Warhammer universe for nearly three decades (Slaves was written in 1988 and last time I checked a 40K Chaos Codex they were STILL recycling quotes from its most excellent pages), the Warhammer game long ago dropped the systems found within their pages, keeping only the themes. Mordheim's chaos war band was a pretty poor substitute for a champion-led retinue of miscreants and mutants.

SO, because I love these books...their themes (which simply emphasize the dark spaces in the human heart to terrible extremes) and their mutants and their monsters and their madness...because I do love them, I've adapted them to a system that I love (B/X) so that they can see play at the table. They deserve to see play at the table.

And I find the setting I've designed (that I'm thinking I might want to detail in greater depth) so intriguing that I'd really like to run a campaign set in it, despite having voiced (only a few months ago) a longing to try a Holmes-style campaign. B/X...sucking me back in! Seducing me to the darkest of dark sides!

Anyhoo, it's almost done and my intention is to do my own artwork for it (not sure how that's going to go...) and sell it for a pittance in electronic form. That's my intention; we'll see what happens. But regardless, I've got to finish the writing first.

Hopefully by the end of the month.
; )

Money for WotC

Much as it pains me to admit it, I have just now...this very minute...transferred some of my hard earned ducats to Wizards of the Coast via DriveThruRPG. Yes, as a publisher of DTRPG, I realize that not ALL of the money will go to WotC, but even funding them in a minor fashion raises a bit of bile to mouth.

Still, it can't be helped. I needed a copy of the B/X Expert Rulebook for reference and my copy is 7000 miles northwest of my current location. $4.99 was a small (if irritating) price to pay to add the PDF to my hard drive, considering that I honestly have zero idea when will be the next time I make it back to Seattle. Hopefully before July, but I won't hold my breath.

Should have brought my copy to Paraguay.

Some might (perhaps) be wondering what was so immediately necessary that I needed to get my hands on a copy of the book. What could be so all-fired important? Welllll...as I mentioned last Friday, there is this little B/X Campaign Challenge thing going on and, well, I've got an idea for an offering. No, it's not a great idea, but it's an idea, and I'm in the mood to nurture such a project at the moment. Tuesdays are still poor days for me to actually do any writing, but at least I can download the reference materials I need (I already have my copy of Moldvay with me...I refuse to travel anywhere without it...), and start working up an outline.

But really, really, truly...I don't plan on spending too much time on this project. "6.4 months" seems waaaay too long to devote to something that's only supposed to be 64 pages long (assuming it includes random tables and empty spaces for illustrations). 64 days is probably a better timeline for me...I mean, I should be able to write more than a page a day. That would give me a hard deadline of March 29th, or March 30th if I start my count tomorrow. Hell, if I throw out Leap Year, I suppose I could just give myself till the end of March...that seems easy enough.

Sure. End of March.

Updates will follow, of course. Hmmm...maybe I'll do my own illustrations for a change. That should be...well, terrible. But, hey: New Year, new challenges, right?

Sure...why not?
; )

Adaptation

Welp, it's January 22nd, 2016. Probably about time I got back to writing.

Apologies for the delay. Travel, holidays, birthdays (my son's), and playoff football-induced dementia have all contributed to my utter slack in blogging...hell, writing in general. I've been "taking it easy" (i.e. "being lazy") and I'm a bit out of practice with simply getting up and putting words down.

Probably something that requires a new resolution for a new year.

Anyhoo...there's lots of ideas that have been floating in my head the last couple-few weeks, enough that I even bothered to write some down in my notebook (so as not to forget them while awaiting the return of my discipline). More Star Wars thoughts (of course)...the family made it back to theater for the third time, though I'm pretty sure that's the last time I'l need to see the film again (I've got everything I need to from a second viewing in English). Blood Bowl, too, as relates to the NFL play-offs (I was very angry with the Seahawks' last game of the season, though not for reasons one might expect). Also, thoughts on the 15th century, World War I, Flash Gordon, and Ars Magica. And, of course, I still need to get around to reviewing Alexis Smolensk's The Dungeon's Front Door (though truth-be-told, I'm probably going to need to give it a second read to remember my thoughts from November). Then of course there's a return to other serial topics that I've started and neglected...

