When the audible glamer spell is cast, the wizard causes a volume of sound to arise, at whatever distance he desires (within range), and seem to recede, approach, or remain at a fixed place as desired. The volume of sound created, however, is directly related to the level of the spellcaster. The volume is based upon the lowest level at which the spell can be cast, 1st level. The noise of the audible glamer at this level is that of four men, maximum. Each additional experience level of the wizard adds a like volume, so that at 2nd level the wizard can have the spell cause sound equal to that of 8 men. Thus, talking, singing, shouting, walking, marching, or running sounds can be created. The auditory illusion created by an audible glamer spell can be virtually any type of sound, but the relative volume must be commensurate with the level of the wizard casting the spell. A horde of rats running and squeaking is about the same volume as 8 men running and shouting. A roaring lion is equal to the noise volume of 16 men, while a roaring dragon is equal to the noise volume of no fewer than 24 men. A character stating that he does not believe the sound receives a saving throw, and if it succeeds, the character then hears a faint and obviously false sound, emanating from the caster’s direction. Note that this spell can enhance the effectiveness of the phantasmal force spell. The material component of the spell is a bit of wool or a small lump of wax.
Armor
By means of this spell, the wizard creates a magical field of force that serves as if it were scale mail armor (AC 6). The spell has no effect on a person already armored or a creature with Armor Class 6 or better. It is not cumulative with the shield spell, but it is cumulative with Dexterity and, in case of fighter/mages, with the shield bonus. The armor spell does not hinder movement or prevent spell casting, and add no weight or encumbrance. It lasts until successfully dispelled or until the wearer sustains cumulative damage totaling greater than 8 points + 1 per level of the caster. (It is important to note that the armor does not absorb this damage. The armor merely grants an AC of 6; the wearer still suffers full damage from any successful attacks.) Thus, the wearer might suffer 8 points from an attack, then several minutes later sustain an additional 1 point of damage. Unless the spell were cast by a wizard of 2nd level or higher, it would be dispelled at this time. Until it is dispelled, the armor spell grants the wearer full benefits of the Armor Class gained. The material component is a piece of finely cured leather that has been blessed by a priest.
Alarm
When an alarm spell is cast, the wizard causes a selected area to react to the presence of any creature larger than a normal rat-anything larger than about 1/2 cubic foot in volume or more than about three pounds in weight. The area of effect can be a portal, a section of floor, stairs, etc. as soon as any creature enters the warded area, touches it, or otherwise contacts it without speaking a password established by the caster, the alarm spell lets out a loud ringing that can be heard clearly within a 50 foot radius. (Reduce the radius by 10 feet for each interposing door and by 20 feet for each substantial interposing wall.) The sound lasts for one round and then ceases. Ethereal or astrally projected creatures do not trigger an alarm, but flying or levitating creatures, invisible creatures, or incorporeal or gaseous creatures do. The caster can dismiss the alarm with a single word. The material components of this spell are a tiny bell and a piece of very fine silver wire.
Affect Normal Fires
This spell enables the wizard to cause nonmagical fires – from as small as a torch or lantern to as large as the area of effect – to reduce in size and brightness to become mere coals or increase in light to become as bright as full daylight and increase the illumination to double the normal radius. Note that this does not affect either fuel consumption or damage caused by the fire. The caster can affect any or all fires in the spell’s area. He can alter their intensities with a single gesture as long as the spell is in effect. The spell lasts until the caster cancels it, all fuel is burned, or the duration expire. The caster can also extinguish all flames in the area, which expends the spell immediately. The spell does not affect fire elementals or similar creatures.
Wizard Spells
Affect Normal Fires
This spell enables the wizard to cause nonmagical fires – from as small as a torch or lantern to as large as the area of effect – to reduce in size and brightness to become mere coals or increase in light to become as bright as full daylight and increase the illumination to double the normal radius. Note that this does not affect either fuel consumption or damage caused by the fire. The caster can affect any or all fires in the spell’s area. He can alter their intensities with a single gesture as long as the spell is in effect. The spell lasts until the caster cancels it, all fuel is burned, or the duration expire. The caster can also extinguish all flames in the area, which expends the spell immediately. The spell does not affect fire elementals or similar creatures.
Alarm
When an alarm spell is cast, the wizard causes a selected area to react to the presence of any creature larger than a normal rat-anything larger than about 1/2 cubic foot in volume or more than about three pounds in weight. The area of effect can be a portal, a section of floor, stairs, etc. as soon as any creature enters the warded area, touches it, or otherwise contacts it without speaking a password established by the caster, the alarm spell lets out a loud ringing that can be heard clearly within a 50 foot radius. (Reduce the radius by 10 feet for each interposing door and by 20 feet for each substantial interposing wall.) The sound lasts for one round and then ceases. Ethereal or astrally projected creatures do not trigger an alarm, but flying or levitating creatures, invisible creatures, or incorporeal or gaseous creatures do. The caster can dismiss the alarm with a single word. The material components of this spell are a tiny bell and a piece of very fine silver wire.
Armor
By means of this spell, the wizard creates a magical field of force that serves as if it were scale mail armor (AC 6). The spell has no effect on a person already armored or a creature with Armor Class 6 or better. It is not cumulative with the shield spell, but it is cumulative with Dexterity and, in case of fighter/mages, with the shield bonus. The armor spell does not hinder movement or prevent spell casting, and add no weight or encumbrance. It lasts until successfully dispelled or until the wearer sustains cumulative damage totaling greater than 8 points + 1 per level of the caster. (It is important to note that the armor does not absorb this damage. The armor merely grants an AC of 6; the wearer still suffers full damage from any successful attacks.) Thus, the wearer might suffer 8 points from an attack, then several minutes later sustain an additional 1 point of damage. Unless the spell were cast by a wizard of 2nd level or higher, it would be dispelled at this time. Until it is dispelled, the armor spell grants the wearer full benefits of the Armor Class gained. The material component is a piece of finely cured leather that has been blessed by a priest.
Audible Glamer
When the audible glamer spell is cast, the wizard causes a volume of sound to arise, at whatever distance he desires (within range), and seem to recede, approach, or remain at a fixed place as desired. The volume of sound created, however, is directly related to the level of the spellcaster. The volume is based upon the lowest level at which the spell can be cast, 1st level. The noise of the audible glamer at this level is that of four men, maximum. Each additional experience level of the wizard adds a like volume, so that at 2nd level the wizard can have the spell cause sound equal to that of 8 men. Thus, talking, singing, shouting, walking, marching, or running sounds can be created. The auditory illusion created by an audible glamer spell can be virtually any type of sound, but the relative volume must be commensurate with the level of the wizard casting the spell. A horde of rats running and squeaking is about the same volume as 8 men running and shouting. A roaring lion is equal to the noise volume of 16 men, while a roaring dragon is equal to the noise volume of no fewer than 24 men. A character stating that he does not believe the sound receives a saving throw, and if it succeeds, the character then hears a faint and obviously false sound, emanating from the caster’s direction. Note that this spell can enhance the effectiveness of the phantasmal force spell. The material component of the spell is a bit of wool or a small lump of wax.
A DM’s Miscellany
The previous chapters have presented a lot of rules and covered a lot of ground, but there are always a few things that don’t fit into neat little categories (or even big categories!). Some of these are situations that arise all the time during adventures. Others are situations or background facts you will need only occasionally. These “left-overs,” common and uncommon, are discussed below.
Listening
One of the useful tricks that smart adventurers learn after a few trips into deadly dungeons is to pay attention and listen for strange noises. Noise is a valuable clue, alerting characters to possible danger and even occasionally giving them a definite picture of what dangers they face. After rashly bashing down a door only to discover a barracks full of unruly orcs, the player characters may find it more prudent to stop outside and listen before trying the same stunt again.
All characters have a percentage chance to hear noises, the percentage varying by race, as listed on Table 83. This ability is equal to that of a 1st-level thief (however, thieves can choose to increase this score). This is not the character’s chance to hear someone talking to him or the tolling of the city watch’s bell at night. This percentage should be used only when hearing is difficult or there are extraordinary circumstances involved.
The percentage chance is followed by a number in parentheses. This second number is the same chance on 1d20. You can either make a percentile check or roll 1d20, whichever is most convenient. In either case, a roll equal to or less than the number on the table means the character hears something.
| Table 83: CHANCE TO HEAR NOISE BY RACE | ||
| Dwarf | Elf | Gnome |
| 15% (3) | 20% (4) | 25% (5) |
| Half-elf | Halfling | Human |
| 15% (3) | 20% (4) | 15% (3) |
Of course, the chance to hear noise given above represents more or less optimum conditions – helmet off, not moving, and all others remaining relatively still for one round while the character stands and tries to hear noises carried on the breeze or down a hallway. Under such conditions, the character will get a relatively clear idea of the nature of the noise – animal grunts, slithering, speech (including language and race), and perhaps even words.
Less than perfect conditions don’t alter the chance to hear (which is low enough) but can affect the clarity. Some, like the muffling effect of doors or the echoing of stone passages, may still allow the character to hear a noise reasonably well, but may prevent precise identification.
In some situations, a character can hear muttering, growls, panting, or voices, but may be unable to identify the issuer of the sounds. The character would know there is something ahead, but wouldn’t know what. In other situations, the chance to hear anything at all may be affected. Extreme cases can give you the excuse to provide misinformation. Guttural speech may sound like growls, the moaning wind could become a scream, etc.
In some cases a check is necessary even when the character is not attempting to discern some unknown noise. The character tries to hear the shouted words of a pirate captain over the raging storm. He can see the captain and can clearly tell the man is speaking. Indeed, the captain may even be speaking to him. However, a hearing check should be made to find out if the character can make out the captain’s words over the fury of the storm. If the character were a little closer, the storm a little less, or the captain’s lungs exceptionally strong, the character’s chance of success would be increased.
In all cases, hearing a noise takes time. The amount of time spent listening to the captain is obviously the time it takes him to speak his peace. Standing and hearing noise in a corridor or at a door requires a round, with the entire party remaining still.
Furthermore, a character can make repeated checks in hopes of hearing more or gaining more information. However, once a character fails a check, he will not hear anything (even if he immediately makes a successful check on the next round) unless there is a substantial improvement in the conditions. The group will have to move closer, open the door, or take some other action to allow a new check.
If a check is successful, the character can keep listening to learn more. This requires continued checks, during which the player can attempt to discern specifics – number, race, nature of beast, direction, approaching or retreating, and perhaps even bits of conversation. The player states what he is trying to learn and a check is made.
Trying to overhear things this way is less than reliable. Thieves should not be allowed to use their hear-noise ability like super-sensitive microphones!
Doors
When creating their characters, all players come up with a number to open doors, based on their Strength. Must the characters make checks to see if they can open inn doors, the doors to their rooms, or a carriage door? Of course not. Under most circumstances, don’t worry about the chance to open a door. Sometimes, however, there are doors the characters aren’t meant to open. That’s when the check becomes important.
Doors can generally be divided into different groups. First are regular normal doors. These open when pushed or pulled because that’s what they are supposed to do. The DM who requires a check every time the characters try to enter a tavern is misinterpreting the rules.
The next group are those heavy, old, musty, swollen and rusted doors found in dungeons and ancient ruins. These don’t open with an easy pull. The hinges may be frozen or the wood swollen in the frame. To open these the characters must make a check, yanking on the handle or giving the door a good shove.
Finally, there are locked, barred, and ensorcelled doors, ones that are closed and sealed on purpose. These take a bit of doing to open.
Every character has a chance to force open a door, but it is up to the DM to determine when it is appropriate to use this ability. The DM can legitimately allow the characters to force open a door held shut by a flimsy lock or rotted bar. An extremely heavy dungeon door, swollen in its frame may be unforceable. The characters throw their shoulders against it and just bounce. If picking a lock is particularly important to the adventure, then that might be the only way to open the door (short of stealing a key).
One important note to remember is that if a monster opened a door and fled through it, the characters should be able to open the door with equal ease. The key here is “equal ease.” What is easy for a troll or hill giant may be quite a bit more than a gnome or halfling can manage! Frequent opening and closing will also affect the ease with which a door can be used.
If a door fails to open on the first attempt, a character can try again – there is no limit to the number of attempts, but each subsequent attempt will reduce the character’s chance of success by one, as he grows more and more tired of yanking or banging on the door.
Another common tactic players use to deal with uncooperative doors is to put multiple characters on it. Up to two people can attempt to force open a door at the same time (more than this and the characters tend to trip over themselves). The chance of opening the door is increased by half the lesser character’s chance (with fractions rounded up). Thus, if Rupert opens doors on a 1, 2, 3, or 4 (on 1d20) and Delsenora on a 1, 2, or 3, together they can open a door on a 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, or 6 (Rupert’s 1-4 plus half of Delsenora’s 1-3, rounded up to a +2 bonus).
Resourceful characters sometimes go after doors in a big way, improvising battering rams to bash them in. The characters need a suitable ram (a stout log will do) and some running room to gain the full advantage of this method. Such a ram will enable the characters to total their chances to open the door. Even without the running room, the characters can swing the ram into the door. This allows more than two characters to apply their muscle at one time.
Each character on the ram contributes one-half his normal chance of opening doors to the overall effort. Thus, Rupert (1-4), Delsenora (1-3), Tarus (opens doors 1-6) and Joinville (opens doors 1-2) would have a (2 + 2 + 3 + 1 =) 1-8 chance of bashing down the door swinging a ram into it. Their chance would be (4 + 3 + 6 + 2 =) 1-15 if they were able to charge the door full tilt with their ram.
Of course, bashing down doors does have its disadvantages. First, the door is ruined and can’t be closed behind the group. The characters will leave a clear path, one any pursuers can follow, and they won’t be able to block their rear. Unless the site has regular maintainence, the DM should note on his key what doors have been destroyed for
future reference.
Forcing doors open also tends to be noisy. Unless the door bursts open on the first try, creatures on the other side cannot be surprised. Even if there isn’t anything behind the door, those nearby will be alerted (and if intelligent, may take action). Finally, the noise may attract unwanted visitors. The DM should immediately make a wandering monster check (if any exist in the area) each time a door is smashed down. Silently picking locks can have its advantages.
Concealed and Secret Doors
In addition to all other types of doors, the arcane architects of most fantasy buildings like to include a few secret and concealed doors. These can range from simple priest-holes to pivoting bookcases opening into hidden crypts. The only limit is your imagination.
Secret doors operate differently from normal doors. First and foremost, they must be found. This isn’t something that happens without effort (if it did, the door wouldn’t be very secret!). With the exception of elves, characters must search for secret doors to find them.
Searching a 20′ section of wall takes about 10 minutes, during which the characters tap, thump, twist, and poke, looking for secret catches, sliding panels, hidden levers, and the like. The exact amount of time can vary according to the amount of detail on the wall. A relatively barren wall section will go fairly quickly, while a one loaded with shelves, ornamentation, sconces, and other fixtures will require more time. A character can search a given wall area only once, although several characters can search the same area.
Normally, when a character discovers a secret door, he has found the means to open it. Therefore, no roll must be made to open the door. In very rare cases, the character may discover that the secret door exists (by finding its outline, for example) but not know how to open it. In this case, a separate check must be made to open the door.
Secret doors cannot be forced open by normal means although they can be bashed down with rams (at half the normal chance of success). Indeed, it is even possible for characters to see the secret door in operation and not know how it is operated. (”You burst in just in time to see Duke Marask, the vampire, disappear from sight as the sliding bookcase swings back into position.”) In such cases, knowledge that the door exists will increase the chance of finding its opening mechanism by 1.
It is a good idea to note how each particular secret door works and how it is concealed. While such notes have no effect on the mechanics of the game, they will add a lot of flavor and mystery at the expense of a little effort. Which is more exciting – to say, ”You find a secret door in the north wall,” or “You twist the lion-headed ornament over the mantle and suddenly the flames in the fireplace die down and a panel in the back slides up”?
Furthermore, colorful descriptions of secret doors allow you to place the burden of remembering how a given door works on the player characters – “What, you forgot what to do to make that secret door open? I suppose you’ll have to search again.” If used in moderation, this will help keep them involved in your game, encouraging them to make maps filled with all manner of interesting notes.
A concealed door is a normal door that is purposely hidden from view. There may be a door to the throne room behind that curtain or a trap door under the rug. The door isn’t disguised in any way or opened by secret catches; it is just not immediately obvious.
Any search for concealed doors will reveal them and once found they can be opened normally. Elves can sometimes sense concealed doors (if they make their die roll) without having to stop and search. No one knows how this is accomplished, although some theorize elves notice subtle temperature gradients when they pass near these doors.
Lycanthropy
Of all the afflictions that can strike a character, one of the most feared is lycanthropy. While often considered a disease, lycanthropy can more properly be described as a natural condition, in some cases, or a curse, in others. In either case, it is immune to the effects of cure disease spells and powers. Freeing a character from the torments of lycanthropy is a more involved and complicated matter than just casting a single spell.
True lycanthropy is neither a curse nor a contagion, but the ability, possessed by a limited number of species, to change into an animal shape at will. As such, true lycanthropes are not affected by the phases of the moon, darkness, or any other limitations on their changing abilities indicated in the folklore of werewolves. Neither can a PC be afflicted with true lycanthropy – it is an ability limited to those species born with the power.
However, one of the characteristics of the true lycanthrope is his ability to transmit a lycanthropic contagion to his victims. This is the dreaded lycanthropy of folklore. Once stricken, the victim falls under the sway of the moon, unable to resist the powerful change into a bloodthirsty beast.
Whenever a character is wounded by a true lycanthrope, there is 1% chance per hit point of damage suffered that the character is stricken with lycanthropy. The DM makes this check secretly, since characters never learn of their fate until it is too late (although prudent characters may take immediate steps as if they had been affected). If stricken, the character suffers from this curse.
Cursed characters suffer uncontrollable change on the night of a full moon and the nights immediately preceding and following it. The change begins when the moon rises and ends when it sets. During this time the character is controlled by the DM, not the player. Often, the character discovers that he has done terrible things while changed and under the DM’s control.
During the change, the character’s Strength increases temporarily to 19, allowing him to break bonds, bend bars, and otherwise escape confinement. The changed character has the Armor Class, attacks, movement, and immunities identical to the type of lycanthrope that wounded him.
However, the intelligence and alignment of the character are overwhelmed by an uncontrollable bloodlust. The player character must hunt and kill and generally chooses as his victims people he knows in his daily life. The stronger the emotion toward the person (either love or hate), the greater the likelihood the character will attempt to stalk and slay that person.
Remember that during the period of the change the player has no control over his character. Neither will he be identifiable to his friends and companions unless they are familiar with his curse or can recognize him by some personal effect.
At the end of each change, the character returns to his normal form (perhaps to his embarrassment). At the same time, he heals 10% to 60% (1d6x10) of any wounds he has suffered. While the character may know or suspect that he has done something terrible, he does not have clear memories of the preceding night. Good characters will be tormented at the thought of what they may have done, and paladins will find they have, at least temporarily, fallen from grace.
Freeing a character from the grip of lycanthropy is not the simple task of casting a spell. A cure disease has no effect on the character. A remove curse allows the character to make a saving throw to free himself from the lycanthropy, but this must be cast on one of the nights when the actual change occurs. If the character makes his saving throw vs. polymorph, the lycanthropy is broken and will not affect the character again (unless, of course he is infected by a lycanthrope once again).
Other Magical Diseases
Lycanthropy is not the only type of weird and magical affliction that can strike a character. Filthy rats can carry disease. Mummies possess the dangerous rotting touch. In each case there are effects set out in the description in the Monstrous Compendium. However, it is important for the DM to distinguish between normal and magical diseases.
A normal disease is one that no matter how exotic or fantastic is caused and transmitted in ways we normally understand – germs, mosquitoes, rabid rats, etc. To that end, the disease would be treatable by normal methods in the real world.
A magical disease, like rotting touch, is one that functions by some unexplained magical property. As such it is not curable by normal means.
The DM should understand the distinction between the two types of diseases. With that knowledge, he can rule on the effects of various cures and potions.
The Planes of Existence
Your campaign, or anybody else’s, is not the only possible world-setting for the AD&D® game. There are as many different campaigns as there are DMs. Yours may be a very conscientious medieval setting in western Europe. But what other kinds of campaigns could there be?
- A carefully researched campaign set in late-Medieval Italy where characters can meet famous rulers and artists of the age.
- One set in a world similar to the Far East, with oriental characters, creatures, and beliefs.
