RPG Focus: 6th Edition Call of Cthulhu (2004)

"Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn."

This week, I want to take an Olde School look back on a terrifying classic, Call of Cthulhu, the seminal work in the field of Horror RPGs.

Named after H. P. Lovecraft's story of the same name and drawing upon the eponymous Cthulhu Mythos, Call of Cthulhu (or "CoC" for short) is mostly true to the source material as the PCs (aka "Investigators") take on the role of ordinary people struggling against various dark forces.  I love this setup, as the power level of the game presents real opportunities for true horror, as well as true (if potentially bleak) heroism.

While this discussion specifically covers the 6th Edition, Call of Cthulhu, published by Chaosium and powered by the Basic Role-Playing (BRP) game engine, has remained mostly unchanged over the years since the publication of the 1st Edition of Call of Cthulhu in 1981, which is a testament to the solidity of the BRP ruleset.  Indeed, CoC is one of the best and most influential of the second generation of roleplaying games.

Compared to the contemporaneous AD&D 1E, Call of Cthulhu is faster and simpler game.  It's not quite as streamlined as a modern design, but still easily playable and has a quick learning curve.  In true Olde School tradition, stats are randomly generated, though then there's a point distribution element, based on an Investigator's Intelligence and Education, for skills.  As you might expect, using the RAW some Investigators can have far more skill points than others, so for my own CoC games, I house rule that all Investigators start with the same number of skill points, regardless of Intelligence and Education scores.

With a good Game Master  (aka "Keeper"), the gameplay can be evocative, tense and terrifying as the Investigators explore the mysteries and face the challenges of the Cthulhu Mythos.  As I mentioned above, PCs are fragile (both mentally and physically) and I really like that this leads to more of a Sneak-and-Peak approach, rather than Search-and-Destroy.  This has influenced my campaigns such that the PCs' typical backup plan for any genre is to run away.

The book itself is filled with good advice and, unlike AD&D 1E, isn't written in High Gygaxian, so the writing is clear and to the point.  The book also has lots of neat tidbits to add color and atmosphere (such as a timeline of weird events), as well as random fun things.

So, if you're a roleplaying fan of Lovecraft or Horror generally, I'd suggest taking a look at this tried and true classic!

Movie Review: "Princess Mononoke (もののけ姫)" (1997)

This week, I wanted to give a shout out to a masterwork from Miyazaki Hayao (宮崎 駿), the greatest animated film director of all time, the amazing Princess Mononoke:

One of the most popular animated films in its native Japan, "Princess Mononoke" is an epic low fantasy jidaigeki (period drama) set in the Muromachi period.  Developed from Miyazaki's idea from the 1970s of a girl living in the woods with a monster, this film follows Ashitaka, the last Emishi prince, who slays a demon in order to protect his people but ends up cursed as a result.  The curse gives Ashitaka supernatural powers, but will spread through his body and eventually kill him.

Now, Ashitaka must voyage far to the west to discover where the demon came from and to face his destiny.  The young wanderer finds a land filled with chaos and becomes embroiled in a sinister and deadly conflict between gods, monsters, men and the Emperor.  With all sides out for blood, the prince must somehow "see with eyes unclouded by hate."

One of the greatest and most famous animated films of all time, "Princess Mononoke" was a huge critical and commercial success (briefly the highest-grossing film of all time in Japan, until overtaken by "Titanic") and greatly expanded the profile of Studio Ghibli in the West.  In addition to the gorgeously animated and eye popping visuals (approximately 144,000 cels were used in the film, of which Messr Miyazaki redrew parts of an estimated 80,000 cels!), "Princess Mononoke" stands out because of its imaginative, intricate and complex story.  Whilst the main plot covers the struggle between the protectors of an ancient forest and the humans who consume its resources, there are multiple factions with their own agendas.

However, what makes the film's story really stand out is that the story is not a simplistic tale of good and evil but contains many shades of grey as each faction fights for control of the future.  For example, Lady Eboshi, the presumptive villain of the piece, has liberated and given a new life to dozens of prostitutes and lepers.  Moreover, she genuinely cares about her people and wants the forest's resources to secure their wellbeing.

Many other characters are well realized and three dimensional too, even relatively minor ones.  This gives the places in the film a more grounded and lived in feeling.

Yet another thing that makes "Princess Mononoke" special is that, in an era where computer-generated imagery (CGI) is becoming dominant in animation, this film is a throwback to Old school Japanese style anime that is mostly traditional hand drawn animation.  Messr Miyazaki insisted that CGI be limited to 10% of the film.  Moreover, the computer animated parts are designed to blend in and support the traditional animation, and are mainly used to give the film a more live action feel, using images consisting of a mixture of CGI and traditional drawing.