Well, for a change I'm going to (somewhat) move away from my usual arbitrary "thoughts o the day" and instead look at that thing so many of my readers love and hold dear: B/X. A few weeks ago, James V. West (comic book artist and game designer...his 2002 freebie, The Pool, is credited with inspiring many of the indie games that came out of the early years of The Forge) suggested a personal challenge of designing a 64-page book that could "fit" with B/X...a campaign setting, bestiary, etc...something that would feel right at home with the 64 page box sets of the 70s and 80s. And because he wanted to make sure that he didn't hem-and-haw over the thing he set himself a hard due date of July 12th...a timeline of 6.4 months, beginning with a January 1st start date.

Others have since picked up Mr. West's gauntlet (Brian Scott, Reese Laundry, and James Mishler to name a few) and there's even a G+ community set-up for the thing. All in all, I think it's a pretty cool idea...there was a time (a couple-three years back) when I thought the main way *I* was going to end up making any money in the gaming hobby was by writing "campaign setting" books...that's all I was doing back in the days of Land of Ice, Land of Ash, Goblin Wars, etc. Nowadays, I'm not so sure that's the way to go (and I've pretty much allowed all that setting material to fall into neglect), but I still get a kick out of seeing other folks' creativity when it comes to tweaking and re-skinning basic D&D to fit a specific campaign profile. As I've noted before, B/X is a wonderful chassis on which to build one's personal fantasy vehicle.

I should note that I haven't thrown my own hat into the ring for this little challenge...I'm a little late to the party and, well, I've got a lot on my plate at the moment. But I am more than a little tempted. I've been away from B/X-proper for so long that...well, suffice is to say I am tempted. Heck, I even have a bit of an idea (though an incredibly derivative one). And I'm not sure if it would really be any fun for anyone but me. Hmmm...

BUT readers who are interested should definitely see what they can put together in the next six months. Even if you're already working on some sort of 300 page FHB monstrosity already, try paring it down to a more streamlined basic form. That kind of design exercise is pretty useful (in fact, one of the 2016 projects I'm working on is that 48-page something-or-other that I thought I'd kicked to the curb...more on this later). And after all, you can always go back and finish off your "advanced edition" later, including all the extra rules and bloat and whatnot you feel is necessary to make it complete.

Hmm...that probably sounds unkind ("bloat") or, at least, feisty. I don't really mean it as such...a playful jab. I'm actually starting to come back to the idea that these games of ours require as large a page count as they require, and needn't be limited to arbitrary numbers like 64 or 48 or even 100+. No, I'll probably never dig on something in the 400+ range (not in one volume anyway), but...well, that's a different post for a separate topic.

F. Maybe I will do up a setting book for this challenge thingy. At least to get my pen flowing again.
; )

48 Pages to Glory

There have been many excellent designers who've worked on Dungeons & Dragons over the years, from the initial concepts of Dave Arneson all the way down to...well, to whoever is working on the 5E design now. For the most part, it's taken a village to put together any version of D&D, even in the earliest editions: play testers, artists, editors, layout folks, etc. all had to come together to make a finished product that people could pick up and play. Singling out individuals as being "more valuable" is a little silly because none of 'em did it alone.

Be that as it may, I still hold four names in higher esteem than the others for their work. They are:

Arneson, Gygax, Holmes, and Moldvay

...and if that is terribly unfair of me, I apologize. It is what it is, and I have spent at least a little time criticizing each of them over the years for various design "missteps." Usually gently, but no one's perfect.

I have, at this point in my life, written a few game books...books heavily influenced by the work of these four men. My B/X Companion was done in the style of Moldvay's 64 page rule book, and my Five Ancient Kingdoms was written in the small, three volume fashion of the original D&D books. As I begin my newest project (stupidly, ridiculously...I have so many other irons in the fire), I set my eyes on the work of the one author whose work I've never used at the table, the one man who may have done more singly than any D&D designer in history, with the sole exception of E. Gary Gygax:

That would be John Eric Holmes.