- A campaign set in lands similar to ancient Egypt at the height of the Bronze Age.
- A campaign in an underground world dominated by dwarves, locked into an endless war with the fecund orcs.
- A campaign set in gloomy, mysterious Eastern Europe, populated by sullen peasants, crumbling castles, and monsters both urbane and bestial, in the best traditions of old horror movies.
- A truly fantastic world filled with genii-driven steam engines, elemental airships, and spell-driven telegraphs.
- A campaign set in a tropical archipelago where travel is by canoe between islands of cannibals, giant beasts, and lost civilizations.
- A campaign world set in Africa at the height of its great empires, where powerful native kingdoms fight to resist the conquest of foreign explorers.
- A campaign based on the works of a particular author, such as Sir Thomas Mallory’s Le Morte d’Arthur or the sagas of Iceland.
Clearly, there are many possible settings for campaign worlds – all these and more. So, how can they all be accommodated? To allow such diversity and to provide unlimited adventure possibilities, the AD&D® game world offers many planes of existence.
The planes are different areas of existence, each separate from the others, each bound by its own physical laws. The planes exist outside our normal understanding of space and dimensions. Each has properties and qualities unique to itself. While more complete information can be found in other AD&D rule books, the brief overview given here outlines the basic structure of the planes.
Since they are without form or dimension, it is not possible to draw a road-map of the planes and their relationships to each other. However, there is a structure and organization to them which can best be visualized as a series of spheres, one inside the other.
The Prime Material Planes
At the very center of this series of spheres are the Prime Material planes. These are the planes most familiar to AD&D game players. The Prime Material planes include the many Earth-like alternate worlds and campaigns that operate from the more or less the same basic realities. There may be variations from Prime to Prime, but most features remain the same. The inhabitants of each Prime always refer to their plane as the Prime Material plane.
The Ethereal Planes
Surrounding each Prime Material plane is a separate Ethereal plane. The Ethereal planes are misty realms of proto-matter. Nothing is solid on these planes.
In the Ethereal planes, there may be small pockets or islands of matter known as demi-planes. These demi-planes are sometimes the creations of extremely powerful wizards, technologists, or demi-gods.
The Inner Planes
Using the sphere analogy, outside of the Primes and the Ethereal planes are the inner planes, the primary building forces of the multiverse. The inner planes consist of the elemental, para-elemental, and quasi-elemental planes, and the planes of energy. The elemental planes are the building blocks of matter – Air, Water, Fire, and Earth. Where the elemental planes touch each other there arise the para-elemental planes – Smoke, Ice, Ooze, and Magma. The Energy planes are the Positive Material plane (also called the Plane of Life) and the Negative Material plane (the source of entropy). The quasi-elemental planes exist where the elemental planes touch the Energy planes – Lightning, Steam, Minerals, and Radiance around the Positive Material plane, and Salt, Vacuum, Ash, and Dust around the Negative Material plane. Many of the planes have their own creatures and rulers who are sometimes summoned to one of the Primes through spells or magical items.
The Astral Plane
Beyond the inner planes (continuing with the spheres) is the Astral plane. Like the Ethereal planes, this plane serves as a connector between the different realities. It links the various Primes to each other (one travels from one Prime to another by crossing the Astral plane, not the Ethereals) and connects each Prime to the outer planes.
The Astral plane is a barren place with only rare bits of solid matter. Indeed, the most common feature is the silver cords of travelers in the plane. These cords are the lifelines that keep travelers of the Plane from becoming lost, stretching all the way back to the traveler’s point of origin.
The Outer Planes
Finally, outside all else are the outer planes, also called the Planes of Power. There are 17 known outer planes – there may be more. These planes can be reached only by powerful spells or by crossing the Astral plane.
Each outer plane is unique. Some seem quite similar to the Primes; others have terrain and physical laws wildly different from that to which the characters may be accustomed. Magic functions differently on each plane as do many other common assumptions of reality.
Powerful beings (self-proclaimed gods, goddesses, and demi-gods) inhabit these planes along with a full range of other lifeforms. The outer planes are the final resting place of the spirits of intelligent life forms of the Prime Material planes.
The known outer planes have been named by humans. Some of these names are:
Nirvana
Arcadia
Seven Heavens
Twin Paradises
Elysium
Happy Hunting Grounds/Beastlands
Olympus/ Arvandor
Gladsheim
Limbo
Pandemonium
The Abyss
Tarterus
Hades
Gehenna
The Nine Hells
Acheron
Concordant Opposition
These names are not necessarily consistent from world to world or Prime Material plane to Prime Material plane. Indeed, since the planes are without dimension and form, it is possible for different lands in the same campaign world to have entirely different pictures of planar structure and order.
For example, an oriental-type world might see the outer planes not as a series of separate regions, but as a single mass throughout which are scattered different agencies of the Celestial Bureaucracy. The Celestial Emperor might reside on one plane, while his Minister of State operated from another.
A Nordic land would see the plane of Gladsheim as dominant over all others, in accordance with the importance they ascribe the powers there. These things are left to your discretion, as the DM. The planes can be molded to meet the needs of your campaign.
Time & Movement
The passage of time in an AD&D® campaign can have relatively minor or extremely significant effects on the play of the game. The importance of time is decided almost entirely by the DM. Some DMs care very little about strict timekeeping; others track every moment of action, using a rigid calendar. Either method is acceptable and each has its advantages and disadvantages. The two can even be combined, as appropriate to the situation.
Regardless of how time is handled, some timekeeping is unavoidable: Combats must be fought in rounds; spells have specific durations which become important as characters explore caverns and ancient ruins; days are used to measure overland travel; characters must sleep sometime.
However, most passing time occurs within a single adventure: Spells rarely carry over from adventure to adventure (unless the session is stopped with the characters lost in winding caverns or the like); rounds of combat, while taking several game minutes, don’t affect or spill over into subsequent adventures; days of travel often have no effect other than healing and the consumption of supplies.
If the DM wants, this is the only sort of timekeeping required. Time passed in previous adventures has little or no effect on the current session – each session or adventure is distinct and separate. For example, in one adventure, the characters spend a few hours in the dungeon, get injured, have some success, and return wounded. The night’s game session ends with them returning to their home base. Next game session, the DM announces, “A week or so has passed since you last went out. Everybody is healed and rested. People with spells can pick new ones.” The DM has chosen not to worry about the passage of time in this instance. An entire campaign can be played this way.
Here’s another example: In one adventure, a group of characters travels for three weeks and has several encounters, ending camped outside some ruins. The next session starts after the characters have camped for five days, so they can heal their wounds. Several hours pass as they explore the ruins, but no one is particularly hurt when they return to camp, and the game session ends.
The next session starts the morning after their previous adventure, everyone having gotten a good rest. The characters set out again. They spend a week on the road and arrive at a village. Here, the mage insists everyone wait while he researches a vital spell. Again, the game session ends. The next session begins two months later, after the mage has learned his spell and continues from there. Throughout all this, the DM is more or less winging it, estimating the time required and time spent.
There is nothing wrong with this method, nor is it particularly unrealistic. Medieval travelers often stopped at friendly or safe havens for long periods while on their way to a final destination. There was little pressure to hurry.
Using this simple time-tracking approach frees the DM from many of the concerns of timekeeping and prevents some obstacles to the adventure from occurring. (“We can’t go on an adventure! We’re all hacked up and have to heal.”) Most of all, it is easy.
Detailed Timekeeping
As noted, however, there are disadvantages to such simple time-tracking. Problems become more pronounced as the characters advance in level, your campaign world becomes larger, and more players take part in your game.
At low levels, characters tend to go on short adventures. A few hours in the dungeon followed by a speedy return is about all they can survive. Therefore, it is easy to have a week’s interval within adventures, since the time passed does not impact on the characters’ activities. As characters reach higher levels, however, their ambitions grow and their adventures become longer. More precise time-tracking proves useful.
More precise methods can become unworkable, however, when player characters split into small groups, undertaking separate, simultaneous adventures. If one group sefs out on a long journey while the rest of the party stays in the city, their game sessions are going to be at very different time scales.
In their first session, the city dwellers may go on a short dungeon expedition. Several hours of game time (the amount of imaginary time spent on the adventure) pass. The DM then has a session with the travelers, and they spend three weeks of game time in the wilderness during their game. There is now a game time difference between the two groups of three weeks minus one day!
If the travelers return to the city at the end of their adventure, the group in town must suddenly be moved forward in time to catch up with them if both groups wish to adventure together. Fortunately, this is not a great problem. The DM can simply say, “Three weeks have passed and you are all reunited again.”
The city adventurers can spend those three weeks doing background work – training, researching spells, making a minor magic item, building a house, etc. This is a good use of free time. However, if one of the city characters decides to join the travellers (perhaps using a teleport spell to catch up with them suddenly), the three-week difference becomes a problem. Was that character actually with the traveling group for three weeks without doing anything? Must he wait for three weeks before he can join them? What if the other characters in town want to adventure more during that time? At this point, keeping track of time (or having the players do it) becomes pretty important.
Preparing a Calendar
One advantage of careful timekeeping is the detail and flavor it adds to the DM’s campaign. If a calendar is kept, the DM has a way of recording the passing seasons, holidays, months, cycles of the moon, or other details that give a world life.
Clerics have holy days to observe, werewolves become more prevalent near full moons, snows come, and birds fly south. All of these are events that happen during the course of a year and make a world seem more real. Without some type of calendar, the DM has nothing to base has campaign on. Take, for example, the following exchange between players:
Jon (Johan the Cleric’s player): “Say, you know I’m a member of this temple. Do I have to do anything, or what? Do I give a sermon every week or are there some days of fasting or anything?”
DM: “Well, uh, yeah – you’ve got holy days you’re supposed to spend in prayer.”
Jon: “Oh, when?”
DM (in desperation): “Well, uh – Thanksgiving’s coming.”
Jon: “Oh, but you said it’s the middle of summer. Doesn’t Thanksgiving come at harvest time?”
Louise (chiming in): “You know, it’s been summer ever since my character started playing!”
DM: “Well – it’s magic!”
Not exactly a lot of color or planning there. Now, if the DM had worked out a calendar, he could have answered those questions with a lot more confidence.
Preparing a calendar does take time. The easiest method is to buy a small pocket calendar for the current year. Start the campaign on the same date as the first adventure. Thus, if the first game is played on April 3rd, the campaign starts on that day. The real calendar and game calendar will get out of sync quickly, but at least there will be a record of seasons, moons, and important dates.
This is a good starting point, but a modern calendar is not the same as that used in medieval times and certainly not the same as one used for a fantasy world. You’ll want to customize your calendar with details from your game world. So, what types of details should be included?
The Basics have to be determined. Aside from recording the length of years, months, and weeks (which can be anything the DM decides), the calendar should also name them. You can use real names or you can be quite fanciful (the Winter of the Broken Moon or the Moon of Popping Trees, and so on). Have fun.
Physical Cycles can be worked out. When do the seasons fall? When are the phases of the moon? When do the equinoxes and solstices occur? Strange and magical events often happen at these times.
Religious Observances should be added. All major player character religions should be assigned holy days, so that player character-priests will have something to observe. There are normally a lot of these, and they will vary from region to region.
Medieval calendars observed over 100 different holy days for saints or special events. Create your own such calendar, being sure to add special observances particular to each kingdom, empire, or region. These might include the king’s birthday, the date of a titanic victory over the infidel, the opening of a market fair in a nearby city, or the annual harvest festival.
Fantastic Events are clearly an important part of a fantasy world’s calendar. These can be anything imaginable – the annual visitation of a ghostly castle, the bi-monthly tribute demanded by the evil wizard, the night-march of mysterious nomads, or the seasonal migration of the wyvems.
Special Events should be included, as well. The local princess may have an impending wedding. The army may prepare for the annual campaign against the orc hordes. The death of an important official may require a set period of mourning. All of these can be used to fill up a calendar.
Clearly, setting up a detailed calendar takes planning and time. Events must be created and assigned to specific dates. Furthermore, the DM must have some idea of what happens during each event, preferably something that makes it different from all others.
What happens when the evil wizard comes to collect his tribute? (All the townsfolk shutter their houses and hide from his vile horde.) When the king posts the bans for his daughter’s nuptials? (A largess of 1 cp is granted all the poor of the city.) During the Festival of Antherra? (Shrines are paraded through the streets and there is much merriment.) The answers created by the DM supply the ultimate detail needed to make a campaign come alive.
Time as a Game-Balancer
Finally, remember that time can be used quite effectively to balance a campaign. With it, a DM can prevent an adventuring party from achieving too wide a spread of character levels. If one character is advancing faster than the others, that person’s progress can be slowed a little by carefully enforcing the rules for researching, training, and healing. If several people are outpacing the rest of the group, they can be required to go on longer adventures, ones that take more game time (but not playing time) to complete.
At the same time, characters who are lagging in level can have time restrictions relaxed a little. The day-to-day drudgeries go a little quicker for these characters, and their adventures require shorter amounts of game time. This will allow them to undertake several adventures to the other group’s one or two, giving the lower level characters a chance to catch up.
Although on the surface such things look unfair, most players will realize the DM is doing this for the best of all players involved.
Movement
The Player’s Handbook gives rules for player character movement on foot. However, feet and walking are not the only ways a character can get around. In the AD&D game world, characters can ride horses, bounce along on camels, sail aboard ships, and even fly winged mounts. Clearly there are many different forms of conveyance, the most common of which are covered here.
In addition, there are hazards and risks that must be considered when traveling. Player characters can get lost in untracked wildernesses, capsize in cascading rapids, or run aground on hidden shoals. Getting around can be a risky business.
Mounted Overland Movement
Mounted movement cross-country is affected by a number of factors. The two principal ones are the movement rate of the mount and the type of terrain traversed. Under normal conditions, all mounts are able to move a number of miles per day equal to their movement rate. Terrain, such as roads or mountains, can alter trus rate.
Advantages of Mounted Movement
When determining overland movement rates, remember that most riders spend as much time walking their mounts as they do riding them. The real advantage of riding is in the extra gear the mount can carry and its usefulness in combat.
Thus, while an unencumbered man can go about the same distance as a heavy warhorse across clear terrain (24 miles as opposed to 30), the man must travel with virtually no gear to move at that rate. Were he to carry an assortment of arms, a suit of chain mail armor, and his personal items, he would find it impossible to keep up with a mounted man similarly encumbered.
Increasing Overland Speed
A mount can be pushed to double its normal daily movement rate, but only at the risk of lameness and exhaustion. Any creature moving overland at double speed (or any fraction thereof) must make a saving throw vs. death.
If the saving throw is successful, the creature is unaffected. If the saving throw is failed, the creature is lame or spent; it can’t travel any farther that day. Thereafter, it can move only at its normal movement rate until it is rested for at least one day. For each successive day a horse is ridden at double movement, a -1 penalty is applied to the
saving throw.
Overland movement can be increased to triple the normal rate, although the risks to the animal are even greater. When moving at triple the normal rate, a saving throw vs. death must be made with a -3 penalty applied to the die roll. If the saving throw is failed, the creature collapses from exhaustion and dies. If the saving throw succeeds, the creature is merely spent and must be rested –not ridden at all – for 1d3 days.
When a creature goes lame, exhausts itself, or is ridden too hard, there is no way of knowing just when the creature will collapse. Player characters can’t be certain of traveling the full double or triple distance. The DM should determine where and when the creature collapses. This can be a random place or at some point the DM thinks is best for the adventure.
Care of Animals
Although player characters should not be forced into the role of grooms, all animals do have some basic needs that must be provided for. However, each animal is different, so the requirements for each are listed separately.
Horses: While strong and fast, horses are not the hardiest creatures for traveling. Horses need around ten pounds of forage and fodder a day. Furthermore, good quality mounts should be fed grain, such as oats. A heavy war horse can’t survive the rigors of travel by grazing on grass. Characters who can’t provide enough food of high enough quality will watch their horses weaken and die. Horses must also have water every day. This can become particularly difficult in the desert.
During daily travel, horses must be allowed to stop and rest with regular frequency. During these stops the mount should be unsaddled or all packs removed. If this isn’t done, little profit is gained from the rest. At night horses should be hobbled or tethered on a long rope so they can graze. If one or two are tied, the others will generally not wander off. Horses need not be shod, unless they walk mostly on hard-surfaced roads or rocky ground. Horseshoes should be replaced about once a month.
Ponies, Donkeys, and Mules: These animals have much the same needs as the horse. One of their main advantages is their ability to survive by grazing. Well accustomed to grass, there is no need to provide them with separate fodder. Their hardiness is such that saving throws vs. death made for double movement gain a +2 bonus. This does not apply to triple movement.
The other great advantage of these creatures is their sure-footedness. They can travel through rugged terrain at one less than the normal movement cost. Thus, low mountains cost only three movement points.
Camels: Camels are either suited to sandy deserts (as in the case of the dromedary) or rocky deserts (the bactrian camel). It’s worth nothing that dromedaries are ill-suited to rocky deserts, and bactrian camels aren’t appropriate mounts in sandy deserts! Dromedary camels reduce the movement cost of sandy desert by 1 point. Bactrian camels have the same effect in rocky deserts.
All camels march better by night, when it is cooler. Dromedary camels are able to withstand a few days of cold weather (the temperature drops drastically in the desert at night); and some bactrian camels actually live in freezing and mountainous deserts.
Although camels can manage for long periods of time without water, they must be fed every day. They do not need special fodder so long as grazing is possible. On the average they should have water at least every four days, although they can be trained to do without for longer periods, even up to several months if green grass or leaves are available for grazing. Like horses, camels should be hobbled or tethered to prevent them from wandering off.
Dogs: Particularly tough breeds can be used to pull sleds and sledges. Some are suited to cold weather and will withstand a great deal of hardship. They require at least a pound of meat a day, so characters should pack dried meat for the dogs. If necessary, one dog can be killed to feed the others, but this is not recommended. Beyond the needs of feeding, sled dogs tend to care for themselves fairly well, although the characters may have to keep certain animals separated to prevent fighting.
Elephants: As can be expected, elephants eat a prodigious amount of fodder every day. In thickly forested areas, this can be supplied without reducing the beasts’ already slow speed. Elephants can also be found in sparsely forested plains, though. Here, if left to graze for itself, the beast will move at ¼ its normal movement rate. Except for the carrying capacity of the beast, the characters might as well walk at these speeds! Elephants should bathe (or be bathed) every day and will avail themselves of dust baths to keep biting flies away.
It should also come as no surprise that elephants can’t negotiate cliffs. They can bound down steep slopes – indeed, it is the only time they go fast – but only at great peril to themselves and their riders. If the beast fails a saving throw vs. breath weapon (used for general tests of dexterity), it stumbles, falls, and rolls the rest of the way down the slope. The fall may kill or severely injure the elephant; the choice is left to the DM. Elephants are affected only by the deepest mud, so the movement penalty for mud is ignored.
Yaks: Yaks are suited to the cold regions of high mountains. While slow, they are sturdy, unaffected by the cold. Their sure footing allows them to reduce all mountain movement rates by one. They can survive by grazing on a meagre amount of grass. Yaks also provide meat and milk for travellers. They live in cool regions and cannot survive long in warmer climates since they are prone to collapse from heat exhaustion.
Vehicles
While animals are useful for getting around in the wilderness, they are seriously limited by the size of the load they can carry. Peasants and merchants often use wagons and carts for trade in civilized areas. Chariots are favored by the wealthy and in times of war, but are not normally used for long-distance travel. Sledges and dog sleds are handy in snow and ice-bound regions. Player characters may find all these vehicles necessary during the course of their adventures.
Carts are small two-wheeled affairs. They can be pulled by one or two animals, but no more than this. Wagons are four-wheeled and can hitch anywhere from two to 12 (or even more!).
The movement rate of a horse or other animal is automatically reduced by half when hitched. Additional animals do not increase the speed. However, the standard load the beast can carry is tripled. The weight of the cart or wagon and driver is not considered for this, only the cargo. Each additional animal adds its tripled capacity to the total load hauled. Thus, a wagon pulled by eight draft horses could carry 6,240 lbs., or slightly over three tons, worth of cargo (260 x 3 x 8). Of course, traveling will be slow – only 12 miles a day on a level road.
Chariots are intended more for speed, comfort, and their usefulness in warfare than for their ability to haul loads. Chariots can hitch one to four horses (or other creatures), but no more than this. A horse can pull its normal load (the weight of the chariot not included) at ⅔ its normal movement rate.