Friends urged Messr Miyazaki to make "Princess Mononoke" before his health prevented him from making an action film and boy did the master deliver!  From the brisk opening scene through multiple battles and the thrilling climax, the action is crisp, clever and superbly choreographed.  And, more often than not, fights end in unexpected ways.

So, if you are a fan of Old School Japanese animation, low fantasy, Japanese history and/or interesting and outstanding stories, you owe it to yourself to watch the master at the top of his game in this film!

RPG Design: Artwork

This week, I wanted to discussed a hugely important but sometimes overlooked or skimped on element of creating tabletop role-playing games, Artwork:

While it is, of course, hugely fun to muse about game mechanics or other aspects of a rule set, if a game is to be more than just a thought experiment or a creative outlet, it needs to be played by people other than just the designer's own group.  However, with the advent of the internet and of desktop publishing, in addition to commercial products, there are literally thousands of FREE rule sets available nowadays!  Moreover, learning a new tabletop role-playing game is usually a pretty big ask, since it requires a significant investment of time and energy.

So, how to make some noise on the teh interwebs and to convince people to bother to take a look at a new rules set?  Like finding players, this problem is really about marketing, and perhaps the effective way to make a game stand out for a casual viewer is by adding good artwork to the game.

Of course, the definition of "good artwork" depends heavily both on a particular game and on personal taste but, at a fundamental level, IMHO "good artwork" must at least: 

• Be an artistic style that fits the intended flavor of the game, and
• Capture the spirit/mood of the genre/playstyle of the game.

On the artwork meter, I also award bonus points for a game having a distinctive artistic style, such as the amazing and evocative work by Kevin Long in early Rifts/Palladium products.

Unfortunately,  quality artwork is usually expensive, so unless one is an artist oneself or one has generous artist friends, there's a temptation to skimp.  There are sources of low cost (e.g., stock art) or no cost artwork (e.g, public domain), but such works may not fit the rest of the game's art style, mood, genre, etc.  In addition, excessive use of low cost or no cost artwork can make the entire game come off as amateurish.

However, even lesser quality artwork is often better than no artwork.   Pages upon pages of unmitigated text can quickly become a chore for the reader, greatly decreasing the chance to hook a potential player.

Tables, sidebars and the like can help to break up text walls and improve readability, but usually are not much help from a marketing point of view.  Perhaps the only example of a hugely successful no artwork RPG is "Traveller" (1977), which used a sleek minimalist look, superb writing and excellent production design:

Some RPG designers have been able to use Kickstarter or other crowdfunding strategies to good effect to address the cost of good artwork.  The most effective crowdfunded RPG projects usually have the text of the game mostly or completely written before beginning.  The rewards and perils of Kickstarter or other crowdfunding are complex enough that they are best addressed in another blog post but, suffice to say, one should not embark on that particular voyage without sufficient knowledge and preparation!

A great tabletop role-playing game is something that can be owned and used for decades, so good artwork often becomes part of the fun and experience of looking at the same document many, many times.  In addition, good artwork not only adds value but is synergistic, though it doesn't have to track with the written words.  I'm personally fond of old school RPG artwork that doesn't push any particular narrative/playstyle, because, when done properly, it can inspire all kinds of play that's only limited by one's own imagination.

Culture: Chopsticks (筷子) (~400 BC)

Eating is necessary for life but eating well is one of things that makes life worth living!  So, this week I wanted to give a shout out to one of the oldest and most famous eating implements of all time, Chopsticks (筷子):

A common sight at tables throughout throughout East Asia and beyond, chopsticks are sets of two equal length sticks that are used as kitchen and eating utensils.  Usually made of wood, metal, or plastic, chopsticks for eating are typically typically 7 to 10 inches long and are smoothed, with blunt ends, and are frequently tapered.

The Chinese term is 筷子 (pinyin: kuàizi), with the character 筷 combining a phonetic part meaning "quick" (快), and a semantic part meaning "bamboo" (竹).  However, the origin of the English name is a mystery: "chopstick" may be derived from Chinese Pidgin English, in which "chop chop" means "quickly".  

Held in the dominant hand, between the thumb and fingers, chopsticks are to pick up pieces of food and thus require more dexterity than knife and fork, which are typically used in Europe and the Americas.  However, with practice, most people can gain proficiency.

According to the California Academy of Sciences, the first "chopsticks" developed in China around 5000 years ago and were twigs used as cooking utensils for stirring fires, reaching deep into boiling pots of water or oil, etc.  Later, around 400 BC, chopsticks became popular as eating utensils when,  as a result of a population boom, resources became scarce.  Consequently, chefs began cutting food into small pieces which would cook more quickly to conserving fuel.  Thus, the need arose for eating implements capable of easily handling these small pieces.  