Holmes Basic is a 48 page masterpiece. There, I've said it. Previously, I've referred to it as the "badass edition" of Dungeons & Dragons (that's meant as a compliment); these days, I don't think I've gone far enough in my praise. It is exquisitely concise, and provides near everything needed for a game. Well, a game that goes to 3rd level...but there's certainly enough here to build upon (as many folks have). I've seen many D&D campaigns (my own and others) fail to chart past the 3rd level.

What Holmes did in 48 pages is amazing. Of course, he was a brain surgeon...I think most folks would expect a bit of brilliance. Personally, I'm no rocket scientist...heck, I'm not even employed at the moment...but even so, I want to take a swing at doing this, doing what Holmes did: writing an adult fantasy role-playing game in 48 pages. That doesn't sound terribly hard does it? Even for someone of my hack writing skills?

Of course, it won't be a retroclone of Holmes...the Blueholme Prentice Rules already does a fine job of cloning John Eric. No, this will be using that "different paradigm" I was starting to talk about last month. And it will be a game designed to emulate (if possible) the feeling/style of those "good old days" I was waxing on about a couple days ago...something I want to play, in other words. Though I admit that trying to convey style AND rules in 48 pages is a pretty tall order. Really tall.

Yeah, maybe it's a pipe dream. But I'm going to give it a shot. We'll see what happens.

The plan is to go down swinging.

If any Holmes knowledgeable folks can hip me to the proper font and type size for such a project (assuming an emulation of style), I'd really appreciate the information. Not sure what I'll do about artwork at this point, though Holmes himself only used 14 or 15 small pieces (including maps). Probably more important that I just leave some blank spaces for insertion of illustrations.

More to come (I hope)!

A Reason to Kill (Addendum)

Well, I can’t sleep. Which is unusual because I can usually sleep anywhere at the drop of a hat. However, I either drank too much coffee today or (more likely) I’ve just been wound too tight because of the stress this whole trip has caused me. Anyway, I might as well throw some follow-up thoughts to my last post.

When I say, look at the conflict you want to portray as central and build around it, I’m not (necessarily) saying you need to write “Raising Kids: The Role-Playing Game” or something. And I’m not saying you need to give up combat systems, either.  I’m just saying:

1. You need a way to engage the players besides “ooo, this is a neat setting (or story/plot/arc) that I want to explore, “ and
2. Make that “engagement thing” central in your design priority.

And I’m saying it to myself as well.

All that interesting exploration stuff will appear (if you want it to), in the proper amount, IF you can engage the players. At least, that’s my theory.

Look at the movie Star Wars. I’m sure most of the readers of this blog have watched the original trilogy a couple times. In the first movie, what have we got for a driving conflict? We’ve got this small band of misfits/adventurers fighting against a tyrannical impossible force, yeah? One ship, half a dozen characters (a couple of whom are noncombatants) against hundreds of soldiers, fighters, the Death Star, Darth Vader…even when they get “the Rebels” involved, it still boils down to the main characters’ actions (those other X-Wings are just set-dressing pyrotechnics for all they accomplish in the assault).

The challenge here is finding your courage. It’s something most B/X players might relate to.

The second movie (Empire) is different. Now, the characters are certifiable war heroes. They’ve proven their courage. The war (and the fighting of said war) is backdrop for the real story, the real challenge, namely “can you sacrifice what you hold dear for something that will bring you greater satisfaction?”

[Huh?]

Or something like that (it’s after 2am, cut me some slack, folks). Let’s look at the characters:

Han Solo: cherishes his freedom. Is he willing to give it up to begin a relationship with the princess? This is his conflict through the whole film. In the end, he literally loses his freedom in semi-permanent fashion.

Leia: cherishes her role in the Rebellion. Is she willing to give it up to begin a relationship with a scoundrel/rogue like Solo?