Each additional horse in the hitch either increases the cargo limit by the horse’s standard load or increases the movement rate by a factor of 1. The chariot can’t have more movement points than the creatures pulling it would normally have. A chariot pulled by four medium war horses could have a movement rate of 15 or pull 880 lbs., enough for four large or armored men. It could also have some combination of the two (movement rate of 13 and a cargo of 660 in the above example).
Terrain and Vehicles
The greatest limitation on all these vehicles is terrain. Wagons, carts, and chariots are restricted to level or open ground unless traveling on a road or the best trails. While a wagon can cross a mountain range by staying to the open valleys and passes, it just can’t make good progress in a thick forest. This problem generally restricts wagons to travel between settlements, where roads and paths are common.
Sledges and dog sleds can be used only in snow-covered or ice-coated lands. Sledges (pulled by horses or the like) are roughly equivalent to carts. No more than two horses can be hooked to a sledge. Horse-drawn sledges are effective only on hard-packed snows and ice and can ignore the penalties for these. Deep snow merely causes the horse to flounder and the runners of the sledge to sink, so no benefit is gained in these conditions.
Dog sleds are normally pulled by seven to 11 dogs. When hitched, a sled dog’s movement is reduced by ½. However each additional dog adds one movement factor to the sledge, up to the maximum of movement of the animal. Thus a dog sled with seven dogs would have a movement of 14½. Each dog can pull 50 lbs., not including the weight of the sledge. Due to their lighter weight and the sledge design, dog sleds can cross all types of snow and ice without penalty.
Terrain Effects on Movement (Optional Rule)
Terrain, or the nature of the ground, has little effect on short-term movement. A character running pell-mell across a meadow can do about the same speed in the desert, or on a sandy beach. Only the most extreme terrain hinders short term movement.
These extreme conditions are listed given on Table 73 as reductions of movement rate. The reduction applies to all movement for a single round. When a character is in two different types of terrain during the same round, use the worst (i.e., most difficult) adjustment.
*Faster movement is possible.
Darkness and Ice
The movement adjustments given for both darkness and ice assume reasonable safety for the characters. At these speeds characters will have no more than normal chances of slipping or falling. However, characters can move at faster than safe speeds under these conditions.
If characters choose to move more quickly (up to their normal movement rate), they must roll a Dexterity check each round. If the check is passed, nothing happens. If the check is failed, the character has tripped over some unseen obstacle or sprawled out from an unexpected slide.
In perfect darkness the character can’t be certain that he is walking in the right direction unless he has spells or other assistance. Assuming the character is on his own, the DM can choose what happens or he can determine randomly by rolling 1d12. On a 1-4 the character maintains the desired course. On a 5-8 he veers to the right and on a 9-12 he goes to the left. The consequences of such course changes depends entirely on the DM and his map.
Terrain Modifiers in Overland Movement
Overland movement is much more affected by terrain than single-round movement. Thus, a wide variety of terrain types slow or, on very rare occasions, increase the character’s rate of movement.
Overland movement is measured in miles. It is possible for characters to cross several different types of terrain in a single day. To say that characters must take the worst terrain modifier for all movement is ridiculous. Imagine telling players they have to travel at the mountain movement rate when they are crossing the plains just because they spent their first hour in the mountains!
Furthermore, in round movement the DM can see where a character will be at the end of the round and what terrain he had to cross to get there. In overland movement, it is very hard to predict all the different terrain types characters will enter during the course of a day.
Table 74 lists the effects of different terrain. These are listed as points of movement spent per mile of travel through that terrain type. When a character or creature moves through the listed terrain, that number is subtracted from the total movement available to the character or creature that day.
Roads and Trails
The main purpose of roads and trails is to provide a clear route for wagons, carts, and other forms of heavy transport. It is impossible for such vehicles to cross any terrain that has a movement point cost greater than 1 unless they are following a road or trail. In addition, roads and trails normally go somewhere, so it is hard (but not impossible) for characters to get lost while following them.
Trails are by far the most common cleared track found in AD&D® game worlds. Often little more than narrow game trails, they are the natural result of traffic moving from one point to another. Though not roads (in that they are not maintained), they tend to be fairly open pathways. Still, characters may have to see to the removal of fallen trees and stones or the clearing of brush – all things that can be accomplished by the occasional traveler.
Trails normally follow the path of least resistance, avoiding difficult obstacles such as chasms, cliffs, and unfordable rivers. While this may increase the distance characters must travel, it usually results in an overall saving of time and effort.
When traveling along a trail, the movement point cost is half normal for the terrain type traversed by the trail. Following a trail through the heavy forest, for example, (movement cost of three) costs only 1½ movement points per mile. An unencumbered man on foot would be able to march eight miles through such terrain without exerting himself. Trails through settled farmland offer no improvement, since these areas are easy to travel through already.
Roads are costly to build and maintain, so they were very rare in the Middle Ages (the general time period of the AD&D game). Only the largest and best organized empires can undertake such ambitious construction programs.
In areas of level or rolling ground, such as forests and plains, roads reduce the movement cost to one-half point per mile. In areas of mountainous ground, roads are no better than trails and reduce movement costs accordingly. A road traveling through high mountains is only four movement points per mile.
Terrain Obstacles and Hindrances
The movement point costs given above assume the best of conditions even in the worst of terrain. The mountains are assumed to be free of cliffs; the woods have no high-banked streams; rains haven’t turned the plains to mud; the tundra hasn’t been blanketed in snow. However, poor traveling conditions do occur, and when they do travel is slowed. Table 75 lists common obstacles and situations that slow movement. The modifiers for these are listed as either additional movement point costs or multipliers.
When additional movement costs are listed, these are added to the cost of the surrounding terrain. Thus, crossing a ridge in the high mountains costs nine movement points for that mile instead of the normal eight.
Multipliers increase the movement cost by the amount listed. Snow, for example, doubles the cost of crossing the plains. Indeed, severe weather conditions – blinding snowstorms or torrential rains – can actually bring all travel to a halt.
* These assume the player characters find a route around the obstacle. Alternatively, the DM can require the characters to scale or span the obstacle, playing out this encounter.
** These extremes must be in excess of the norm expected of the character or creature. Thus, a camel is relatively unaffected by the scorching heat of a desert and a yak barely notices the cold of high mountains.
*** This cost is negated by the presence of a bridge or ford.
Movement on Water
One of the fastest and easiest ways to get somewhere is to travel on a river. It’s hard to get lost; a large amount of equipment can be easily carried; it is faster and easier than walking; characters can even do other things (mend clothes, learn spells, cook meals) while traveling on smooth waters.
River travel is not without its risks, however. Eddies, snags, sandbars, rapids, and dangerous waterfalls can make a journey quite exciting. Fortunately, most of these hazards can be avoided by knowledgeable characters.
The rate of movement on a river is determined by two factors: the type of boat and the flow of the current. If the boat is traveling downstream (in the direction of the current), add the speed of the current to the speed of the boat. If the boat is traveling against the current, subtract this amount from the boat’s speed. Table 76 lists rates in both feet/round and miles/hour for the common types of riverboats.
When sailing downstream, characters must be wary of unexpected hazards. While a good map can show the location of waterfalls and rapids, only a knowledgeable guide or pilot knows the location of hidden sandbars, snags, and dangerous eddies. While these are easy to avoid when traveling upstream (all one need do is stop paddling), unprepared boaters can quickly be swept into them going downstream.
Once characters find themselves in a dangerous situation, they must make a Wisdom check (modified for seamanship proficiency, if this is used) to prevent capsizing. Capsized boats and goods are swept downstream, although hazards like waterfalls and particularly strong rapids will smash most craft.
*These vessels can triple their hourly movement when the sail is raised (provided the wind has the right heading).
Ocean Voyaging
Ocean journeys are a dangerous business, especially in a fantasy world. Sea serpents, incredible maelstroms, and other imaginary horrors that filled the maps of medieval navigators really can lurk in the deeps of the AD&D® game’s oceans. Not that they are really necessary – pirates, storms, hidden shoals, and primitive navigational techniques leave the typical sea captain with more than enough danger to cope with.
Deep-sea sailing is pretty much unknown in the AD&D game world. The majority of captains prefer to stay close to known coasts. Without navigation equipment only a few ships venture into open water beyond the sight of land. Ship-building skills are not fully up to the needs of deep-sea sailing. Most ships are easily swamped by the stormy waters of major oceans, while their small size prevents crews from carrying adequate supplies for long voyages. Even the skills of sail-handling are in their rudimentary stages.
However, these limitations are not serious in a fantasy world. Those with wealth can cross oceans by other, more practical, means: flying mounts, undersea dwellers, and teleportation are all available, at least to the rich and powerful. (The vast majority of the population does not have access to these forms of travel.) Also, magical transport is impractical for moving large cargoes. The need to move goods and the scarcity of magical transport make sailing a valuable and necessary art.
Table 77 lists ships that could commonly be found in a medieval world. The table lists basic game information about each ship: base speed, emergency speed, and seaworthiness. More information about each ship is given in the chapter on Money & Equipment in the Player’s Handbook.
Base move per hour is the average speed of the vessel under good conditions. Where two numbers are separated by a slash, the first is the speed under sail and the second is the rowing speed.
To determine the movement of a ship per round (in rare occasions where this is necessary), multiply the current speed times 30. This is the yards traveled per round.
Emergency move is the top speed of the vessel in emergency or combat situations. For sailing ships, emergency speed is gained by putting on every yard of sail possible. Galleys and other oared ships rely on the strength of their rowers. This speed can only be maintained for short periods of time. Too long and rowers will collapse; masts, yards, and sails will break.
Seaworthiness rates the vessel’s ability to remain afloat in dangerous situations, notably storms, hidden shoals, extended voyages, huge monster attacks, and rams. Any time the DM rules that there is a chance of sinking, he rolls percentile dice. If the roll is equal to or less than the seaworthiness rating of the ship, it remains afloat, though bailing or repairs may be necessary. If the roll is higher than the seaworthiness rating, the ship sinks.
Ports and anchorages give a seaworthiness bonus of +50%. Thus, vessels at anchor are in little or no danger from a normal storm.
Weather and Ship Travel
More than other methods of travel, ships (especially sailing ships) are subject to the whims of wind and weather. While it can be assumed that sailing weather is normally good, there are times when storms, favorable winds, or freak currents can increase or decrease a ship’s speed. The effects of different weather conditions are listed on Table 78.
| Table 78: SAILING MOVEMENT MODIFIERS | ||
| Weather Condition |
Sailing Modifier |
Rowing Modifier |
| Adverse | ×½ | ×1 |
| Becalmed | NA | ×1 |
| Favorable (average) | ×2 | ×1 |
| Favorable (strong) | ×3 | ×1* |
| Gale | ×4* | ×½* |
| Hurricane | ×5** | ×½** |
| Light breeze | ×1 | ×1 |
| Storm | ×3* | ×½* |
* A seaworthiness check is required.
** A seaworthiness check with a -45% penalty is required.
Weather conditions are generally fairly consistent within a single day. (This is an obvious simplification to keep the game moving.) The exact conditions for a given day can be chosen by the DM (perhaps by using the weather outside) or it can be determined randomly. To do the latter, roll 2d6 and find the result on Table 79.
*Hurricanes occur only if the previous day’s weather was gale. If not, treat the result as a gale.
Adverse winds are determined by rolling 1d6. On a 5 or 6, the winds are unfavorable. When adverse winds are storm strength or greater, the ship will be blown off-course by at least half its movement under those conditions, regardless of whether it is a sailing ship or galley.
Aerial Movement
Aerial movement rates are handled according to the normal movement rules, with clear sky being treated as clear terrain. A detailed system of aerial movement during the round can be found in Chapter 9: Combat. The only special consideration that must be given to aerial movement is the weather condition. Weather is, for all practical purposes, the terrain of the sky.
As with sea movement, the weather for any particular occasion can be chosen by the DM or determined randomly. If determined randomly, the DM should first roll a wind condition (as found on Table 79, above).
Next, the DM rolls 1d6 to determine precipitation (although storms and hurricanes have automatic precipitation). During summer and winter, a 6 on the die indicates rain or snow. In spring and fall, a 5 or 6 is rain. Clearly the DM must adjust this according to the terrain of the region. There is little need to make precipitation checks when flying over a desert, for example.
Be aware that this is only a very simple method for determining the weather, and judgment should still be used. The effects of weather on aerial movement can be found on Table 80.
| Table 80: AERIAL MOVEMENT MODIFIERS | |
| Condition | Modifier |
| Hurricane | Not possible |
| Gale | ¼ |
| Storm | ×¼ |
| Rain or snow | ×½ |
| Strong winds | ×½ |
These modifiers are cumulative. Thus strong winds and rain are the equivalent of a storm, while a gale with rain is worse than a storm. Flight during a hurricane is just about impossible with some type of magical protection.
Getting Lost
Monsters, bandits, evil wizards, and villainous knights can all make travel in the wilderness dangerous. But none of these is the greatest hazard characters will have to face. Getting lost is equally dangerous and far more common. Once characters are lost, almost anything can happen.
There are two ways of getting lost: There’s just lost and then there’s hopelessly lost. Each is quite different from the other.
Just Lost
Sometimes, characters are lost because they do not know how to get to a specific place. They know where they have been (and how to get back there), but they don’t know the correct route to reach their goal. This occurs most often when following a road, a trail, a map, a river, or a set of directions.
Under these circumstances, there is a reasonable certainty that the player characters will wind up somewhere. After all, roads go from place to place and rivers start and end somewhere. Whether this is where the player characters want to go is another matter entirely. No particular rules are needed to handle these situations, only some confusing forks in the road and the wit (or lack thereof) of the players.
For example, imagine the characters following a well-marked trail. Rounding the corner, they find the trail splits into two equally used trails. The directions they got in the last village said nothing about the trail branching. They must guess which way is the right way to go. In a sense, they are now lost. Once they choose a trail, they do not know if their guess was correct until they get to the end. But, they can always find their way back to the last village. So they are not hopelessly lost. This can also happen when following rivers, roads, or blaze markings.
Hopelessly Lost
Hopelessly lost is another matter altogether. This happens when player characters have no idea where they are, how exactly to get back to where they were, or which way to go to get to where they want to be.
Although it can happen, player characters seldom get hopelessly lost when following some obvious route (a road or river). Trails do not guarantee safety since they have a maddening habit of disappearing, branching, and crossing over things that look like they should be trails (but aren’t).
The chance of getting hopelessly lost can be reduced by sighting on a landmark and keeping a bearing on it, or by hiring a guide. Darkness, overcast days, thick forests, and featureless wastes or plains all increase the chance of getting lost.
Checks for getting hopelessly lost should only be made when the player characters are not following a clear road, river, or trail. Checks should be made when following a little-used trail or when a river empties into a swamp, estuary, or delta. Checks should also be made when moving cross-country without the aid of a trail, river, or road. One check should be made per day.
To make the check, find the entry on Table 81 that best matches the type of terrain the characters are in. This will give a percentage chance to become lost. From this, add or subtract any modifiers found on Table 82. Roll percentile dice. If the die roll is less than the percentage, the characters are lost.
* This would apply, for example, when the characters are sailing out of sight of land.
** The usefulness of directions and the knowledge of a guide are entirely up to the DM. Sometimes these are very helpful but at other times only manage to make things worse.
Dealing With Lost Characters
Once a group is lost, no further checks need be made – they’re lost until they get themselves back in familiar territory (or until they get lucky and happen upon someone who can help them out.
Don’t tell players when their characters are lost! Let them continue to think they are headed in the right direction. Gradually veer them away from their true direction. Player characters should realize for themselves that they’re no longer heading in the right direction. This generally comes when they don’t get to whatever point they hoped to reach.
For example, a group of player characters is following a poor trail through lightly wooded hills on their way to a village three days’ march due west. On the first day, they sensibly set their sights on a large rock to the west as their landmark.
Their chance of getting lost is 15% – 40 for being in wooded hills minus 15 because they’ve got a landmark minus 10 because they’re on a trail (40 – 15 – 10 = 15). The DM checks to see if they become lost and rolls a 07, They’re lost, but they don’t know it!
The players announce that their characters are marching to the west (to follow the landmark), but, unknown to them, the path takes them somewhat southwest. As the characters get close to their landmark, they sight a new one in a straight line beyond it. They think they are still headed west, but their new course is now northwest.
The player characters are likely to realize that they are off course only when they don’t find the village at the end of three days’ marching. At that point, they don’t know just when they got off course and so they are hopelessly lost.
Remember that the best defense against getting lost is not to try to go anywhere in particular. There is little point in checking to see if characters get lost if they don’t have a goal. It is perfectly possible for characters just to strike out “to see what can be seen.” If one has no place to be and no concern about ever getting back, one cannot get lost.
Vision & Light
The ability of your player characters to see something and their ability to be seen are important to the play of the AD&D® game. Characters unable to see monsters have a nasty tendency to be surprised. Characters stomping through the woods waving torches tend to give away their position, making it hard to surprise others. For these and other reasons, you should always be conscious of visibility and light sources when running an adventure.
Effects of light Sources
The types of lighting and their radii are given in the Player’s Handbook. However, these represent only the most basic effects of a light source. There are other effects of carrying a light that do not lend themselves to easy quantification or simple tables.
Being Seen
If player characters are using light to find their way, then not only can they see, but they can also be seen. Hiding one’s light is impossible in this case. Characters using a light to find their way can even be watched by creatures beyond the range of their own light. Since the light source illuminates the area around the player characters, it makes them visible to people or creatures out to the watchers’ normal visibility ranges. The radius of the light source isn’t the issue in this situation.
For example, on a clear plain, a raiding party of orcs could easily see the light of a fire and the silhouettes cast by the characters, even at 1,500 yards. Indeed, since the brightness of the fire is so different from the surrounding darkness, the light would be noticeable at even greater ranges, though details wouldn’t be. Unless characters using a light source take special measures (posting a guard in the darkness, for example), they cannot surprise creatures who can see the light of their fire, torch, or lantern.
Creatures and Light Sources
Light sources, particularly fires, tend either to attract or chase away creatures. Wild animals tend to avoid lights and fires, especially if hunters frequent the area. On the other hand, animals that hunt player characters (or horse meat) will be attracted to a fire. They have learned that fires signal a source of food.
Intelligent creatures always approach a light source with caution. Friendly NPCs don’t know if they are approaching the camp of a friend or foe. Hostile NPCs will likewise get as close as they can without revealing themselves, in order to learn the strength and numbers of the enemy. Only a few NPCs – those wishing to avoid all danger – flee at the sight of a fire, generally heading away the from it in the opposite direction.
Light Tricks and Traps
Sometimes a fire or light source can be used by intelligent creatures as a diversion or trap. One trick is to build a fire and then set up camp away from it. The fire attracts whatever is likely to show up in the area, allowing the characters the chance to ambush the unwary. This is a favorite tactic of many evil and warlike races such as orcs, bugbears, goblins, and bandits. It is also a trick used by adventurers to lure monsters away from their real camp, although this is somewhat dangerous.
Since fires are often used to determine the size and possible strength of an enemy, dull-witted creatures and nervous player characters can be frightened away by building a large number of campfires in an area. The enemy, counting these fires, decides there is a huge force camping here for the night and becomes frightened enough to leave. In reality, each fire might have but a single man or orc tending it.
Although the radius of a light source is the limit a character can effectively see using that source, it is not the absolute limit. The light doesn’t just end there as if it had hit a brick wall. Beyond the radius of the light, there will still be flickering shadows, reflected eyes, and perhaps glints of metal: Now, some of these may be nothing more than the overactive imaginations of the player characters; others may be real threats! The DM can use this unknown factor as a tool to build suspense in his game.
Infravision
There are two definitions of infravision that can be used in the AD&D game. The first is simple but lacks detail. It is, however, a perfectly adequate definition for those who don’t want to bother with the complexities of infravision. The second, optional, definition, adds another level of detail to the game. It allows the DM to create special situations in which the function of infravision becomes important, but requires the DM to keep track of more rules and more details.
Standard Infravision
The easiest definition of infravision is that it allows characters to see in the dark. Nothing more is said about how this works – it simply works. Characters do not see into the infrared spectrum or “see” heat or anything else. They just see the dark as clearly as they do in normal light. However, since it is a somewhat magical power, the range is not that of normal vision – infravision ability extends only 60 feet. Beyond this only normal vision is allowed.