In addition, the spread of Confucianism may have also played a part in popularizing chopsticks.  Being a vegetarian, Confucius taught, “The honorable and upright man keeps well away from both the slaughterhouse and the kitchen. And he allows no knives on his table.”  The great sage thought that using knives as eating utensils evoked violence and warfare, and therefore discouraged such use.

By 500 AD, chopsticks had spread to Japan, Vietnam and Korea as a result of Chinese cultural influence, although early Japanese chopsticks were used only for religious ceremonies.  In the intervening millennia, chopsticks have also become widely used wherever expatriate Chinese traveled.

So, if you are using chopsticks, remember that you are enjoying a meal the same way that billions of people have done for thousands of years.  Just don't stick them vertically into rice, which is bad luck as it is similar to incense at funerals!

RPG Game Play: Character Death

This week, I wanted to discuss an issue that no tabletop role-player wants to think about: Character Death.

A key difference between tabletop role-playing games and other games wherein players assume the role of a character, such as some board games and war games, is that tabletop role-players often make mental and emotional investment in their character.  As a consequence of this investment, the possibility of Character Death has important effects on game play (e.g., raising the stakes, adding dramatic tension, etc.), as well as interesting knock on effects (e.g., encouraging players to pay much closer attention).

However, the possibility of Character Death is not a given in tabletop RPGs.  Sometimes, this lack of Character Death is a function of the particular tropes of a genre (e.g., superhero games).  However, other times, this lack of Character Death is accomplished by nerfing Random Number Generation (RNG) via player narrative tools.  Indeed, in some New School games, characters pretty much can't even die unless the player agrees, making "dying" a player's choice.

The stated rationale for this position is that the story is more important than the simulation or the game aspects in those games.  For example, in "FATE Core" (2013):

"We recommend [taking Character Death off the table], mainly for the following reason: most of the time, sudden character death is a pretty boring outcome when compared to putting the character through hell. "

Character Death is a pretty boring outcome?

Suffice to say, "FATE Core" and other story games hold the minority opinion among tabletop role-player.

By contrast, in many Old School games, Character Death is a ever present possibility, forming a key part of the tone of such games.  For example, in "Original Dungeons & Dragons" (1974) and similar games, the characters risk life and limb for the chance at fame and loot.  Without the possibility of Character Death, the perilous atmosphere loses most, if not all, of the edginess, and the risk/reward nature.

Of course, some critics mistake advocating for the POSSIBILITY of Character Death for advocating for a REQUIREMENT of such.  Advocates for the NECESSITY of Character Death, if they exist, must be extremely rare.

Character Death is mitigated in some games by giving players the opportunity to resurrect characters,
or by using bleed out rules.  Other games substitute major wounds for Character Death.  However, in my humble opinion, this is a bridge too far towards New School.  Indeed, except for genre exceptions (e.g., superhero games), a game can't really be Old School unless the possibility of Total Party Kill (TPK) is on the table.

Of course, the death of a character (especially Permadeath) can be a touchy subject for a player.  Character Death can be keenly felt and painful.  As a result, everyone's expectations should be on the same page, preferably before play begins, as a part of the group's "social contract".

Movie Review: The Beastmaster (1982)

Based (loosely) on the hugely influential and genre defining tales of R.E. Howard's legendary Swords & Sorcery protagonist, the 1982 film "Conan the Barbarian" was itself also hugely influential and genre defining, and spawned a host of imitators in the years that followed.  Of these, this week, I wanted to give a shout out to one of the best yarns produced in Arnie's long shadow, "The Beastmaster":

"The Beastmaster" begins with a prologue of sorts, where three witches with hideous faces but sexy bodies give high priest Maax (confusingly pronunced MAY-aks), played by Rip Torn, a prophecy that he'll die by the son of King Zed.  The King busts in, two of Maax's henchmen commit suicide for unclear reasons and everyone is surprisingly nonchalant.

Things get weirder when one of the hideous sexy witches manages to sneak into the royal bedchamber with a cow (!), to teleport the unborn prince from the Queen's womb into the cow's womb (!!)... even though the cow is male (!!!), and to sneak out.  After the cow gives birth to the prince, the hideous sexy witch attempts to ritually murder the infant, but the baby is saved by a timely passerby.

The child grows up to be Dar (played by Marc Singer), a farm boy unaware of his true lineage (where have we heard THAT before?).  Dar leads a simple but happy life and discovers his ability to communicate telepathically with animals.  Unfortunately, his village is massacred by the Jun Horde (and Maax, who's there as well for some reason), which sends Dar, who now only wears a few bits of strategically placed leather, out into the world to seek revenge.

In short order, Dar encounters his animal companions: an eagle (Sharak), a pair of ferrets (Kodo and Podo), and a black tiger (Ruh).  He also puts together a band of human heroes, including the former slave girl Kiri (played by the very lovely Tonya Roberts), whom many people feel is the best part of this movie.