Luke: has achieved his childhood dreams of becoming a fighter pilot, joining the rebellion, and becoming a respected hero. Is he willing to give that up (his status as a “great warrior”) to pursue a more mystic journey towards peace and knowledge on the Jedi path? He finds he can only meet the sacrifice halfway, and loses a piece of himself because of it.

Lando: has become a responsible, respected (and apparently wealthy) leader. Is he willing to give it up to “do the right thing,” fighting against the Empire?

[yes, Lando is a main character…he’s like the dude who shows up to the gaming table late and has to bring his PC in halfway through the session]

All these characters in the story face this challenge, and they all meet it with varying degrees of success. It makes for a richer (in terms of character) movie, if not one with the same “wa-hoo” as the first film. It’s still fantasy adventure, it still has fights, but the fights aren’t the focus of the action. That’s not the challenge that’s engaging the protagonists.

Lukas had a lot of disagreement with the director of the 2^nd film, by the way (and was unhappy with the profits compared to the costs of the over-budget opus), and returned to his “original recipe” when doing Return of the Jedi. The result feels a touch slap-dash as it ties up the character development of the 2^nd while sticking with the action formula of the 1^st film: a small band of heroes facing overwhelming odds (Han and Leia against “a whole legion of troops,” Lando against a Death Star and a thousand fighters, Luke against giant monsters, armies of goons, and two Sith Lords).

[*sigh* how many days has it been since my last post mentioning Star Wars? Re-start the tally tracker]

None of this, by the way, is about saying one path/film is better. I’m using these films as examples of potential RPGs due to the way they model inherent parts of RPGs (fantasy adventure + multiple protagonists). If they were RPGs, not films, you could see that film #2 is either “heavily drifted” (to use a Forge term), or else a different game system from films #1 and #3. Film #1 is definitely the most “Old School” of the three: you have a main adventure site, you have encounters with bad guys, you have challenges to overcome, etc. Film #3 is still pretty “Old School,” though with a little extra “role-playing” thrown in (Film #1 doesn’t have much role-playing, only the jocular “in-character” banter).

Film #2 (if transported to the tabletop) has a different set of rules and objectives.  No game role-plays “training”(well, except for Ars Magica). Few RPGs deal with player-to-player romance.  But in the end, it’s neither the Dagobah Boot Camp nor the sweet-sweet-love that is the point of play…the challenge is the characters’ own inner journey/transformation. The shooting of things is pretty much an afterthought.

The first RPG I can recall relegating combat to a (very) subordinate system was the vastly underrated, out-of-print game Maelstrom. Maelstrom (of which I thought I'd blogged before but apparently haven't) is about as fantasy adventure as you can get and is all about the exploration…I’d like to read (or write) books on the game’s setting. Unfortunately, that doesn’t give a GM much direction as to what to do with the thing, and there’s no engagement that comes from that exploration (*sigh*). BUT the Story Engine’s neat game system (and the thing that makes Maelstrom one of the grandfather’s of narrativist RPGs) was it’s imperative that scenes must be about something, and players resolving the conflict inherent in the scene with a single roll, rather than using multiple die rolls to determine the effectiveness of individual actions (i.e. you didn’t roll “to hit;” you rolled to see if you were successful at the scene “objective”). It was all quite brilliant, in a meandering, primordial narrativist ooze kind-o-way.

*ahem* ANYway. Why am I even talking about this shit? Um…besides the fact that the ix-nay on exploration was kind of a (mild) epiphany this evening/morning? Well, I was just thinking about my son. We play a lot of “pretend” games together, including a lot of games with superheroes who “fight” bad guys…but, of course, D has been taught not to actually “fight” other children himself (except when pretending, natch), and often our games involve non-lethal conflict resolution. If someone gets “hurt” there’s usually a pause in play to have the doctor fix them (and to put the injured party in bed and feed ‘em soup, etc.). Sometimes the bad guys get talked into (or spontaneously decide) to become “good guys.” Sometimes everyone just wants to dance. We do a lot of things besides pretending to karate chop someone’s head is the point.