Optional Infravision
This definition is much mere scientific and accurate to what we know of physical properties of the real world. To its advantage, this definition makes infravision very different from normal sight, with its own strengths and weaknesses. To its disadvantage, it introduces a certain amount of scientific accuracy (with all its complications) into a fantasy realm.
According to this definition, infravision is the ability to sense or “see” heat. The best comparison is to thermal imaging equipment used by the armed farces of many different nations today. This special sense is limited to a 60-foot range. Within this range, characters can see the degrees of heat radiated by an object as a glowing blob translated into colors like a thermagram.
If this definition is used, there are several things that must be considered. First, large heat sources will temporarily blind characters with infravision just as looking at a bright light blinds those with normal vision. Thus, those attempting to use infravision must make the effort to avoid looking directly at fires or torches, either their own or the enemy’s. (The light from magical items does not radiate significant heat.) Second, the DM must be ready to state how hot various things are. A literal interpretation of the rule means that characters won’t be able to tell the floor from the walls in most dungeons. All of it is the same temperature, after all.
The DM must also be ready to decide if dungeon doors are a different temperature (or radiate heat differently) from stone walls. Does a different color or kind of stone radiate heat differently from those around it? Dees the ink of a page radiate differently enough from the paper to be noticed? Probably not. Can a character tell an orc from a hobgoblin or a human? Most creatures have similar “thermal outlines” – somewhat fuzzy blobs. They do not radiate at different temperatures and even if they did, infravision is seldom so acute as to register differences of just a few degrees.
Be sure you understand the effects this optional definition of infravision can have – there are dangers in bringing scientific accuracy to a fantasy game. By creating a specific definition of how this power works, the DM is inviting his players to apply logic to the definition. The problem is, this is a fantasy game and logic isn’t always sensible or even desired! So, be aware that the optional definition may result in very strange situations, all because logic and science are applied to something that isn’t logical or scientific.
Other Forms of Sight
If the optional definition of infravision is used, the DM has set a precedent for using scientific laws to explain the ability. Some people, arguing that there are visual organs that can apparently see into the infrared spectrum (using infravision), will also argue for other forms of sight able to see into other ranges of the spectrum. These can be included, if the DM desires. However, before adding these to his game, the DM had best have a firm grasp of the rules and, maybe, of physics.
For example, just what would a character or creature with ultravision (the ability to see into the ultraviolet spectrum) see? Our eyes see objects because of visible light that is reflected off the objects (except for a few objects, such as the sun, light bulbs, fires, etc., that emit enough visible light for us to see them). Infravision utilizes heat (infrared) energy emitted by objects, since almost everything emits infrared energy. The problem with infravision is that many objects, such as normal weapons and rocks, without internal heat sources, are at or very near the temperature of their surroundings and thus are nearly indistinguishable from those surroundings when using infravision. Ultravision (and vision utilizing x-rays, gamma rays, or radio waves) is useless since only stars and a few other celestial objects emit significant amounts of energy in these regions of the electromagnetic spectrum. All would appear uniformly black with these forms of vision, except for a few objects in the sky.
Darkness
Sooner or later characters wind up blundering around in the dark. Normally they try to avoid this, but clever DMs and foolish players generally manage to bring it about. Perhaps the kobolds captured the player characters and stripped them of all their gear; perhaps the characters forgot to bring enough torches. Whatever the reason, those without infravision suffer both physical and psychological effects in the dark.
For the purposes of this discussion, “darkness” means any time the characters suffer from limited visibility. Thus, the rules given here apply equally well when the characters are affected by a darkness spell, blundering about in pea-soup fog, out on a moonless night, or even blindfolded.
Since one can’t see anything in the dark, the safe movement rate of blinded characters is immediately slowed by ⅓ the normal amount. Faster movement requires a Dexterity check (see Chapter 14: Time and Movement). Characters also suffer a -4 penalty to attack rolls and saving throws. Their Armor Class is four worse than normal (to a limit of 10). Sight-related damage bonuses (backstabbing, etc.) are negated. However, darkness is not always absolute, and those DMs who wish to make distinctions between various levels of darkness can use Table 72.
The blindfighting proficiency can lessen the effects of fighting in darkness as explained in the proficiency description in the Player’s Handbook.
*The saving throw modifier applies only to saving throws involving dodging and evasion in these cases.
Invisibility
Invisibility is a highly useful tool for both player characters and DMs. Handled well, it can create surprises and unexpected encounters. However, invisibility requires careful judgment on the part of the DM, lest situations occur that could unbalance a scenario or campaign.
First, an invisible creature is invisible to everyone, including itself. This is normally not a great difficulty; most creatures are aware of their own bodies and don’t need to see their feet to walk, etc. However, when attempting detailed actions (e.g., picking a lock or threading a needle), invisible characters have serious problems, suffering a -3
(or -15%) penalty to their chance of success. This does not apply to spellcasting.
Second, invisible characters are invisible to friend and foe. Unless care is exercised, it is easy for a visible person to blunder into an invisible companion. Imagine a fighter swinging his sword just as he realizes he doesn’t know were good old invisible Merin is standing! The problem is even worse with a group of invisible characters – characters
crash and tumble (invisibly) into one another, all because nobody can see anybody. It would be like having a roomful of people play pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey all at once!
Detecting Invisible Creatures
Invisible creatures and things are not detectable by normal sight or by infravision. They do not create any significant distortion or haze pattern that can be noted. However, invisible creatures aren’t completely undetectable. First, things still cling to them. Flour thrown into the air is useful for this purpose, although it can be easily covered, washed off, or brushed away. Second, they do not leave invisible footprints. Again, flour on the floor is a good way to spot the movement of invisible creatures.
The effects of specific environments are more subtle. Fog and smoke do not reveal invisible creatures. Smoke and fog are filled with swirls and eddies, preventing the creature from being detected. Invisible creatures completely submerged in liquids are also concealed; there is no hollow space or “air bubble” to reveal the creature’s presence. At the surface, an invisible swimmer may be noticed by the observant as an unusual distortion of the waves.
Invisible creatures are not automatically silent. An invisible fighter in plate mail still clanks and rattles as he moves, a dead giveaway to most creatures. They still have scent, so creatures with keen noses can smell them. Indeed, blind, or nearly blind, creatures are unaffected by invisibility.
A detect magic shows only the presence of something magical without pinpointing it exactly. Thus, it cannot be used as a substitute for a detect invisible spell. Furthermore, while an actual light source may be invisible, the light emanating from it is not. This can reveal the location of an invisible character.
When the DM thinks there is minor but sufficient cause for a creature to detect an invisible character, a saving throw vs. spell should be made (secretly if the DM is checking for a player character). A minor cause might be a strange odor, small noise, an object that disappeared when it shouldn’t have, or a strange reaction from another person (who has been pushed, kicked, poked, etc., by the invisible character). Such a saving throw should be allowed for each new event. A wolf would get a save when it detected a strange scent, then shortly after when it heard a stick break, and finally a last chance when the character drew his sword from his scabbard. Furthermore, the acuity of the creature’s senses and its general intelligence can increase or decrease the frequency of checks, at the DM’s discretion.
If the suspicious creature or character rolls a successful saving throw, he detects some small sign of the invisible foe’s presence. He knows its general location, but not its exact position. He can attack it with a -4 penalty on his chance to hit. If the check fails, the creature or character is unaware of the invisible opponent until it does something else that might reveal its presence.
Of course, a revealing action (which could range from an attack to tripping over a pile of pots) immediately negates the need for a saving throw. In such cases, the character has a pretty good idea that something is not right and can take actions to deal with the situation.
Finally, even if an invisible character is suspected, this does not mean the character will be instantly attacked. The result, especially for less intelligent creatures, may only be increased caution. Having scented the intruder, the wolf bristles and growls, protecting its cubs. The rattlesnake will give its warning rattle. Even the orcs may only circle about warily, alert for an ambush.
NPCs
Of all the things the DM does – judging combats, interpreting the actions of the player characters, creating adventures, assigning experience – of all the things he can possibly do, nothing is more important to the AD&D® game than the creation and handling of non-player characters (NPCs). Without non-player characters, the AD&D game is nothing, an empty limbo. The AD&D game is a role-playing game, and for the players to role-play, they must have something or someone to interact with. That’s what NPCs are for, to provide the player characters with friends, allies, and villains. Without these, role-playing would be very dull.
An NPC is any person or creature the player characters must deal with and that the DM has to role-play. The player characters must deal with a trap, but the DM doesn’t role-play a trap. It’s not an NPC. A charging dragon is an NPC – the DM acts out the part of the dragon and the players decide how their characters are going to react to it. There are times when the DM’s role-playing choices are simple (run away or charge), but often the DM’s roles are quite challenging.
For convenience, NPC encounters are generally divided into two broad categories: monsters (those living things that aren’t player character races) and full NPCs (races the player characters commonly deal with). The range of reactions in a monster encounter is generally less than in a full NPC encounter.
The DM has to think of himself as a master actor, quick-change artist, and impressionist. Each NPC is a different role or part the DM must quickly assume. While this may be difficult at first, practice makes the task much easier. Each DM develops certain stock characters and learns the personalities of frequently used NPCs.
There are many different categories of NPCs, but the most frequently encountered are common, everyday folk. Player characters deal with innkeepers, stablers, blacksmiths, minstrels, watchmen, petty nobles, and others, many of whom can be employed by player characters. These NPCs are grouped together as hirelings.
Hirelings
There are three types of hirelings: common, experts, and soldiers. Common hirelings form the vast majority of any population, particularly in an agricultural community. Common hirelings are farmers, millers, innkeepers, porters, and the like. While some of these professions require special knowledge, they don’t, as a rule, require highly specialized training. These are the men and women whose work forms the base upon which civilized life is built.
Expert hirelings are those whose training is specialized. This group includes craftsmen, sages, spies, assassins, alchemists, animal trainers, and the like. Since not everyone is trained in these skills, few experts are available for hire, and these few earn more than the common hireling. Indeed, truly exotic experts (such as spies) are very rare and extremely expensive.
The skills and abilities of expert hirelings can be determined by using the optional proficiency system given in the Player’s Handbook. These define the limits of an expert’s ability and, in general, the time needed to exercise many crafts.
Medieval Occupations
Common and expert hirelings are listed on Table 60. This table, organized alphabetically, lists and describes common medieval occupations. Explanations are provided for the more obscure or unusual professions below. This list provides colorful titles and unusual occupations to make your ordinary hirelings more interesting.
Table 60: NPC PROFESSIONS
Apothecary: a chemist, druggist, or pharmacist
Architect
Armorer
Arrowsmith: A maker of arrowheads
Assassin: killer for hire
Astrologer: A reader of stars and fates
Baker
Barber: A surgeon, bloodletter, dentist, and haircutter
Barrister: A lawyer or one who pleads the case of another before a noble’s court
Beggar
Bellfounder: A caster of bells
Blacksmith
Bloomer: A man who works an iron-smelting forge
Bladesmith: A smith who specializes in sword blades
Bookbinder: A maker of books
Bowyer: A maker of bows
Brazier: A smith who works in brass, sometimes a traveling workman
Brewer: A maker of ales, bitters, stouts, and beer
Bricklayer: A laborer who builds walls and buildings
Butcher
Carpenter
Carrier: One who hauls messages or small goods
Carter: A teamster, a hauler of goods
Cartwright: A builder of wagons and carts
Carver: A sculptor in wood
Chandler: A maker of candles
Chapman: A traveling peddler who normally frequents small villages
Churl: A freedman farmer of some wealth
Clerk: A scribe who generally handles business accounts
Clock maker
Cobbler: A mender of old shoes
Collier: A burner of charcoal for smelting
Coppersmith: A copper worker
Cook
Cooper: A barrelmaker
Cordwainer: A shoemaker
Cutler: A maker of knives and silverware
Dragoman: An official interpreter or guide
Draper: A cloth merchant
Dyer: One who dyes clothing
Embroiderer: A needleworker who decorates fabric with intricate designs of thread
Enameler: A jeweler specializing in enamel work
Engraver: A jeweler specializing in decorative engraving
Farrier: A maker of horseshoes
Fisherman
Fishmonger: A fish dealer
Fletcher: An arrowmaker
Forester: An official responsible for the lord’s woodlands
Fuller: A felt-maker
Furrier: A tailor of fur garments
Gardener
Gem-cutter: A jeweler specializing in gemstones
Gilder: A craftsman of gilt gold and silver
Girdler: A maker of belts and girdles
Glassblower: A maker of items made of glass
Glazier: One who cuts and sets glass
Glover: A maker of gloves
Goldbeater: A maker of gold foil
Goldsmith: A jeweler who works with gold
Grocer: A wholesaler, particularly of everyday items
Groom: A man who tends horses
Haberdasher: A merchant of small notions, thread, and needles
Harpmaker
Hatter: One who makes hats
Herald: A courtier skilled in etiquette and heraldry
Herbalist: A practitioner of herbal cures
Hewer: One who digs coal or other minerals
Horner: A worker of horn
Hosier: A maker of hose and garters
Hosteler: An innkeeper
Interpreter: A translator
Ironmonger: A dealer, not maker, of ironwork
Joiner: A cabinet or furniture-maker
Knife-grinder: A sharpener of knives
Laundress
Laborer
Latoner: A brass-worker
Leech: A non-clerical doctor
Limeburner: A maker of lime for mortar
Limner: A painter
Linkboy: A lantern- or torch-bearer
Locksmith
Lutemaker
Marbler: A cutter and carver of marble
Mason: A worker in building stone, brick, and plaster
Mercer: A cloth dealer
Messenger
Miller: One who operates a grain mill
Miner
Minstrel
Minter: A maker of coins
Nailsmith: A smith specializing in nails
Navigator: One skilled in the arts of direction-finding and navigation
Needler: A person who makes sewing needles
Organmaker
Painter
Parchment-maker
Paviour: A mason specialized in paving streets
Pewterer: One who works pewter
Plasterer: A specialist in plastering
Ploughman: A worker of the field
Porter: A hauler of goods
Potter: A maker of metal or, alternatively, clay pots
Poulterer: A dealer of chickens or other forms of poultry
Pursemaker
Quarrier: One who digs and cuts stone
Saddler: A maker of saddles
Sage: A scholar
Sailor
Saucemaker: A cook who specializes in preparing sauces
Scribe: A secretary or one who can write
Scrivener: A copyist
Seamstress: One whose occupation is sewing
Shearman: A man who trims the loose wool from the cloth to finish it
Sheather: A maker of scabbards and knife sheaths
Shepherd
Shipwright: A builder of ships and boats
Skinner: A butcher who prepares hides for tanning
Soap maker
Spurrier: A maker of spurs
Spy
Swineherd: A keeper of pigs
Tailor
Tanner: A leather-maker
Teamster: A hauler of goods by wagon or cart
Tilemaker
Tinker: A traveling craftsman who repairs tin pots and similar items
Tinner: A tin miner
Trapper
Vintner: A maker of wines
Waller: A mason who sets stones and brick for walls
Waterleader: A water hauler
Weaver: One who makes fabric
Wheelwright: One who makes and repairs wheels
Wiredrawer: A maker of wire
Woodturner: A lathe-worker
The list above is by no means complete. Medieval occupations were highly specialized. A man might spend all his life working as a miner of iron and be considered to have a very different occupation from a miner of tin. Research in a local library will probably yield more such distinctions and even more occupations.
The Assassin, the Spy, and the Sage
Three experts, the assassin, spy, and sage, require special treatment. Each of these, unlike other hirelings, can affect the direction and content of an on-going adventure. Used carefully and sparingly, these three are valuable DM tools to create and shape stories in a role-playing campaign.
Assassins
Assassination is not a discreet occupation per se, but a reprehensible mind-set. The assassin requires no special skills, though fighting, stealth, and even magic are useful. All that is really needed to be an assassin is the desire and the opportunity.
Hiring an Assassin: When a player character hires an assassin (which is not a good or lawful act), he is taking a chance. There is virtually no way to assure oneself of the reliability and dependability of such a person. Anyone willing to make a business out of murder is not likely to have a high degree of morals of any type. Clearly, this is a case of “let the buyer beware!”
Once a character has hired an assassin, it is up to the DM to determine the success of the deed. There are no simple tables or formulae to be followed.
Consider the intended victim: Assassination attempts by one player character against another should not be allowed. This type of behavior only leads to bitterness, bickering, and anger among the players. NPC-sponsored assassination attempts against player characters should be used sparingly, and then only as plot motivators, not as punishment or player controls. Any time a player character is targeted, role-play the encounter fairly – give the PC a chance.
If the intended victim is an NPC, the DM should decide the effect of the assassination on his game. Sometimes, player characters do these things out of spite. At other times the deed may be motivated by simple greed. Neither of these is a particularly good motive to encourage in a campaign.
If the death of the NPC would result in a major reworking of the campaign for no good reason, consider seriously the idea of making the attempt fail. If the death of the NPC would allow the player characters to by-pass or breeze through an adventure you have planned, then it’s not a good idea. Don’t just tell the players, “Oh, that’d be bad for the game so you can’t even try to knock that guy off.” Work the attempt – and its failure – into the storyline.
Precautions: If you decide the attempt is legitimate, consider the precautions the intended NPC victim normally takes. These may make the job particularly difficult or easy. Kings, emperors, high priests, and other important officials tend to be very cautious and well-protected. Wizards, wlth wise magical precautions, can be virtually impossible to assassinate! Devise specific NPC precautions before you know the assassin’s plans.
Wizards make use of Magic Mouth, Alarm, Explosive Runes, and other trap spells. Priests often rely on divination-oriented items to foresee the intentions of others. Both could have extra-dimensional or other-planar servants and guards. They may also have precautions to foil common spells such as ESP, Clairvoyance, and Detect Magic. Kings, princes, and other nobles have the benefit of both magical and clerical protection in addition to a host of possibly fanatically loyal bodyguards. If the victim has advance warning or suspects an attempt, further precautions may be taken, and the job can become even more difficult.
The Plan: After you have decided (secretly) what precautions are reasonable, have the player describe the plan he thinks would work best. This can be simple or involved, depending on the cunning of the player. This is the plan the assassin, not the player character, will use, therefore the player can presume some resources not available to the player character. However, you must decide if these resources are reasonable and truly exist.
For example, if the player says the assassin has a map of the castle, you must tell him if this is reasonable (and, unless the victim is extremely secretive and paranoid, it is). A plan involving a thousand men or an 18th-level thief is not reasonable. The player character hasn’t hired an entire arsenal!
Finally, compare what you know of the precautions to the plan and the success or failure will usually become clear. Ultimately, the DM should not allow assassinations to succeed if he doesn’t want them to succeed!
In general, allowing player characters to hire assassins should not be encouraged. Hiring an NPC to kill even a horrible villain defeats the purpose of heroic role-playing. If the player characters can’t accomplish the deed, why should they be allowed to hire NPCs to do the same thing?
Overuse of assassins can often result in bitter feelings and outright feuding – player vs. player or player vs. DM. Neither of these is fun or healthy for a game: Finally, it is a very risky business. Assassins do get caught and generally have no compunctions about confessing who their employer is. Once the target learns this, the player character will have a very dangerous life. Then the player character can discover the joy and excitement of having assassins looking for him!
Spies
While less reprehensible (perhaps) than assassins, spies involve many of the same risks and problems. First and foremost, a spy, even more than an assassin, is inherently untrustworthy. Spying involves breaking a trust.
A spy, unlike a scout, actively joins a group in order to betray it. A person who can so glibly betray one group could quite easily betray another, his employer perhaps. While some spies may be nobly motivated, these fellows are few and far between. Furthermore, there is no way to be sure of the trustworthiness of the spy. It is a paradox that the better the spy is, the less he can be trusted. Good spies are master liars and deceivers even less trustworthy than bad spies (who tend to get caught anyway).
In role-playing, spies create many of the same problems as assassins. First, in allowing player characters to hire spies, the DM is throwing away a perfectly good roleplaying adventure! Having the characters do their own spying can lead to all manner of interesting possibilities.
Even if NPC spies are allowed, there is still the problem of success. Many variables should be considered: What precautions against spies have been taken? How rare or secret is the information the character is trying to learn? How talented is the NPC spy? How formidable is the NPC being spied upon?
In the end, the rule to use when judging a spy’s suocess is that of dramatic effect. If the spy’s information will create an exciting adventure for the player characters without destroying the work the DM has put into the campaign world, it is best for the spy to succeed.