The rest of the story meanders a fair bit, and the film's five act structure produces what feels like a false ending (especially since the real ending is not hugely necessary to the overall narrative), but the pacing is fast and the story is filled with interesting Swords & Sorcery moments, such as Dar's encounter with the weird bat creatures.

Immediately, one can see the "influences" of "Conan the Barbarian" on "The Beastmaster":

• Barbarian?  Check.
• Dark sorcery?  Check.
• Mighty thews?  Check.
• Quest for vengeance after village is massacred?  Check.
• Villain is the leader of a nefarious cult?  Check.

And so on.  However, one important difference between the Cimmerian and the Beastmaster is the  latter's twist on the genre (being able to telepathically communicate with animals), and this actually saves the entire film from being a complete ripoff, as it gives the titular character a unique skill set.

The film also feels quite different, partly because "The Beastmaster", unlike "Conan the Barbarian," has good amounts of mostly effective humor, which helps to alleviate the mostly hammy acting (the times that Dar is "speaking" to his eagle are painfully funny/bad).  Of course, hammy acting is sometimes actually a strength, such as Rip Torn spending the entire movie chewing scenery.

The film is goofy, mixed with sudden moments of grim dark (which the film doesn't dwell upon), and has plenty of cheese without crossing the line into outright camp.  Mostly.

Not certain how that bird can carry that child...

"The Beastmaster" is not a great movie but, if you accept it for what it is, it is great fun.  The flaws can be glaring, such as the poor fight choreography or the strange bits of plot (Dar's love interest is his cousin!).  However, there are also plenty of good points, such as the excellent costume design, excellent cinemotography, excellent work with animals and pretty decent practical and optical effects for the time.  Director Don Coscarelli, Jr. also tried to imbue an epic feel to the film (e.g., building an actual ziggurat) and there are other nice touches (e.g., Maax is a charlatan magician).

If you are a fan of Swords & Sorcery movies and/or you want to be as pervy as our hero (watching Kiri bathe naked), you owe it to yourself to watch this 80's classic!

RPG Design: Weaponry

Earlier this year, I discussed the importance of gear in tabletop role-playing games.  This week, I wanted to focus on what many players think is the coolest and most important part of any gear list, Weaponry:

As befits their wargaming ancestry, many RPGs make combat is a key or even central element of gameplay (e.g., hack and slash).  So, unsurprisingly, weapons are also a fundamental part of many RPGs, since they literally the tools of war.

This is a subject that many players of tabletop role-playing have spent many hours thinking about and can be a key part of the imaginary fun of role-playing.  For example, as I mentioned before, there is a different role-playing feel when one is a sword guy versus an axe guy.

Weapons are also important because they can be a fundamental part of a character's power in some RPGs.  Indeed, the effect of weapons are a baked in assumption for one of the Core Four classes, the Fighting-Man (aka the Fighter), since this is the primary way that Fighting-Men affect games.  For example, in Original Dungeons & Dragons (1974), the magic weapons tables are skewed towards swords, which can only be used by Fighting-Men.  This was a deliberate design decision to help balance the power of the Fighting-Man vis-à-vis the Cleric and the Magic-User.

Consequently, some RPGs have lengthy lists of weapons.  The AD&D Player's Handbook (1978) had an eye-popping, for the time, FIFTY weapons!  Sometimes even entire books mainly devoted to weapons (e.g., "Compendium of Weapons Armour and Castles" (1989)).

In terms of the level of mechanical depth, there are a number of approaches for weapon statistics, from OD&D very simply treating all normal weapons as mechanically equal (all weapons do 1d6 points of damage), to a great deal of crunch, such as AD&D's differing damage by size (versus large damage) and weapon versus armor modifications or GURPS' different types of damage (e.g., burning, crushing, cutting, impaling, etc.).

From a design point of view, the biggest thing to avoid is creating a best weapon (i.e., a weapon that is always mechanically superior to other choices) or making certain weapons redundant.  For example, AD&D had a huge number of pole arms that were probably overkill for pretty much anyone, except for Messr Gygax.

Furthermore, ideally, the mechanics of weaponry should provide some Tactical Depth, but not at the expense of too much complexity.  There shouldn't be so many weapon statistics that they become difficult to track.  For example, I personally didn't use any of AD&D's extra crunch (differing damage by size (versus large damage) or weapon versus armor modifications) because they required too much looking up (which slows down gameplay).

Myself, I'm a big fan of the approach of Baldur's Gate (1998), which had a streamlined list of weapons with streamlined statistics, so gameplay was quick.  However, BG also created tactical depth through its use of weapon groups and weapon proficiencies.  Thus, I adopted this approach for my rules set, Sorcery & Steel, since I think it provides the best balance of speedy gameplay with meaningful choices for weaponry.