I’ve been working on two games the last month or so, and making good progress on both. One is a post-apocalyptic fantasy based on B/X that has a bunch of new rules designed to encourage more collaboration between players. The other game is A Very Fantasy heartbreaker that is my homage to Holmes Basic (in much the same way as 5AK was my homage to OD&D). The latter is aimed at a “younger” audience, and (I think) has a younger tone. No, not so young as my son (he’s three), but definitely more Susan Cooper than Michael Moorecock.

But I did ask my boy’s input and let him pick most of the monsters that would be included. And yet, as I write the game I keep thinking “neat as this innovative new combat system is (I wouldn’t mind using it in a B/X game)” do I really want to resolve conflicts with the sword all the time? And if the game is not about “battling evil” than what IS it about? Turning evil “from the Dark Side?”

[actually, I know for a fact that’s NOT what the game’s about, since it has a definite objective to play]

Anyhoo…more musings at 3am. Oh, look: they’re serving breakfast! (do they know it’s 3am?)

Yak at ya’ later.

Subclasses, Variants, and Filters (P. 3)

[continued from here...]

So, yeah: filters. What is an appropriate filter? Something that requires players to make a choice. Setting requirements that ask the question, "what are you willing to PAY to play this character?" Or rather, "are you willing to give up X, Y, and Z to have this particular concept?"

The basic classes already do this:

• Cleric: will you give up edged (better damage) weapons for some miscellaneous/healing magic and some ability against the undead?
• Fighter: will you give up any other special abilities for the use of all arms and armor, good HPs, and the best attack matrix?
• Magic-User: will you give up all arms, armor, and combat fortitude for a chance to gain fantastic power over the long haul?
• Thief: will you give up being mighty in combat for some sneaky skills?

Part of the trade-off for the basic classes is also with regard to one's expected role in the party. The cleric often seems over-powered for its class advantages, whether in AD&D (with its D8 hit dice and attack-oriented spells) or B/X (especially when using the default D6 damage)...at least, when compared to the cleric's rate of level advancement. But the cleric's player is also being asked the additional question: "Are you willing to take on the role of healer and cooperative/assisting party member in exchange for all these bennies?" The cleric character is generally the most "put-upon" of any party member, followed by either the fighter (expected to be the front-line combatant) or the thief (expected to walk point and disarm poison needles). The damn magic-user gets a "free pass" in most parties (and then bitches loudly that he's got "nothing to do").

The choices for the basic classes are BASIC choices. They define the role the player wants to take in an adventuring party. With exceptional variant classes, classes that "one-up" other classes, it's not enough to require a basic choice...an appropriate filter requires an EXCEPTIONAL choice.

For example, let's look at the AD&D ranger class: XP costs are about 10% higher (reasonable for any variant, in my opinion) plus the arbitrary ability score restrictions. Other penalties for taking the class include the following:

- Only receiving D8s for hit dice (but they receive 2D8 at 1st level giving them a better average HP total than equal level fighters up until 6th level..and their HD go up to eleven, not just nine)

- Must be of good alignment

- May not have hirelings until 8th level

- No more than three rangers may ever operate together at any time (because otherwise the entire party would consist of rangers?)

- May only own the goods and treasure they can carry upon their person and mount

In exchange for which they receive the following bonuses: gradually increasing bonus damage to giant-class creatures with includes such "giants" as goblins and orcs; bonuses to surprise; bonuses to resist surprise; tracking ability; druidic spells beginning at 8th level; magic-user spells beginning at 9th level; ability to employ magical scrying devices at 10th level; attraction of 2-24 loyal (unpaid!) henchmen at 10th level...said henchmen generally consisting of exceptional adventuring types and monsters (including copper dragons and storm giants!).

You know, a copper dragon mount carries a lot of treasure.