If the spy’s information will short-circuit a well-prepared adventure or force the DM to rework vast sections of the campaign world, the spy should not succeed: Finally, the spy can appear to succeed while, actually, failing – even if he does return with information, it may not be wholly accurate. It may be slightly off or wildly inaccurate. The final decision about the accuracy of a spy’s information should be based on what will make for the best adventure for the player characters.
Sages
Unlike other expert hirelings, sages are experts in a single field of academic study. They are most useful to player characters in answering specific questions, solving riddles, or deciphering ancient lore. They are normally hired on a one-shot basis, to answer a single question or provide guidance for a specific problem. A sage’s knowledge can be in any area that fits within the limits of the campaign. Typical sage areas are listed on Table 61.
Frequency is the chance of finding a sage with that particular skill in a large city – a university town or provincial capital, at least. Normally, sages do not reside in small villages or well away from population centers. They require contact with travelers and access to libraries in order to gain their information. Roll for frequency only when you can’t decide if such a sage is present. As always, consider the dramatic effect. Will the services of a sage further the story in some exciting way?
Abilities and limitations define specific limitations or rules effects. If this column is blank, the sage’s knowledge is generally thorough on all aspects of the topic. One race only means the sage can answer questions that deal with a particular race. One region only limits his knowledge to a specific area – a kingdom or province. The size of the area depends on the campaign. One plane limits the sage to the study of creatures, conditions, and workings of a single extra-dimensional plane. Where no limitations are given, the sage is only limited by the current state of that science or art in your campaign.
What does a sage know? A sage’s ability can be handled in one of two ways. First, since the DM must answer the question anyway, he can simply decide if the sage knows the answer. As usual, the consideration of what is best for the story must be borne in mind.
If the player characters simply can’t proceed with the adventure without this answer, then the sage knows the answer. If the answer will reward clever players (for thinking to hire a sage, for example) and will not destroy the adventure, then the sage may know all or part of the answer. If answering the question will completely unbalance the adventure, the sage doesn’t know the answer.
Of course, there are times it is impossible to tell the effect of knowing or not knowing something. In this case, the sage’s answer can be determined by a proficiency check, modified by the nature of the question. The DM can decide the sage’s ability or use the following standard: Sage ability is equal to 14 plus 1d6 (this factors in his proficiency and normal ability scores).
If the proficiency check is passed (the number required, or less, on 1d20), the sage provides an answer. If a die roll of 20 is made, the sage comes up with an incorrect answer. The DM should create an incorrect answer that will be believable and consistent with what the players already know about the adventure.
Questions should be categorized as general (“What types of beasts live in the Valley of Terror?”), specific (“Do medusae live in the Valley of Terror?”), or exacting (“Does the medusa Erinxyes live in the Valley of Terror?”). The precision of the question modifies the chance of receiving an accurate answer. Precision modifiers are listed on Table 62.
If a question is particularly complex, the DM can divide it into several parts, each requiring a separate roll. Thus, a sage may only know part of the information needed. This can be very good for the story, especially if some key piece of information is left out.
The resources required by a sage can be formidable. At the very least, a sage must have access to a library of considerable size to complete his work. He is not a walking encyclopedia, able to spout facts on command. A sage answers questions by having the right resources at hand and knowing how to use them. The size and quality of the sage’s library affect his chance of giving a correct answer.
This library can belong to the sage or can be part of an institution. Monasteries and universities typically maintained libraries in medieval times. If a personal library, it must be at least 200 square feet of rare and exotic manuscripts, generally no less than 1,000 gp per book. If the library is connected with an institution, the sage (or his employer) will be expected to make appropriate payments or tithes for its use. Expenses in the range of 1,000 gp a day could be levied against the character. Of course, a sage can attempt to answer a question with little or no library, but his chances of getting the right answer will be reduced as given on Table 62.
Sages need time to find answers, sometimes more time than a player character can afford. Player characters can attempt to rush a sage in his work, but only at the risk of a wrong answer. The normal length of time depends on the nature of the question and is listed on Table 63. Player characters can reduce the sage’s time by one category on this table, but the chance that the sage’s answer will be incorrect or not available grows. These modifiers are also listed on Table 62.
| Table 62: SAGE MODIFIERS | |
| Situation | Success Chance Penalty |
| Question is: | |
| General | 0 |
| Specific | -2 |
| Exacting | -4 |
| Library is: | |
| Complete | 0 |
| Partial | -2 |
| Non-existent | -6 |
| Rushed | -4 |
| Table 63: RESEARCH TIMES | |
| Type of Question |
Time Required |
| General | 1d6 hours |
| Specific | 1d6 days |
| Exacting | 3d10 days |
Soldiers
Soldiers are the last group of hirelings. In a sense, they are expert hirelings skilled in the science of warfare (or at least so player characters hope). However, unlike most experts, their lives are forfeit if their skills are below par. Because of this, they require special treatment. In hindsight, many a deposed tyrant wishes he’d treated his soldiers better! Some of the different types of soldiers characters can hire or encounter are listed on Table 64.
| Table 64: MILITARY OCCUPATIONS | |
| Title | Monthly Wage |
| Archer | 4 gp |
| Artillerist | 4 gp |
| Bowman, mounted | 4 gp |
| Cavalry, heavy | 10 gp |
| Cavalry, light | 4 gp |
| Cavalry, medium | 6 gp |
| Crossbowman, heavy | 3 gp |
| Crossbowman, light | 2 gp |
| Crossbowman, mounted | 4 gp |
| Engineer | 150 gp |
| Footman, heavy | 2 gp |
| Footman, irregular | 5 sp |
| Footman, light | 1 gp |
| Footman, militia | 5 sp |
| Handgunner* | 6 gp |
| Longbowman | 8 gp |
| Marine | 3 gp |
| Sapper | 1 gp |
| Shieldbearer | 5 sp |
*Optional
Descriptions of Troop Types
A general description of each troop type is given here. In addition, specific historical examples are also provided. More examples can be found in books obtainable at a good wargame shop or at your local library. The more specific you make your soldier descriptions, the more detail and color can be added to a fantasy campaign.
Clearly, though, this is a fantasy game. No mention is made in these rules of the vast numbers of strange and bizarre troops that might guard a castle or appear on a battlefield. It is assumed that all the troop types described here are human. Units of dwarves, elves, and more are certainly possible, but they are not readily available as hirelings. The opportunity to employ these types is going to depend on the nature of the campaign and the DM’s wishes. As a guideline, however, no commander (such as the knight of a castle) should have more than one or two exceptional (i.e., different from his own race) units under his command.
Archer: This is a footsoldier, typically armed with a shortbow, arrows, short sword, and leather armor. In history, archers were known to operate as light infantry when necessary, but this was far from universal. Highland Scots carried bows, arrows, two-handed swords, and shields, but no armor. Turkish janissaries were elite troops armed with bow and scimitar, but unarmored. Byzantine psilos carried composite short bows, hand axes, and, if lucky, chain or scale armor. A Venetian stradiot archer (often found on ships) normally had a short bow, long sword, and banded armor.
Artillerist: These troops are more specialists than regular soldiers. Since their duty is to work and service heavy catapults and siege equipment, they don’t normally enter into combat. They dress and outfit themselves as they please. Artillerists stay with their equipment, which is found in the siege train.
Bowmen, mounted: These are normally light cavalry. They carry short bows, a long sword or scimitar, and leather armor, although armor up to chain is sometimes worn. Historically, most mounted bowmen came from nomadic tribes or areas of vast plains.
The most famous mounted bowmen were the Mongol horsemen, who commonly armed themselves with composite short bow, scimitar, mace, axe, and dagger. Some also carried light lances. They wore studded leathers or whatever else they could find, and carried medium shields. Pecheneg horsemen used the composite short bow, hand axe, lasso, and light lance, and wore scale armor. Russian troops carried the short bow and dagger and wore padded armor.
Cavalry, heavy: The classic image of the heavy cavalryman is the mounted knight. Such men are typically armed with heavy lance, long sword, and mace. They wear plate mail or field plate armor. The horse is a heavy war horse and barded, although the type of barding varies.
Examples include the early Byzantine kataphractos, armed with medium lance, long sword, banded armor, and a large shield. They rode heavy war horses fitted with scale barding. The French Compagnies d’Ordonnance fitted with heavy lance, long sword, mace, and full plate on chain or plate barded horses were classic knights of the late medieval period.
In other lands, the Polish hussar was a dashing sight with his tiger-skin cloak fluttering in the charge. He wore plate mail armor and rode an unbarded horse but carried an arsenal of weapons – medium lance, long sword, scimitar, warhammer, and a brace of pistols (although the latter won’t normally appear in an AD&D® game).
Cavalry, light: These are skirmishers whose role in combat is to to gallop in quickly, make a sudden attack, and get away before they can be attacked in force. They are also used as scouts and foragers, and to screen advances and retreats. They carry a wide variety of weapons, sometimes including a missile weapon. Their armor is non-existent or very light – padded leathers and shields. Speed is their main strength. In many ways they are indistinguishable from mounted bowmen and often come from the same groups of people.
The stradiotii of the Italian Wars were unarmored and fought with javelins, saber, and shield. Hussars were armed with scimitar and lance. Byzantine trapezitos carried similar weapons, but wore padded armor and carried a medium shield. Turkish sipahis, noted light cavalrymen, carried a wide variety of weapons, usually a sword, mace, lance, short bow, and small shield.
Cavalry, medium: This trooper forms the backbone of most mounted forces – it’s cheaper to raise medium cavalry than heavy knights, and the medium cavalryman packs more punch than light cavalry. They normally ride unarmored horses and wear scale, chain, or banded armor. Typical arms include lance, long sword, mace, and medium
shield.
A good example of medium cavalry was the Norman knight with lance, sword, chain mail, and kite shield. Others include the Burgundian coustillier (brigandine or splint, light lance, long sword, and dagger), Persian cavalry (chain mail, medium shield, mace, scimitar, and short bow), and Lithuanian boyars (scale, medium lance, long sword, and large shield).
Crossbowmen, heavy: Only rarely used by medieval princes, heavy crossbowmen are normally assigned to garrison and siege duties. Each normally has a heavy crossbow, short sword, and dagger, and wears chain mail. The services of a shield bearer is often supplied to each man.
Venetian crossbowmen frequently served on galleys and wore chain or brigandine armor. Genoese men in German service sometimes wore scale armor for even greater protection.
Crossbowmen, light: Light crossbowmen are favored by some commanders, replacing regular archers in many armies. The crossbow requires less training than the bow, and is easier to handle, making these soldiers cheaper in the long run to maintain. Each man normally has a light crossbow, short sword, and dagger. Usually they do not wear armor. Crossbowmen fight hand-to-hand only to save themselves and will fall back or flee from attackers.
Italian crossbowmen commonly wore padded armor and carried a long sword, buckler, and light crossbow. Burgundians wore a light coat of chain and carried no weapons other than their crossbows. Greek crossbowmen carried a variety of weapons including crossbow, sword, and spear or javelin.
Crossbowmen, mounted: When possible, crossbowmen are given horses, for extra mobility. All use light crossbows, since heavier ones cannot be cocked on horseback. The horse is unbarded, and the rider normally wears little or no armor. As with most light troops, the mounted crossbowman relies on speed to whisk him out of danger. An unusual example of a mounted crossbowmen was the German mercenary (plate mail, light crossbow, and long sword).
Engineer: This profession, like that of the artillerist, is highly specialized, and those skilled in it are not common soldiers. Engineers normally supervise siege operations, both inside and outside. They are responsible for mining castle walls, filling or draining moats, repairing damage, constructing siege engines, and buildirig bridges. Since their skills are specialized and rare, engineers command a high wage. Furthermore, engineers expect rewards for successfully storming castles and towns or for repelling such attacks.
Footman, heavy: Depending on the army, heavy infantry either forms its backbone or is virtually non-existent. Heavy footmen normally have chain mail or better armor, a large shield, and any variety of weapons.
Examples of heavy infantry include Byzantine skutatoi (scale mail, large shield, spear, and long sword), Norman footmen (chain mail, kite shield, and long sword), Varangian Guardsmen (chain mail, large shield, battle axe, long sword, and short sword), late German men-at-arms (plate mail, battle axe, long sword, and dagger), Flemish pikemen (plate mail, long sword, and pike), Italian mercenaries (plate mail, long sword, glaive, and dagger), Irish gallowglasses (chain mail, pole axe, long sword, and darts), and Polish drabs (chain mail, scimitar, and halberd).
Footmen, irregular: These are typically wild tribesmen with little or no armor and virtually no discipline. They normally join an army for loot or to protect their homeland. Their weapons vary widely, although most favor some item traditional to their people.
Examples of irregulars include Viking berserkers (no armor, but shield, and battle axe or sword), Scottish Highlanders (often stripped bare with shield and axe, voulge, sword, or spear), Zaporozian cossacks (bare-chested with a bardiche), or a Hussite cepnici (padded or no armor, flail, sling, and scimitar).
Footman, light: The bulk of infantry tend to be light footmen. Such units are cheap to raise and train. Most come from the lower classes. They are distinguished from irregular infantry by a (barely) greater degree of discipline. Arms and armor are often the same as irregulars.
Typical of light infantry were Swiss and German pikemen (no armor, pike, and short sword), Spanish sword-and-buckler men (leather armor, short sword, and buckler), Byzantine peltastos (padded armor, medium shield, javelins, and sword), even Hindu payaks (no armor, small shield, and scimitar or club).
Footman, militia: These are townsfolk and peasants called up to serve. They normally fall somewhere between irregulars and light infantry in equipment and quality. However, in areas with a long-standing tradition of military service, militiamen can be quite formidable.
Some Italian militias were well-equipped with banded or plate mail armor and glaives. The Irish “rising-out” typically had no armor and fought with javelins and long swords. Byzantine militias were well-organized and often worked as archers (short bow and padded armor) in defense of city walls. The Saxons’ fyrd was supposedly composed of the freemen of a district.
Handgunner: This troop type can be allowed only if the DM approves the use of arquebuses in the campaign. If they are forbidden, this troop type doesn’t exist. Handgunners typically have an arquebus and short sword, and wear a wide variety of armors.
Longbowman: Highly trained and rare, these archers are valuable in battle. They are also hard to recruit and expensive to field. A longbowman typically wears padded or leather armor and carries a long bow with short sword or dirk. Historically, virtually all longbowman were English or Welsh, although they freely acted as mercenaries throughout Europe.
Sapper: These men, also known as miners or pioneers, provide the labor for field work and siege operations. They are generally under the command of a master engineer. Normally they retreat before combat, but if pressed, will fight as light infantry. They wear no armor and carry tools (picks, axes, and the like) that can easily double as weapons. They are usually found with siege trains, baggage trains, and castles.
Shieldbearer: This is a light infantryman whose job is to carry and set up shields for archers and crossbowmen. Historically, these shields (or pavises) were even larger than a normal large shield. Some required two men to move. From behind this cover, the bowman or gunner could reload in relative safety. If the position was attacked, the shieldbearer was expected to fight as an infantryman. For this reason, shieldbearers have the same equipment as light infantry.
Employing Hirelings
Whether seeking everyday workers or rare experts, the methods PCs use for employing hirelings are generally the same. Basically, a player character advertises his needs and seeks out the recommendations of others. Given enough notice, hirelings will then seek out the player character.
Who Might Be Offended?
When hiring, the first step is to figure out if the player character is going to offend anyone, particularly the ruler of the city or town. Feudal lords have very specific ideas about their land and their property (the latter of which sometimes includes the people on his land).
If the hirelings are true freedmen, they can decide to come and go as they please. More often, the case is that the hirelings are bound to the fief. They are not slaves, but they cannot leave the land without the permission of their lord.
Depopulate at Your Own Risk
Depopulating an area will get a strong negative reaction from local officials. If the player character seeks only a few hirelings, he is not likely to run into difficulty unless he wishes to take them away (i.e., back to his own castle). This type of poaching will certainly create trouble.
If Targash, having established his paladin’s castle, needs 300 peasants to work the fields, he cannot go into the nearby town and recruit 300 people without causing a reaction! The lord and the town burghers are going to consider this tantamount to wholesale kidnapping.
Finally, local officials have this funny way of getting upset about strange armies. If Targash comes into town to raise 300 heavy cavalry, the local lord is sure to notice! No one likes strangers raising armies in their territory. It is, after all, a threat to their power.
Securing Permission
Thus, in at least these three situations, player characters would do well to secure the cooperation of local officials before they do anything. Such cooperation is rarely forthcoming without some kind of conditions: A noble may require a cash bond before he will agree to release those under him; guilds may demand concessions to regulate their craft within the boundaries of the player character’s lands; dukes and kings may require treaties or even diplomatic marriages; burghers could ask for protection or a free charter. Anything the DM can imagine and negotiate with the player is a possibility.
Finding the Right People
Once a character has secured permission, he can begin searching for the hirelings he needs. If he needs craftsmen with specific skills, it is best to work through the guild or local authorities. They can make the necessary arrangements for the player character. This also obviates the need to role-play a generally uninteresting situation. Of course, guilds generally charge a fee for their services.
If the character is seeking a large number of unskilled men or soldiers, he can hire a crier to spread the word. (Printing, being undiscovered or in an infant state, is generally not a practical solution.) Fortunately, criers are easily found and can be hired without complicated searching. Indeed, even young children can be paid for this purpose.
At the same time, the player character would be wise to do his own advertising by leaving word with innkeepers, stablers, and the owners of public houses. Gradually, the DM makes applicants arrive.
If the player character is searching for a fairly common sort of hireling – laborers, most commonly – the response is equal to approximately 10% of the population in the area (given normal circumstances).
If the position being filled is uncommon, the response will be about 5% of the population. Openings for soldiers might get one or two respondents in a village of 50. In a city of 5,000 it wouldn’t be unusual to get 250 applicants, a respectable company.
If searching for a particular craft or specialist – a blacksmith or armorer, for instance – the average response is 1% of the population or less. Thus, in a village of 50, the character just isn’t likely to find a smith in need of employment. In a slightly larger village, he might find the blacksmith’s apprenticed son willing to go with him.
Unusual circumstances such as a plague, a famine, a despotic tyrant, or a depressed economy, can easily alter these percentages. In these cases, the DM decides what is most suitable for his campaign. Furthermore, the player character can increase the turnout by offering special inducements – higher pay, greater social status, or special rewards. These can increase the base percentage by 1% to 10% of the population.
The whole business becomes much more complicated when hiring exotic experts – sages, spies, assassins, and the like. Such talents are not found in every city. Sages live only where they can continue their studies and where men of learning are valued. Thus they tend to dwell in great cities and centers of culture, though they don’t always seek fame and notoriety there. Making discreet inquiries among the learned and wealthy is an effective way to find sages. Other experts make make a point not to advertise at all.
Characters who blurt out that they are seeking to hire a spy or an assassin are going to get more than just a raised eyebrow in reaction! Hiring these specialists should be an adventure in itself.
For example, Fiera the Elf has decided she needs the services of a spy to investigate the doings of her archrival. The player, Karen, tells the DM what she intends, setting the devious wheels of the DM’s mind in motion. The DM plans out a rough adventure and, when he is ready, tells Karen that her character can begin the search.
Not knowing where to begin (after all, where does one hire a spy?), Fiera starts to frequent seamy and unpleasant bars, doing her best to conceal her true identity. She leaves a little coin with the hostelers and word of her needs. The DM is ready for this. He has prepared several encounters to make Fiera’s search interesting. There are drunken, over-friendly mercenaries, little ferret-faced snitches, dark mysterious strangers, and venal constables to be dealt with.
Eventually, the DM has several NPCs contact Fiera, all interested in the job. Unknown to the player (or her character) the DM has decided that one applicant is really a spy sent by her rival to act as a double agent! Thus, from a not-so-simple hiring, one adventure has been played and the potential for more has been created.
The Weekly Wage
Once applicants have arrived (and the player has rejected any that seem unsuitable), the issue of pay must be negotiated. Fortunately, this is somewhat standardized for most occupations.
Table 65 lists the amount different trades and craftsmen expect under normal circumstances. From these, salaries for other NPCs can be decided. The wages for soldiers, because of their highly specialized work, are listed on Table 64 (page 108).
These amounts may seem low, but most employers provide other benefits to their hirelings. Appropriate room and board is expected for all but common laborers and higher officials. Those falling in the middle range expect this to be taken care of. Traveling expenses must come out of the PC’s pocket, as must any exceptional items at equipment or dress.
Important hirelings will also expect gifts and perhaps offices to supplement their income. Soldiers expect to be ransomed if captured, to have their equipment replaced as needed, and to receive new mounts for those lost in combat. All of these extra benefits add up quickly. Furthermore, most activities are much more labor-intensive when compared to modern standards. More workers are needed to perform a given job. More workers means greater overall expenses and lower wages for each individual laborer.
For example, consider Targash at his castle. He has assembled the officials, craftsmen, and soldiers he feels he needs to maintain his standing and protect his small fief. These break down as follows:
| 250 | light infantry | 250 gp |
| 50 | heavy infantry | 100 gp |
| 100 | longbowmen | 800 gp |
| 75 | light cavalry | 300 gp |
| 25 | heavy cavalry | 250 gp |
| 1 | master artillerist | 50 gp |
| 10 | artillerists | 40 gp |
| 1 | master engineer | 150 gp |
| 1 | master armorer | 100 gp |
| 5 | armorers | 50 gp |
| 1 | master bladesmith | 100 gp |
| 5 | bladesmiths | 50 gp |
| 1 | master bowyer | 50 gp |
| 1 | bowyer | 10 gp |
| 1 | master fletcher | 30 gp |
| 1 | master of the hunt | 10 gp |
| 8 | huntsmen | 40 gp |
| 10 | grooms | 10 gp |
| 20 | skilled servants (baker, cook, etc.) | 40 gp |
| 40 | household servants | 40 gp |
| 1 | herald | 200 gp |
| 1 | castellan | 300 gp |
| Total | 2,970 gp per month |
|
These costs cover only the wages paid these non-player characters. It does not include the funds necessary to provide provisions, maintain equipment, or expand Targash’s realm (a desire of many player characters). Over the course of a year, Targash must bring in at least 35,640 gp just to pay his hirelings.
Considering a reasonable tax to be one gold piece for each person and one or two silver for each head of livestock, Targash must have a considerable number of people or animals within the borders of his fief or go into debt! Supplementing one’s income thus becomes a good reason for adventuring. However, even powerful, adventuring lords often find themselves forced to borrow to maintain their households.
And these costs don’t even begin to cover the salaries demanded by any extremely rare hirelings Targash may need. Spies and assassins normally demand exorbitant wages, 5,000 to 10,000 gold pieces or more. And they are in a position to get away with it. Aside from the fact that not many can do their job, they can also force an employer to pay through blackmail. The act of hiring must be secret, not only to succeed, but to prevent the character from being embarrassed, disgraced, or worse. Woe to the employer who attempts to cheat his assassin!
Others can also resort to such blackmail. Mercenaries may refuse to go on campaign until they are properly paid (a tactic used by the condottieri in Italy). Peasants have been known to revolt. Guilds may withdraw their support. Merchants can always trade elsewhere. All of these serve as checks and balances on the uncontrolled power of any ruler from local lord to powerful emperor.
Henchmen
Sooner or later, all players are going to discover the value of henchmen. However, knowing that henchmen are useful and playing them properly are just not the same. Misused and abused henchmen can quickly destroy much of the fun and challenge of a campaign.
As stressed in the Player’s Handbook, a henchman is more than just a hireling the player character can boss around. A henchman is a PC’s friend, confidante, and ally. If this aspect of the NPC is not stressed and played well, the henchman quickly becomes nothing more than a cardboard character, depriving the DM of a tool he can use to create a complete role-playing experience. For the DM, a henchman is just that – a tool, a way of creating an exciting story for the player characters.
An NPC Becomes a Henchman
There is no set time at which a player character acquires a henchman. Running a player character and a henchman together is more difficult than just a player character alone. Not every player will be ready for this at the same time, so the DM should control which players get henchmen and when. Wait until the player has demonstrated the ability to roleplay his own character before burdening him with another. If the player does not assume at least some of the responsibility for role-playing the henchman, the value is lost.
Neither is there a set way to acquire a henchman. The DM must use his own judgment. Since a henchman is a friend, consider those things that bind friends together. Being treated as equals, helping without expecting reward, trust, kindness, sharing secrets, and standing by each other in times of trouble are all parts of it.
When a character does these things for an NPC, a bond will develop between them. The DM can allow the player to have more and more control over the NPC, deciding actions, role-playing reactions, and developing a personality. As the player does this, he begins to think of the NPC almost as another player character. When the player is as concerned about the welfare of the NPC as he would be for a normal player character, that NFC can be treated as a henchman.
The Player Takes Over
Once the DM decides that an NPC is a henchman, he should make two copies of the NPC’s character sheet, one for himself and one for the player. Not everything need be revealed on the player’s copy – the DM may choose to conceal alignment, experience point totals, special magical items, or character background. However, the player should have enough information to role-play the henchman adequately. It is hard to run a character properly without such basic information as Strength, Intelligence, race, or level. Ideally, the player should not have ask the DM, “Can my henchman do this?”
Naturally, the DM’s character sheet should have complete information on the henchman. Moreover, the DM should also include a short description of the henchman in appearance, habits, peculiarities, personality, and background. The last two are particular important.
Establishing the personality of the henchman allows the DM to say “No, your henchman refuses to do that,” with reason. The astute player will pick up on this and begin playjng the henchman appropriately.
A little background allows the DM to build adventures that grow out of the henchman’s past. An evil stranger may come hunting for him; his father may leave him a mysterious inheritance; his wife (or husband) may arrive on the doorstep. Even a little history is better than nothing.
A henchman should always be of lower level than the player character. This keeps the henchman from stealing the spotlight. If the henchman is equal or greater in level, he could become as, or more, important than the player character. The player might neglect his own character, an undesirable result. Thus, if a henchman should reach an equal level, he will depart the service of the player character and set out on his own adventures. This doesn’t mean he disappears forever. He is still present in the campaign, can still show up periodically as a DM-controlled NPC, and can still be considered a friend of the player character.
Role-Playing Henchmen
The player is responsible for deciding a henchman’s actions, provided they are in character for the NPC. This is one of the advantages of the henchman over the hireling. The DM should only step in when the player is abusing or ignoring the personality of the NPC.
For example, Fenris, a henchman known for his sarcastic and somewhat self-centered view, has been captured along with his master, Drelb the Halfling, by a band of twisted trolls.
DM (playing the trolls): “Ha! My brothers and I are going to roast one of you and let the other one go! So, who’s going to hang from the spit?”
Player; “Well, uh … Fenris remembers how many times Drelb has saved his life. He volunteers.”
DM: “Is Drelb telling the trolls this? Fenris is going to be real upset if he is.”
Player; “No, no! It’s just what Fenris would do.”
DM: “Sure. He thinks about it and, you know, it doesn’t seem like a real viable solution to the problem. He leans over to Drelb and says, ‘You always wanted to sweat off a few pounds, Drelb.'”
Clearly, there are times when the DM can step in and overrule a player decision regarding henchmen. There are things a henchman simply will not do. The relationship is supposed to be that of friendship. Therefore, anything that damages a friendship sours a henchman. The DM should think about those things he would never ask of a friend or have a so-called friend ask of him. If it would ruin one of his own friendships, it will do the same in the game.
For example, henchmen don’t give useful magical items to player characters, don’t stand by quietly while others take all the credit, don’t take the blame for things they didn’t do, and don’t let themselves be cheated. Anyone who tries to do this sort of thing is clearly not a friend.
Henchmen don’t, as a rule, go on adventures without their player character friend unless the purpose of the adventure is to rescue the PC from danger. They don’t appreciate being given orders by strangers (or even other player characters}, unless their PC friend is also taking orders.
Henchman Bookkeeping
As the henchman is played, it is the player’s responsibility to keep track of any information about the henchman that isn’t kept secret. Not only does this make running the game a small bit easier for the DM, it forces the player to pay attention to his henchman.
Among the things a player should keep track of is a henchman’s experience point total. Henchmen do earn experience points from adventures and can advance in level. However, since they are not full player characters, they only earn half the experience a character would normally get.
They also expect their fair share of treasure and magical items discovered – more, if they took a significant risk. They expect the same care and attention the player character receives when they are injured or killed. Indeed it is possible for a forsaken henchman to return as a vengeful spirit to wreak havoc on those who abandoned him!
Officials and Social Rank
Some NPCs are available for hire; others, because of social rank or profession, can be hired only under special circumstances; still others can only be encountered and, maybe, befriended, but never hired. Indeed characters are not defined by profession only. Just as important (and sometimes more important) is the NPC’s social status.
A serf carpenter is lower than a churl ploughman, even if his skills are more complicated. Some titles prevent an NPC from pursuing a particular career. A king is not a tinner or a wealthy draper – he is a king.
The tables below list some of the different types of NPCs that can be encountered based on social organizations. Each grouping is arranged from the greatest to the least, the mightiest to the lowest. The DM should not feel bound only to the hirelings and soldiers given in Tables 60 and 64. Imagination, history, and fantasy should all contribute to the game.
The tables show social and political ranks for different types of historical cultures, arranged in descending order of importance. Each column describes a different culture.
Titles, Offices, and Positions
Alderman: A town or city official
Ale-conner: Official who tests and approves all ales and ciders
Anchorite: A religious hermit
Bailiff: A sergeant or commander of the guard
Beadle: A messenger of the law courts
Burgomaster: A town or city official
Catchpoll: A commander of the guard
Chamberlain: Overseer of a household, office or court
Common-weigher: Town official who checks merchants’ weights and measures
Constable: A commander of the local guard
Councilor: A town or city official or an advisor of the court
Customs agent: One responsible for collecting the taxes on all imports and exports
Magistrate: A judge
Man-at-arms: A guardsman
Page: Servant to a noble
Pardoner: A friar who sells pardons from the church
Provost: A magistrate or keeper of a prison
Provost-Marshal: Military magistrate
Purveyor: An official responsible for obtaining supplies for an army or a noble’s retinue
Reeve: The headman of a village
Regent: The ruler until a prince reaches the age of majority
Sergeant: The commander of a unit of men, such as a guard
Sheriff: The king’s representative for a given area
Slaughter-man: Official who enforces the regulations on butchers in a town
Steward: Custodian of an appointed duty, such as a household
Tax collector: One who collects taxes
Tronager: Supervisor of the scales at a town’s port
Umpire: An official who arbitrates disputes between neighbors
Warden: The keeper of a noble’s woodlands and parks
Wardman: A sergeant or watchman
Watchman: A guard
Spellcasters
There will come a time when player characters feel in dire need of a particular spell or spells to which no one in their group has access. They may need to raise a fallen comrade, remove an evil enchantment, or provide an additional protection. The natural solution is to find an NPC willing and able to cast the spell. This can create special difficulties for both the players and the DM.
Finding a Spellcaster
Locating a capable NPC is the first step. Not all NPCs advertise their abilities; this is especially true in the case of spellcasters. Bragging that one is the great and powerful wizard Wazoo can be bad for one’s health. There is always a young hot-shot who will take the claim as a challenge. (Sort of like the Old West, where there was always someone itching to beat the fastest gun…)
For this reason, spellcasters tend to be mysterious or, at least, quiet about their abilities. Churches, temples, and other holy places tend to be the best places to look since clerics have some obligation to proclaim the powers of their deity openly.
Convincing the NPC to Help
Assuming the player characters know of a capable spellcaster, there is still the problem of convincing the NPC to cast the desired spell. Often the NPC won’t even have the spell ready when the characters need it. After all, it isn’t every day a cleric needs to cast a raise dead spell. He will need a day just to rest and memorize the desired spell.
Religious Differences: The faith of the player characters and the ethos of the NPC’s religion may pose an even greater problem than spell availability. It is quite possible for a cleric to refuse to cast a spell to aid an “unbeliever,” “heathen,” or “heretic.” Some may agree, but only at the cost of a donation, service, or conversion. A rare few accept any and all without passing any judgment. In general, it is best to seek the services of a like-minded cleric than to go to a stranger.
Money: For some clerical spellcasters and most non-clerical types, spellcasting is more a matter of finances than philosophies. If the characters find a capable spellcaster, they must be prepared to pay (and pay dearly) for his services. For a desperately needed service, the NPC knows he has the player characters over a barrel and will bargain accordingly.
Table 69 gives some idea of the costs for different spells. These costs are not set, by any means, and can be raised (but seldom lowered) for a variety of reasons.
| Table 69: NPC SPELL COSTS | |
| Spell Required | Minimum Cost |
| Astral Spell | 2,000 gp per person |
| Atonement | * |
| Augury | 200 gp |
| Bless | * |
| Charm Person | 1,000 gp |
| Clairvoyance | 50 gp per level of caster |
| Commune | * |
| Comprehend Languages | 50 gp |
| Contact Other Plane | 5,000 gp + 1,000 per question |
| Continual Light | 1,000 gp |
| Control Weather | 20,000 gp |
| Cure Blindness or Deafness | 500 gp |
| Cure Disease | 500 gp |
| Cure Light Wounds | 10 gp per point healed |
| Cure Serious Wounds | 20 gp per point healed |
| Cure Critical Wounds | 40 gp per point healed |
| Detection spells (any) | 100 gp |
| Dispel Magic | 100 gp per level of the caster |
| Divination | 500 gp |
| Earthquake | * |
| Enchant an Item | 20,000 gp plus other spells |
| ESP | 500 gp |
| Explosive Runes | 1,000 gp |
| Find the Path | 1,000 gp |
| Fire Trap | 500 gp |
| Fool’s Gold | 100 gp |
| Gate | * |
| Glyph of Warding | 100 gp per level of the caster |
| Heal | 50 gp per point healed |
| Identify | 1,000 gp per item or function |
| Invisible Stalker | 5,000 gp |
| Invisibility | 500 gp |
| Legend Lore | 1,000 gp |
| Limited Wish | 20,000 gp** |
| Magic Mouth | 300 gp |
| Mass Charm | 5,000 gp |
| Neutralize Poison | 100 gp |
| Permanency | 20,000 gp** |
| Plane Shift | * |
| Prayer | * |
| Protection From Evil | 20 gp per level of the caster |
| Raise Dead | * |
| Read Magic | 200 gp |
| Regenerate | 20,000 gp |
| Reincarnation | * |
| Remove Curse | 100 gp per level of the caster |
| Restoration | * |
| Slow Poison | 50 gp |
| Speak With Dead | 100 gp per level of the caster |
| Suggestion | 600 gp |
| Symbol | 1,000 gp per level of the caster |
| Teleport | 2,000 gp per person |
| Tongues | 100 gp |
| True Seeing | 5,000 gp |
| Wish | 50,000 gp** |
| Wizard Lock | 50 gp per level of the caster |
*This spell is normally cast only for those of similar faith or belief. Even then a payment or service may be required.
**Some exceptional service will also be required of the player character.
In general, the costs of purchasing a spell are such that it is far better for someone in the party to learn the spell. In general, the mercenary use of NPC spellcasters should be discouraged whenever possible. The player characters are supposed to face challenges on their own!
NPC Magical Items
If player characters have the nerve to ask NPCs (not hirelings or henchmen) to use up valuable magical items or charges from these, they are going to get a very cold reaction. Consider how often player characters sell or give away the magic items they find during their adventures. Non-player characters will have about the same likelihood of selling (or giving!) powerful magic away. Offering to buy a charge from a staff of healing is just plain insulting. No NPC’s reaction is going to be improved by the offer.
Personality
More than what they can do, how much they cost, or how loyal they are, NPCs live only when they have personalities. Poorly played, an NPC can easily be reduced to nothing more than a collection of numbers, spells, equipment, and automatic reactions – a role-playing automaton. Vivid NPCs are much more than this. These characters, developed and acted by the DM, are complete. They have quirks, likes, dislikes, habits, ambitions, and desires. In one way or another they fire and remain in the imagination of the players.
Some DMs have the naturally ability to create such characters on the spur of the moment, improvising as they go along. This is a rare gift, not possessed by most. However, this doesn’t mean any DM can’t create good NPCs. All that’s required is a little effort.
Walk-On NPCs
There are several shortcut methods that can be used when role-playing NPCs who only have brief appearances – the “walk-ons” and “cameos” of a role-playing adventure.
Character Traits: The DM can choose some particular character trait – cowardice, greed, optimism, precision, or whatever – and exaggerate it, take it to an extreme. This is most effective for creating comical (or frustrating) situations.
Physical Traits: A particular physical trait – baldness, pot-bellied, bad teeth, wheezy, and more – can be stressed. This helps fix the appearance of the NPC in the players’ minds, especially useful if the characters must describe or find that NPC again.
Habits: Like physical traits, simple habits – scratches his head, tugs on his beard, stares at the sky when talking, or mumbles – can be used. The DM can actually act out these simple habits at the table, adding a visual element to the role-playing experience.
Significant NPCs
For very important NPCs, hirelings, and henchmen, the DM is going to need more than just a single character feature. Saying that a hireling is greedy is not enough. It doesn’t make him any different from all the other greedy NPCs the player characters have met.
Perhaps he struggles to control his natural greediness, out of loyalty. He may break into cold sweats and become nervous when the player character accidentally tempts him (“Here, hold my horse while I go see what’s making that noise.”). Will he remain loyal or will his baser nature get the best of him? The answer to this question should come out through role-playing.
Enough little questions like this – and enough role-played answers – will bring the NPC’s true character into focus. And if the DM pays attention to the personality of the NPCs, the players will also learn and study those characters.
Creating an NPC Personality: The best way to create a personality is to use whatever seems right and not worry about carefully constructing a background and rationale for the character. The DM has to keep careful notes about each major NPC, adding to it each play session. After several sessions, the NPC may have a complete background and personality, one that has come out little-by-little during play.
Alternatively, the DM can prepare a personality in advance. This simply means he prepares some background notes before he begins to play that character. This is useful for powerful villains and important officials. However, during play, the DM should be flexible enough to change any part of the NPC’s background that just doesn’t work.
To aid in the process of creating NPCs, Table 70 lists different types of attitudes, tendencies, and habits. These are organized into major traits, with similar characteristics grouped under each.
The DM can choose a major trait and any appropriate characteristics; he can randomly determine the major trait (rolling 1d20) and select appropriate characteristics; or he can randomly determine everything (1d20 for a major trait, percentile dice for characteristics).
For example, the DM randomly determines a hireling is careless, selects thoughtless from that sub-group and then rolls for an additional characteristic, getting cheerful. The end result is a somewhat scatter-brained, happy-go-lucky person.
This table is provided to spur the imagination of the DM, although it can be used to create completely random personalities. However, random methods often lead to confusing and seemingly impossible combinations! If a result seems totally impossible or unplayable, don’t use it simply because that’s how the dice rolls came up. Whenever possible, the DM should decide the personality of the NPC!
Other NPC Characteristics
Of course, NPCs are more than just personalities and character traits. Each NPC, like each player character, has abilities and a unique physical appearance. However, considering NPCs come from the entire range of humanity (and some fantasy races, as well!), no tables are given to fill in these details. A few tables simply cannot do justice to the huge variety of an entire game world.
Furthermore, the physical appearance and abilities should be determined by the needs of the story, not random choice. If the player characters are dealing with an innkeeper, the NPC should be an ordinary person, not a powerful member of a character class. Furthermore, he should act, dress and behave like an innkeeper. Therefore, the DM could decide the innkeeper is fat and florid, over-talkative, with no exceptional ability scores.
On the other hand, say the PCs encounter a mysterious stranger, a character of great power. Here, the DM decides the stranger’s mere appearance radiates a powerful charismatic appeal. The stranger’s Charisma score is exceptionaily high. To make the NPC even more impressive, the DM assigns him a character class and quite a high level.
In both examples above, the DM decided what effect he wanted from the NPC and built the character around that.
Every aspect of an NPC is a tool for the DM. Some are quite obvious, others may arise only in special occasions. Listed below are some of the areas a DM can use to create a distinctive character. Some descriptive words have been listed for each area to spur the imagination. A good thesaurus can provide even more adjectives useful for describing characters.
Game Information: Character class (if any), level (if any), race, alignment.
Age: ancient, child, decrepit, elderly, middle-aged, patriarchal, teen-aged, venerable, youthful.
Height: bean-pole, gangly, gigantic, hulking, lanky, looming, runt, short, small, stumpy, tall, tiny, willowy.
Weight: broad-shouldered, fat, gaunt, obese, plump, pot-bellied, rotund, scarecrow, skinny, slender, slim, statuesque, stout, thin, trim.
Hair: bald, braided, color (any), cropped, curly, frazzled, greasy, grizzled, leonine, limp, salt-and-pepper, sparse, straight, thick, thin, wavy, widow’s peaked, wiry.