Assuming you're playing AD&D 1E sans the weapon specialization rules of the UA (and even rangers are allowed some weapon specialization), what's the real trade-off here? That your character has to be chaotic good instead of chaotic neutral? Other than the "no more than three rangers can operate together" clause, I see no real reason why all the fighting men of a (cooperative) party would not want to play rangers. I don't recall any PCs in my old campaigns hoarding so much treasure they needed a war galley to store it in (and why do you think portable holes were invented anyway?).

No...the restrictions on an obviously exceptional class are restrictions, but they ain't particularly stringent. Not enough to act as the filter I'm talking about.

Filters should have the following characteristics:

- they should be performable even at low (1st) level, making the class open to dedicated players

- they should be based on role-playing and/or player choice, not random dice roll

- they should be appropriate to and emphasize the class concept

- they should be a pain in the ass

And that is a pain in the ass for the player that wants to play the concept, not a pain in the ass for the rest of the players in the group. Filters should involve sacrifice for the player that wants to play the exceptional class, not a sacrifice for the other players. For example, it would be inappropriate for an assassin requisite to be "must kill a friend or ally in cold blood," when that would generally entice the PC to murder a fellow PC or one of her fellow's henchmen. See how that's not cool?

So what are some appropriate filters? Well, unfortunately, they're kind of setting specific...of course,  variant classes themselves are setting specific (including paladins in your fantasy world says something very specific about that world)...but most DMs will have to decide how "tight" a filter is needed for his or her own campaign. I suppose I could give some suggestions...but this would just be spit-balling. 

[oh, well...when have I ever balked at voicing a half-baked idea?]

Much Maligned

The thief-acrobat subclass of thief is a problematic one for a variety of reasons: it requires PCs to obtain a certain level (6th), it has a bunch of fiddly feet/inches based skills, it's written poorly...and yet just about every thief in my old AD&D campaign would eventually switch over to the thief-acrobat route once they had the required levels under their belt. Why? Because their concept of a thief was more in-line with the daring cat-burglar than the skulking pick pocket...plus you get to keep all the "cool" skills (backstabbing, moving silently, etc.) and picking up all this acrobatic nonsense. My campaign was absolutely filthy with thief-acrobats...and no one ever had a problem making the ability pre-requisites.

[as an aside, by 6th level the clerics can detect traps and the magic-user can knock locks, so what's lost in making the transition? See...not much of a SUBclass]

Now, as said, the variant is still problematic because of its level restriction...but if you re-wrote the class to start at 1st level (HINT: subtract 5 from each number in the leftmost column of the Thief-Acrobat Function Table in the Unearthed Arcana), what filters might you put in place to prevent all your aspiring thieves from jumping into the T-A archetype?

How about ALL of the following requirements:

1. Character must pay all starting gold to her instructor; part of her "schooling" will include some basic tools of the trade (generally, climbing gear, some pouches, and her two formal weapons...no armor). Thereafter, she must give one-half (or more) of all treasure found to her instructor between adventures, at least for the first three to five levels...acrobatic training is rigorous, and on-going teaching necessary for an apprenticeship period.
2. Character is restricted to staff and lasso as her weapons at first level (these take her two proficiency slots)...both are tools as much as weapons, and it is necessary to be as accustomed to them as to her own limbs.
3. Character must demonstrate her dedication to the craft by performing (or attempting to perform) at least one feat of daring in each session during the apprentice period. Such a death defying act might be a solo wall scale or over-head hang or any use of the acrobatic skill function. Failure to at least make a single attempt results in NO EXPERIENCE being earned for the session. Likewise, there's no respite from this penalty should "no appropriate opportunity" be presented; in the acrobat's mind, such an adventure might be deemed a waste of time and training! Once the apprentice period is over (after the first three to five levels) such demonstrations are unnecessary for advancement, but should have become a routine part of the player character's gameplay.

I'm sure I could think up some other appropriate filters for the paladin class (most involving vows to a Church or temple and based on the knightly trials of chivalric literature) and the others...but, then, you folks can probably do that, too, right?

: )

Hope this gives people some food for thought!