Manner of speech: accented, breathless, crisp, guttural, high-pitched, lisp, loud, nasal, slow, squeaky, stutter, wheezy, whiny, whispery.
Facial characteristics: bearded, bucktoothed, chiseled, doe-eyed, fine-featured, florid, gap-toothed, goggle-eyed, grizzled, jowled, jug-eared, pock-marked, pug nose, ruddy, scarred, squinty, thin-lipped, toothless, weather-beaten, wrinkled.
Of course, there are thousands of possible NPC aspects that could also be used: skin color, stature, bearing, gait, and eye color are only a few more. Sometimes it is useful for a DM to make a list of all the words he can think of that describe a person. Once such a list is made, the DM can keep that with his game notes, ready to use any time he needs to quickly characterize an NPC.
Loyalty
Since NPCs, even henchmen, are supposed to be unique personalities, they are not slavishly obedient or bound to the player characters. Thus, NPCs associated with the player characters in any way must have a morale rating. This rating is for the DM’s use only and is always kept secret from the players.
Morale
An NPC’s morale rating depends on his position, his personality, the quality of his treatment, and the player character. Henchmen and hirelings each have a base morale which is then modified by a number of factors.
The base morale for henchman is 12 and the base for a hireling is 10. The modifiers to the base morale are given on Table 71 below and on Table 50 (page 70).
| Table 71: PERMANENT MORALE MODIFIERS | |
| Factor | Modifier |
| NPC is lawful* | +1 |
| NPC is good | +1 |
| NPC is evil | -1 |
| NPC is chaotic* | -1 |
| NPC is different race from PC | -1 |
| NPC has been with PC for one year or more | +2 |
* These modifiers also appear on Table 50. Do not apply them twice.
An NPC must roll a morale check when the combat rules call for one (see page 69). In combat situations, the NPC who fails a morale check will retreat or flee as noted under Combat. The DM can require other checks as he feels are appropriate.
Morale checks are also appropriate when an NPC is faced with temptation. A failed roll means the NPC gives in to the temptation. Note that temptation can take many forms other than outright bribes. The opportunity to right an injustice, strike back at a hated employer, work for one’s real beliefs, or get revenge for a long-held grudge are all forms of temptation.
For such subtle forms of temptation, the NPC’s reaction may not be immediately obvious to the player characters. The NPC may desert in time of need, spy on a player character, rob the character of some valuable item, attempt to assassinate the player character, or directly betray the player character to his enemies. Indeed, he may remain in the service of the player character for a long time after the check has failed, waiting for his opportunity to strike.
Quick NPCs
Creating a full-blown NPC with a history, unique physical characteristics, personality traits, skills, a morale rating, and so on, is a time-consuming process, something the DM can’t do in the middle of a game session. Fortunately, there are quick ways around this problem. By using these, the DM can create NPCs on the spot without slowing down his game sessions.
1. Create only as much of the character as the players are going to see in the game. First and foremost, the DM should never create more than he needs. Running a role-playing game is a big job and there is no need to create more work than is necessary.
If an NPC is just an innkeeper or a groom or a smith, the DM doesn’t need ability scores, proficiencies, or detailed lists of equipment. All he really needs is a physical description and a personality.
When the player characters run into a hostile fighter, personality is not tremendously important. In this case all that is needed is level, Strength, weapons, and Armor Class.
2. Create and use stock characters but don’t let them dominate. While it is fine to have every innkeeper and groom and smith different, this creates a lot of work on the DM. Some DMs are quick enough and creative enough actors to do this with no problem; others are not. There is nothing wrong with having a standard or stock shopkeeper or peasant.
If an NPC is minor or unimportant, role-playing a detailed and intriguing personality can even get in the way of the story! The players may remember that character and perhaps forget more important ones. They may decide this minor character is important to the plot. In a sense, the DM’s creation has stolen the scene.
Balancing major and minor characters isn’t easy, however. If all the minor NPCs are stock characters, the game will eventually become dull and boring. The players will resign themselves to meeting yet another crotchety, old peasant or greedy and suspicious innkeeper.
Create as you go. The DM can start with nothing more than an idea of what he wants an NPC to be like and then ad lib the personality and description during the course of play. This allows to him to create a character that interacts with the imaginations of the players, since the DM reacts to their suggestions and actions.
However, the DM who does this has to be careful to be consistent. This can be hard since he is making it all up on the fly. He should be sure to keep notes of what each NPC does and what he becomes as he develops. This way the NPC can remain the same from game session to game session.
3. Do your homework before and after game sessions. If the DM knows the characters are going to meet a particular NPC, he should at least make some basic notes about that character before the start of the game. These may be only a few scribbles about personality, but it will at least provide a starting point.
After a game session, the DM should add to those notes, expanding them with anything that came up during that session. If these notes are maintained and the NPCs filed so they can be found again, the DM will have less and less work to do each time. With time, important NPCs, stock characters, and improvised encounters will take on unique personalities and backgrounds. This enriches the game for everyone and makes that DM’s game just that much better than the next guy’s.
Encounters
If the imaginations of players and DMs are the fuel of the AD&D® game, encounters are the engine that makes it go. Without encounters, nothing happens. Without encounters, player characters can’t slay fearsome trolls, rescue the villagers from a band of orcs, chase down a petty thief, outwit an evil wizard, or humble a mighty tyrant. Encounters make up the plot of the adventure, each in some way furthering the tale or building the background of your campaign world. Without encounters, without the opportunity to meet and deal with others, your campaign world is just going nowhere.
To use encounters, it is important to understand what they are. An encounter is a meeting with an NPC or monster, or an event that might affect the player characters. As DM, you:
- Create in advance the thing, person, event, or monster encountered
- Describe the scene of the encounter to the players
- Role-play the reactions of all creatures involved, except the player characters
- Describe the results of player character actions during the encounter.
These are a big part of the DM’s duties in a role-playing game (in addition to the task of interpreting the rules and handling the mechanics of play).
What is an Encounter?
An encounter is best defined by two broad criteria. If the described event lacks either of these, it isn’t a true encounter. It may be a described scene, an event, or a bit of mundane business, but it is not a role-playing encounter.
First, an encounter must involve a thing, an event, NPCs (characters or monsters), or DM-controlled player character. A meeting of two player characters (handled by the players alone) is not an encounter. It is an action between the players themselves.
Second, an encounter must present the possibility of a meaningful change in a player character’s abilities, possessions, or knowledge, depending upon the player’s decisions. The keys here are meaningful change and player decision. For a character with 500 gp in his pocket, going into a tavern and spending three gp on drinks is not a meaningful change. If the character had to spend the same 500 gp in the same tavern to get information about the Black Tower across the river, the character has experienced a meaningful change – he’s now broke.
If the player doesn’t make a decision, then he’s just coasting along, letting the DM do everything. Going into a tavern and spending three gp on food and drink isn’t much of a decision. Choosing to go bankrupt to learn what may or may not be useful information is fairly significant. The player is going to have to think about the choice. How badly does he want this information? How reliable is this informant? Does he need the money for something else – like new equipment? Can he get a better price?
The presence of an active force and the possibility for change based on player decision are what make a true role-playing encounter. Take, for example, the situations given below. Try to figure out which of the four is a true encounter, as defined above.
1. Rupert and Algorond, a gnome, are exploring a cave. Algorond is in the lead. Without any warning the ceiling directly over him collapses, crushing the little gnome instantly. He is dead, and all Rupert can do is dig out the body.
2. Rupert, a 10th-level fighter, meets three lowly orcs. They charge and, not surprisingly, Rupert slices them to ribbons. He isn’t even harmed. Searching the chamber, he finds a sword +1. Rupert already has a sword +3 and is not particularly interested in this weapon.
3. Rupert reaches into his pocket only to discover that the gem he pried from a heathen idol is gone! Thinking about it, he decides the only person who could have taken it was his fellow party member (and player character) Ragnar the Thief. Unhesitatingly, he whips out his sword and holds it at Ragnar’s throat. Ragnar reaches for his hidden dagger.
4. Rupert and Taras Bloodheart are riding across the plain. Just as they crest a low ridge, they see a cloud of smoke and dust in the distance. They halt and watch for a little while. The dust cloud slowly moves in their direction, while the smoke dwindles. Moving their horses to a hollow, they watch the approach of the mysterious cloud from a thicket.
So, which of these four is a true encounter? Only the last one. The first didn’t involve any player choice. The gnome is crushed, and there wasn’t anything either player character could do about it. Not only is this not an encounter, it isn’t fair. It could have been an encounter (with a trapped ceiling), if there had been signs beforehand (clattering stones, previous deadfalls, groaning stones) and if the gnome had been given the opportunity to act before the rock squashed him. The player choice could have been to heed or ignore the warnings and leap forward, back, or stand confused when the rock fell.
The second had player choice, but it wasn’t particularly meaningful or balanced. The player knew his character could win the combat so his choice to fight was insignificant. He knew the sword was less potent than the one he already had, so his choice not to keep it was, likewise, not a choice at all. The situation could have been an encounter if the orcs had actually been ogres concealed by an illusion or if the sword had special unrevealed powers. Either of these would have made the character’s actions meaningful.
The third situation has all the trappings of an encounter. There is meaningful choice and anything could happen next. However, this is a squabble between player characters, not something the DM has control over. It does not further the plot or develop campaign background. Indeed, such disharmony will only hurt the game in the long run. It could have become an encounter if an invisible NPC thief had done the deed instead of Ragnar. Rupert and Ragnar, eventually realizing the confusion, would have suddenly found themselves united in a new purpose – to find the culprit. Of course, there would also be role-playing opportunity as Rupert tried to make amends while Ragnar remembered the insult!
The fourth example is a true encounter, even though it doesn’t seem like much is happening. The players have made significant decisions, particularly to stay and investigate, and they are faced by an unknown creature. They do not know what they face and they do not know if it will be for good or ill. The dust cloud could be a djinni or a hostile air elemental. It could be a war-band of 100 orcs or giant lizards. The players don’t know but have decided to take the risk of finding out.
In role-playing games, encounters fall into one of two general categories – planned (or placed) encounters and random (or wandering) encounters. Each contributes to the overall excitement and adventure of the game.
Planned Encounters
A planned encounter is one the DM has prepared in advance, one tied to a specific place, event, or condition. These can be divided into keys and triggers.
Keys
The simplest of planned encounters is called a key – a listing of who lives where, what they have, and what they might do if a character enters their room, visits their farm, or explores their cave. This key can also contain colorful details about otherwise boring or empty rooms, creating detail for the player characters to explore. Here’s how a sample key for ogre’s den, a three-chambered cave, might be written.
- Main Chamber: One passage of this chamber leads to the outside, a narrow cleft in the rock hidden behind some bushes. Following this, the passage widens after 10′. The walls are coated with soot and there is a large pit in the center of the floor filled with ashes and charred bits of bone. The ashes are warm and the rocks of the pit are still hot to the touch. The chamber stinks of burned meat and leather. There is a lot of rubbish on the floor but there is nothing of value here. At the far end, the cleft once again narrows to a passage.
- Sleeping Chamber: Here the air is thick with smells of animal sweat and worse. There is a loud rumbling from the far side of the chamber. There, sleeping under a mound of crudely skinned furs, is a large ogre. Next to him is a large wooden club. Hanging from the walls are bits of bright cloth, shiny buckles, and tarnished badges. A few simple torches, now unlit, are wedged in the cracks.
If the characters don’t move slowly in this room, one will kick a metal helmet across the floor, waking the ogre. Groggy for one round, he then attacks the group. Just beyond the nest is another passage. - Treasure Room: The entrance to this chamber is blocked by a large boulder that must be rolled into the room to get it out of the way. Characters must roll a successful bend bar/lift gates check to move it. (Several characters can work together, totaling their chances into a single roll.) Inside the room are the treasures of the ogre. These include 500 gp, 3 gems (worth 10, 500, and 100 gp), a suit of chain mail +1 the beast cannot use, and a mound of horse trappings, bridles, and saddles. Aside from the bats, there are no creatures in the chamber.
When you write a key, describe the way the scene looks as accurately as possible. Also think what sounds the player characters might hear, what they’d smell, what the place feels like, and so on. Writing a good key is like writing a good story. At the very least, include the following information for every location:
- Any monsters or NPCs found there
- What equipment and magical items the monsters will use
- Any other magical items that can be found in the room
- Any treasure (and its location)
- Any other unusual items of interest. This can include colorful details to help you describe the area or clues to warn characters of danger ahead.
The key can also include special conditions that must be met while in the area. In the example above, there were penalties for not being alert and cautious (kicking the helmet) and requirements for Strength (moving the boulder).
However, keys are static – things don’t change that much. No matter whether the characters enter at noon or midnight, the ogre will be sleeping. He won’t be cooking his dinner, out hunting, or picking his teeth with his toes.
For fairly simple scenes this is fine, but the situation gets ridiculous for more complicated situations. Imagine a farm where the farmer was always in the field or a castle where dinner was continually being served!
Static also means that events in one place don’t affect things in another. If the characters heave the boulder out of the way, won’t the noise awaken the ogre? Not according to the description as it is given, although a good DM would certainly consider the possibility. Writing a key that takes all these potential inconsistencies into account isn’t easy. To be complete, you would have to design the key in your head, figuring out all the interconnections, before you wrote anything down.
There are two solutions to this problem: You can try to be complete and thorough, preparing answers for every possible situation, or you can reduce the amount of detail you give about creature behaviors and improvise answers as you play. To describe a farmhouse, you could simply note the occupants (their ages and the like) and the significant possessions at the farm. The activity of the NPCs can be adjusted to the moment – working in fields, sleeping, eating, etc.
Trying to pre-plan for every eventuality is time-consuming – there is a fair amount of planning and writing you must do. Improvising cuts down on preparation, but forces you to work harder during the game. The best solution is to compromise: Carefully detail the most important planned encounters and simply sketch out and improvise the small encounters. This way you are not overwhelmed in preparation or play.
Triggers
Another type of planned encounter is the trigger. It can be used with a key or by itself. A trigger is a simple either/or or if/then type of statement. It is used for more interactive types of encounters, where the action of the event is what is important, such as the kidnapping described below.
The next episode occurs at 1 o’clock in the morning: If any character is still awake, he hears a muffled scream coming from the balcony of the room next door. If the characters investigate, they will discover two hooded men (6th-level thieves) attempting to drag a struggling young woman over the railing. One man has her firmly gripped from behind, his hand clamped over her mouth. The other is hoisting her legs over the side. A confederate waits with the horses on the ground below. If the characters do nothing, there will be a crash as she kicks over a flower urn, followed by a muttered curse and then the galloping of horses.
If the characters are noticed, the unburdened man wheels to face them, drawing two swords, one in each hand. The woman attempts to break free, only to be struck unconscious by the other man. The man on the ground quietly cocks a crossbow and aims it at the party, keeping an eye out for spellcasters.
Here everything is dependent upon previous and current choices of action. Is a character awake? Will the characters investigate? How will they react to the kidnappers? Each decision molds subsequent events. The characters might leap to the young woman’s rescue or they might rouse themselves only in time to see the kidnappers gallop off with her tied to the saddle. Their actions could alter planned events. Coming to her aid, the characters rescue the lady. As DM you must be ready to tell her story. Why was she attacked? Who were they? Are there any clues the characters can find?
To write this type of encounter, first outline the basic sequence of events that would happen if the characters did not interfere. Next, think like a player and try to anticipate what the characters might do. Would they aid the lady? If so, you will need combat information – how the attackers will fight and what weapons and tactics they will use. What happens if the characters try to sound the alarm or talk to the kidnappers? What will the lady say if rescued? At least a brief note should be made to account for the probable reactions of the player characters.
As complete as you make them, triggers are not without their weaknesses. While very good at describing a scene, a trigger does not provide much background information. In the event above, there is no description of the room, the attackers, the lady’s history, etc. There could be, but including it would be extra work, and description would also get in the way of the action.
A less critical problem is that DMs can’t anticipate every action of the player characters. No matter how carefully a trigger is constructed, there is always something the characters can do to upset the situation. In the example above, what if the characters panic and a mage launches a fireball at the attackers? In a flash of flame, they and their victim are killed and the building is on fire. Prescient is the DM who can anticipate this event!
There is no simple solution for unpredictable players (nor would you want one!). As a DM you are never going to be able to predict every player decision. Experience, both as a player and a DM, teaches you what the most likely actions are. Beyond these you must improvise, relying on your skill as a DM.
Combining Keys and Triggers
Many DMs make use of a dual arrangement for preparing encounters. First they prepare a key, describing the appearance of the encounter locations, items in them, and other things that are relatively non-changing. Then they write triggers focusing on the characters and the actions.
When they need to describe a room, they rely on the key, while the trigger describes the plot of the adventure. Although this requires a little more set-up, this allows different events to happen in the same place or area, giving a feeling of continuity to the adventure and campaign.
Random Encounters
In addition to planned encounters, the DM also runs random encounters. These aren’t tied to a specific place or event. They are based on chance.
During the course of an adventure, the DM makes encounter checks, rolling a die to determine if a random encounter occurs. If one does, the DM chooses or randomly rolls for an encounter using a random encounter table he has prepared or one provided with a published adventure. Complete random encounter tables are provided in the Monstrous Compendium. These can be updated and replaced as new creatures are added to the 2nd Edition AD&D game.
When a check indicates an encounter is imminent, a creature or NPC determined by the encounter tables will arrive in the area in the next few minutes to investigate. Many encounters end in combat, but this isn’t necessary – it is possible to talk to intelligent creatures, whether in the dungeon, out in the wilderness, or on the streets of a town or city.
Should You Use Random Encounters?
Some argue that random encounters are foolish and should not be used. These people maintain that everything should be under the control of the DM, that there should be no surprises for him while playing the game.
Certainly, random encounters can be abused through overuse, and they can create illogical encounters. (The word foolish would certainly apply to the DM who allowed the characters to be attacked by an orc war-band in the middle of a peaceful human city!) However, when used judiciously, random encounters add to everyone’s fun in a couple of ways.
Variety: Random encounters introduce variety the player characters didn’t expect. The characters, exploring a dungeon, become overconfident if they only encounter monsters in chambers and rooms. Random encounters remind them that any second could be dangerous, no matter where they are.
DM Challenge: Random encounters make the game more exciting for the DM. The game has to be fun and challenging for him as well as the players. Part of the challenge for the DM is to improvise an encounter on the spot. The DM gets involved and excited, improving the play of the game.
To use a random encounter, the DM doesn’t just open his rulebook and blindly pick a monster (although there is nothing that says he can’t do this). Instead, he uses or creates specific tables that are tailored to the needs of the adventure and adventuring area, by including only those monsters or NPCs that are appropriate to the setting.
Characteristics of Random Encounter Tables
All encounter tables share certain concepts. Before you begin creating your own tables, some understanding of these basics is necessary.
Uniqueness: Although one could create a single encounter table and use it for every situation, this is a grievous limitation on the wealth and detail possible in a campaign world. Encounter tables add distinction and differentiation to areas. Encounter tables can reflect conditions as basic as terrain or as complicated as entire social structures.
This in mind, the DM should decide where in the campaign world each encounter table applies. A single table could be made for all deserts; a separate table could be made for the Desert of Shaar, which is noted for its fabulous beasts; a further table could be made for the ten-mile area around the Palace of Yasath in the Desert of Shaar, where the Emir of Yasath maintains patrols to keep the beasts at bay. Within the palace an entirely different encounter table would be needed, since the patrols don’t tramp through the hallways and harems.
Each table says something about the conditions in a particular area – the level of civilization, the degree of danger, even the magical weirdness of the area. Although the players never see the entire table, such tables help the DM define for himself the nature of his campaign world.
Frequency: All monsters have a frequency of appearance, whether given in the monster’s description or assumed by the DM. Orcs are more common than minotaurs, which are seen more often than dragons, which, in turn, are seen more often than Tiamat, Evil Queen of the Dragons. Frequency of appearance is normally listed as common, uncommon, rare, very rare, and unique.
Common creatures normally account for 70% of the local population. They may be more prolific or just more outgoing, more likely to show themselves to strangers.
Uncommon monsters fill the next 20%. They are fewer in number and tend to be more wary of outsiders.
Rare creatures account for another 7%. Such creatures are normally solitary, exceptionally powerful, or very retiring.
Very rare creatures constitute only 3% of the population. They are truly exotic and almost always extremely powerful. They may be creatures who have wandered far from their normal range or whose magical nature is such that not many can possibly exist at any one time in any one place.
Unique monsters are just that. They are individuals, specific and named. Such creatures should never be used on random encounter tables. They are reserved for planned encounters.
The chance of encounter is not determined solely by the frequency listing, however. The DM should also take into account a location’s terrain or deadliness. A polar bear can be considered unique only in the tropics and is very rare at best even in the northernmost reaches of temperate lands. An orc living in the deadliest area of an ancient ruin, an area populated by a dragon, mind flayers, and medusae, would be very rare indeed (and very lucky to be alive). Frequency must be modified to suit conditions.
Frequency must also be subservient to the conditions the DM desires to create. If the DM wants a valley filled with magical creatures of incredible deadliness, then rare and very rare creatures are going to be more frequent. A lost valley filled with dinosaurs defies the normal chances of encountering such beasts. Indeed, they could only be considered unique elsewhere.
Furthermore, frequency does not mean characters will encounter a creature 70% or 20% of the time, only that it falls into a group that composes that percentage of the population. The percentages and ratings given are not demographic data; they are only guidelines.
Several common creatures will compose the bulk of the population, so that the chance of meeting any particular type is less than 70%. The same is true for all the other categories. In the end, the chance of meeting a particular type of common creature is still greater than that of meeting an uncommon or very rare creature.
Logic: The other significant factor restricting encounter tables is rationality. Everything on the encounter table should be justifiable for one reason or another. By requiring justification, the DM can quickly narrow his range of creature choices down to a reasonable number, in essence winnowing the chaff from the wheat.
The first and easiest criteria are terrain and temperature. Camels aren’t found in jungles; kraken don’t crawl across deserts. Glaring contradictions of logic must be justified. Produce a woodland dryad in the middle of a barren waste and the players are going to demand some explanation. Worse yet, they may assume the encounter is significant
to the adventure because it is so illogical, which may in turn throw your entire adventure off track.
Even if the creature fits a given terrain, it may not be appropriate to the setting. Just because an orc can appear on the plains doesn’t mean it should, not if those plains are at the heart of a fiercely guarded human empire. Out on the fringes where raiding bands could slip across the border would be a far more appropriate place.
As important as terrain and temperature in assessing the logic of a random encounter is the character of the society the table is supposed to reflect. Balance what the players expect to meet with what would make a good adventure. At the heart of an empire, the characters would expect to find farmers, merchants, nobles. priests, and the like. The task for the DM is to find ways to make these seemingly ordinary encounters interesting.
In wilderness areas and abandoned ruins, there may not be a particular culture to consider. However, there is a society of sorts or, more accurately, an ecosystem. This is often overlooked in dungeon settings. Just which creatures feed on which? What relationships exist that allow all manner of diverse creatures to live in the same place without annihilating each other? Does a creature’s random appearance make sense with what the characters know about the place? Medusae make poor wandering monsters, since logic says there should be statues of their victims in areas where they live. To round a corner and run into a medusa who just happens to be strolling the caverns grates against logic.
Effect: Finally, as DM, consider the role of the random encounter. Such an encounter is not a part of the adventure being told; it hasn’t been worked into the plot and doesn’t advance the conflicts. A random encounter should not be the most exciting event of an adventure. You don’t want the players remembering only the random encounter and forgetting the story you worked to create!
Random encounters provide breaks in the action and can build or release tension. The characters are galloping after the desperately fleeing kidnappers. Suddenly a flight of griffins, attracted by the clamor of the chase, swoop down, aiming to make a meal of the player characters’ horses. The kidnappers may escape unless the characters can extricate themselves from the attack in mere moments! The tension level goes up.
Random encounters can also wear the player characters down in preparation for a larger, planned encounter. The uncertainty of the encounters adds an element of risk for the players. Will the characters be strong enough? A random encounter should rarely cripple a party (unless they are in a sorry state to begin with), but each one should weaken them a little.
It doesn’t matter if the player characters win every random encounter, especially not if they are down a few more hit points, spells, and magical items after each. Just knowing they are not at peak form and that they have expended their abilities on wandering monsters makes the players nervous.
For these reasons, you don’t want to use the most powerful and significant creatures when creating random encounter tables. You certainly don’t want to use creatures that are more powerful than those in the rest of your adventure! Random monsters should be less significant than those you have planned.
Creating Encounter Tables
There are a multitude of ways a DM can create encounter tables (as many ways as there are different ranges of die rolls). The choices range from very simple (roll 1d6 for one of six possible choices) to very complicated (roll percentile dice, modify for time of day and weather and cross-index the result with the terrain). With this, and the common characteristics described above in mind, you can create random encounter tables for virtually any situation.
As already noted, an encounter table can be constructed around virtually any type of die or dice roll. Two of the best, however are the 2-20 table and the percentile table. Both provide a wide enough range of results to account for the varying frequency of appearance of the monsters the DM wants to use.
The 2-20 Table
This table has nineteen openings (although, by doubling up on some entries, more or less than nineteen different encounters can appear on the table). The 2-20 number is generated by adding the roll of 1d8 to that of 1d12. Thus, 2s and 20s are very rare, while there is an equal chance for results from 9 through 13. Monsters are assigned specific positions on the table according to their frequency, as shown on Table 54.
*Or choice of two very rare creatures, 50% chance of each
**Or choice of two rare creatures, 50% chance of each
To fill the table, the DM first selects those monsters he wishes to use on the table and counts how many of each type he has. If he has fewer of a given type than the chart provides for, he can repeat entries. If he has more, he either drops some creatures or doubles up some entries.
For example, say the DM is creating an encounter chart for the Desert of Shaar. First he chooses his possible encounters:
Common
Camel
Giant centipede
Herd animal
Ogre
Ore
Huge spider
Uncommon
Basilisk
Brass dragon
Caravan
Hobgoblin
Nomads
Giant scorpion
Rare
Chimera
Pilgrims
Harpy
Dervishes
Salamander
Very rare
Djinni
E&eeti
Lamia
The table has six common entries, six uncommon entries, five rare, and three very rare entries. There are also two spots that could be rare or very rare. The DM chooses to arrange his encounters as shown:
| Dice Roll 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 |
Frequency Lamia Djinni Harpy Pilgrims Dervishes Basilisk Caravan/Hobgoblins Huge spider Ogre Camel/Herd animal Giant centipede Orc Nomads Giant scorpion Dervishes Chimera Salamander Lamia Djinni |
The DM chose not to use the brass dragon or the efreeti, saving these powerful creatures for a special, planned encounter in his adventure. He justifies the presence of the djinni on the table by deciding that it will be helpful to the party, giving them a useful clue about the adventure (unless, of course, they foolishly attack it). To fill the spots of the creatures he set aside, the DM repeated a few entries, meaning they may show up slightly more frequently than might be expected.
The Percentile Table
This is another simple form of encounter table. Here, the creature frequency percentages can be used directly. To create a percentile table, the DM repeats the steps given above for selecting and grouping his encounters, again opting not to use the efreeti or the brass dragon. Then the number of creatures at each frequency is divided into the percentage for that frequency (70%, 20%, 7%, and 3%, respectively, for common, uncommon, rare, and very rare). In the earlier example, the list includes six common monsters (70%), resulting in an 11% spread per monster (66% total). This is repeated for the monsters in each category. The resulting number is the dice range for each creature. Using these values as a guide, he arranges the creatures into a table.
| D100 Roll | Creature | |
| Common | ||
| 01-11 12-22 23-33 34-44 45-55 56-66 |
Camel Giant centipede Herd animal Ogre Orc Huge spider |
|
| Uncommon | ||
| 67-70 71-74 75-78 79-82 83-86 |
Basilisk Caravan Hobgoblins Nomads Giant scorpion |
|
| Rare | ||
| 87-88 89-90 91-92 93-95 96-97 |
Chimera Pilgrims Harpy Dervishes Salamander |
|
| Very Rare | ||
| 98-99 00 |
Lamia Djinni |
|
Using this method the DM was able to remain reasonably faithful to the frequency percentages for different creatures: 66% as opposed to 70% for common; 20% exactly for uncommon; 11% as opposed to 7% for rare; and 3% for very rare. In creating this table, the DM had to make adjustments here and there to account for all percentage numbers, but doing so allowed him to increase the emphasis on certain monsters.
Dungeon Encounter Tables
Dungeon encounter tables are normally set up according to levels – 1st, 2nd, 3rd, etc. Each level is a relative measure of the power of those creatures on it. In general, the level of the table corresponds to character level, although characters may also encounter and defeat (or be challenged by) creatures from higher or lower level tables. Generally, when adventuring in a dungeon, characters should meet random encounters that are equal to or no more than two levels higher or lower than their own.
Sometimes dungeons themselves are arranged in levels (although this is by no means required). In this case, the dungeon level and the encounter table correspond. Characters on the 1st-level of the dungeon would encounter creatures from the first level encounter table. This not only keeps the power of the monsters in line with the strength of a typical party, it also maintains the logical structure of the dungeon level. It doesn’t make much sense for extremely powerful monsters to mingle freely (and without consequence) among the weaker creatures that inhabit the level.
Determining dungeon level: Figuring the appropriate level for a particular creature is simple. Look up or calculate the experience points of the creature and check this number on Table 55, below. This will tell you where to place the creature.
| Table 55: DUNGEON LEVEL | |
| XP | Creature Level |
| 1-20 | 1 |
| 21-50 | 2 |
| 51-150 | 3 |
| 151-250 | 4 |
| 251-500 | 5 |
| 501-1,000 | 6 |
| 1,001-3,000 | 7 |
| 3,001-5,500 | 8 |
| 5,501-10,000 | 9 |
| 10,000+ | 10 |
When constructing the encounter table, creatures with a greater or lesser power than the table being designed can be used. However, each level of difference between creature and table decreases the frequency of appearance by one (a common creature becomes uncommon, a rare creature would be very rare, and so on). Creatures less powerful than the given level seldom venture into such dangerous territocy. Creatures more powerful are seldom met to ensure the player characters have a decent chance of survival. After adjustment, these creatures can be added to the table.
In addition, there is a chance that an encountered creature will be more powerful than expected: When designing a 2-20 table, the 20 result could be “Use next highest table”; if a percentile table is used, 98-100 could bump the DM to the next table. Thus, players would never be assured of safety or good odds.
Wilderness Encounter Tables
Unlike the dungeon tables, those used for the wilderness are not so neatly organized according to deadliness or power. One principle of wilderness adventuring (which makes it more dangerous for low-level characters) is that virtually any creature can be met – and often in sizeable numbers. This is a risk the players should be aware of before they take their characters out into the untracked forest.
This does not mean that wilderness adventuring should be impossible for low-level characters. It shouldn’t be so deadly that they can’t walk three steps before a flight of red dragons appears and turns them to ash with one fiery breath! That’s just bad refereeing. Low-level characters should have the opportunity to go on wilderness adventures that they can survive.
Perhaps an area of the nearby forest is regularly patrolled by the King’s Wardens who drive off the greater threats to the safety of the population. Lone monsters often escape their notice and sometimes raid the outlying farms. Special enconnter tables can be created to reflect the lower levels of monsters that do manage to lurk in these woods, providing low-level characters with a decent but not overpowering challenge.
The greatest consideration in creating wilderness encounter tables is to have a separate table for each type of terrain. These need not be created all at once, although tables must exist for the terrain-types the characters have to enter during the course of an adventur.e. Different terrain types that can be used include the following:
Aerial
Arctic
Bush
Coastal
Desert, hot or cold
Farmland
Glacier
Grasslands
Jungle, sub-tropical
Jungle, tropical
Lake
Mountains, high
Mountains, low
Ocean, deep
Ocean, shallows
Parkland
Plains
Prehistoric
Rain forest
Salt marsh
Steppe
Swamp, tropical
Swamp, temperate
Temperate forest
Tundra
Wilderness encounter tables can reflect more than just terrain. There are differences between the jungles of Africa and those of Asia or South America. Different areas of jungle (or plains or whatever) can have different properties in a fantasy world, too.
Furthermore, an area’s level of civilization should be taken into account. There might be tables for settled farmlands, border areas, and barely explored plains. All cover the same type of terrain, but there are vast differences in the types of encounters.
Special Encounter Tables
In addition to tables for dungeons and wilderness areas, the DM can create others for any type of special situation he creates. The most common of these are encounter tables for towns and cities. These are not properly wildernesses and certainly aren’t dungeons. The players shouldn’t expect to meet bands of ravening beasts intent on death and destruction (unless it’s a very peculiar city!).
Town and city encounters will be with people, mostly player character races, of different social classes and occupations. Guardsmen, merchants, beggars, urchins, teamsters, and craftsmen plying their trade are all likely encounters for a city.
A single encounter table will do for most small villages and towns. Such places have a great deal in common, although the DM can certainly create distinctions between villages on the coast and those well inland.
Cities, however, tend to have unique characters. Just as Los Angeles is different from New York or Paris from Marseilles, different cities in a fantasy world should feel different to the characters. Each major city should have a unique encounter table to reflect these differences.
Indeed, even within a city there may be different encounter tables to reflect the character of the city’s districts. The villas on the hillside are no less dangerous than the waterfront, but these dangers take more subtle and insidious forms.
In the end, there is no limit to the degree of subdivision that can be applied to encounter tables. Cities, individual districts, specific complexes within those districts, and buildings within those complexes could all have separate encounter tables. However, they do not need to. The DM should only concern himself with those areas he knows or thinks the players are going to frequent! There is no reason to do pointless work – the DM has enough responsibility already.
For example, suppose the DM decides to create tables for the Empire of Orrim. Orrim stretches from the Harr Mountains to the Sea of Faldor. North of it lies the Forest of Bane, a place noted for its evil denizens. Most of the empire is agricultural, but the mountain district is heavily devoted to mining. Several large, underground complexes have been built:
There are two major cities – Sulidam, the capital, located on the coast, and Coralport, a pirate stronghold on an island offshore. To limit his work, the DM decides to start the characters in a small village of the mining district, close to an abandoned mine (his dungeon).
First, the DM creates the following tables:
- Dungeon levels 1-4 (for the abandoned mine)
- Village encounters
- Black Opal Inn (the residence of the player characters)
After a while, the characters want to go exploring. Now the DM adds some new encounter tables to his collection. These include:
- Settled mountains (for low-level wilderness)
- High mountains (for more dangerous adventures)
- Settled plains (for when the characters travel to the capital)
Working in this manner, the DM gradually creates a complete set of encounter tables. When he is finished, his collection might look like this, in addition to those already mentioned.
Farmland
Forest of Bane
Forest borderlands
Mountain borderlands
Settled seacoast
Shallow ocean
Waterfront distict, Sulidam
Nobles’ district, Sulidam
Artisans’ district, Sulidam
Slums, Sulidam
Temple of Martens (a powerful cult of Sulidam)
Sewers of Sulidam
Emperor’s Palace
City of Crypts (a cemetery outside Sulidam)
Dungeon of Theos (under an evil wizard’s villa in Sulidam)
Coralport
Coralport jungles
The Harpooned Whale, an inn of Coralport
Hargast Mine (an opening to the Underdark)
By creating the tables gradually, the campaign world slowly begins to define itself and take shape before players’ eyes.
Spicing Up Encounter Tables
There are several things that can be done to make encounter tables both easier and more exciting to use. Some of these are strictly for the convenience of the DM, making the job of running the game easier. Others are different ways to pose exciting challenges for players, keeping everyone from being bored.
The first trick is to include basic monster statistics along with each entry on an encounter table. While this means taking a little longer to set up an encounter table, it also means the DM doesn’t have to stop and look up information as often in the middle of the game. A shorthand notation similar to the one given below can be used.
Creature – APP #, AT # , THAC0 #, D #, AC #, HD #, MV #, special notes on attacks and defenses
APP lists the number of creatures likely to appear. This is given as a die range.
AT is the number of attacks the creature can make.
THAC0 is the combat value of the creature (see Chapter 9: Combat).
D is the damage caused by a successful hit; more than one entry may be needed here.
AC is the creature’s Armor Class.
HD tells how many Hit Dice the creature has; hit points aren’t given since this should vary from encounter to encounter.
MV is the creature’s movement rate.
Special notes should remind the DM of any special abilities, magical items, or defenses the creature might possess.
For DMs willing to devote more time to advance preparation, another good trick is to slowly build a collection of file cards describing special encounters. Each card could have a more detailed description of a person, creature, group, or thing on it.
Once the DM has this collection, “Special Encounter” entries can be added to random encounter tables. When a special encounter occurs, the DM chooses a card from his collection and uses the detailed information there to role-play the encounter. Some possible special encounters include:
The den or lair of a creature, complete with a small map, short key, tactics, and special treasure. (For example, “The nest of a female wyvern and her brood located in an aerie on the side of cliff. Woven into the nest are two suits of chain mail +1”)
A detailed description of an NPC, including weapons, magical items, spells (if any), goods, physical appearance, attitudes, companions, and perhaps even a mission or story. (For example, “The friar seeking companionship along a lonely trail who is really a bandit leading the party into a trap.”)
A cunning trap describing detailed workings and effects. (For example, “A kobold deadfall meant to gather fresh meat rigged in an old mine corridor.”)
A vignette complete with characters, actions, and motives. (For example, “A near riot breaks out on a city street after a band of Voorish outlanders, squabbling with a merchant, overturn his melon cart.”)
The great advantage of these special encounters is that there is no requirement to use them at any given time. The DM can prepare such cards in his spare time and produce them whenever he needs them. Players will become convinced that the DM is a genius, and his game will never be dull.
Random encounters need not be limited to NPCs and monsters. All manner of things can be included, dangerous or just mysterious. Other possibilities for encounter tables include:
Shrieks in the distance
Traps
Changes in the weather
Rustling of nearby bushes
Lights in the distance
Celestial wonders
Sudden gusts of wind
The clatter of a rock falling from the ceiling
All of these help build atmosphere. Furthermore, if these are cleverly mixed with real encounters that begin in similar ways, players become attentive and involved. Exploring a dark, dank cave where hideous beasts may live, with only a guttering torch, should be a nervous and scary event. Adding “fake” random encounters will give players some idea of the uncertainty their characters experience. If nothing else, this kind of encounter will give players some respect for the risks their imaginary characters are taking!
DMing Encounters
Encounter tables are created before play begins. During a game session, the DM has to take the information he has put into the encounter tables and bring it to life.
To use an encounter table and run an encounter, the DM needs to know several things: How often should he check for encounters? What is encountered? How many creatures are there? How far away are they? Did they surprise, or were they surprised by, the characters? What will the encountered group do? The rules below tell you how to answer these questions.
Encounter Checks
The DM knows when a planned encounter is to occur, based on the conditions or location he has prepared. The same is not true of random encounters. For these, the DM must make encounter checks.
Frequency of Encounter Checks: How often the DM makes encounter checks depends on the situation. Different types of terrain (or dungeons) may make checks more or less frequent. Furthermore, the type of terrain and population density will affect the chance the characters have a meaningful encounter. Table 56 lists both the frequency of checks and the chance that an encounter will occur for the most common wilderness situations. If characters are adventuring in other types of terrain, the DM can use a comparable entry from the table or can determine frequency and chance of encounter himself.
Encounter Chance: This lists the number or less that must be rolled on 1d10 for an encounter to occur.
Time of Day: If an x appears under a specific time of day, an encounter check should be made. This does not ensure an encounter, it only requires the check for one.
The chance of having an encounter can be modified by several factors. Foremost of these is population density. The chances of an encounter listed on Table 56 assume an unpopulated wilderness area.
Wilderness Checks: If the region is patrolled or sparsely settled, the chance of an encounter increases by one. In heavily populated areas, the chance of an encounter increases by two. These modifiers should not be used unless the DM has specially prepared encounter tables to reflect the differences between settled lands and wilderness, however.
The DM can also choose to modify the chance of an encounter for any other reason he feels is justified. If the characters have been making excessive noise or if the village alarm has been sounded, the DM can increase the chance of an encounter. The DM can even decide arbitrarily that an encounter will occur, although it can hardly be considered random anymore.
Dungeon Checks: Encounter checks in the dungeon are not affected by terrain (since there isn’t really any terrain to consider). Normally, one encounter check is made every hour, with an encounter occurring on a roll of 1 on 1d10.
If the DM deems considers part of a dungeon particularly dangerous, the number of checks can be increased to once per turn (10 minutes of game time). The DM can also increase the chance of an encounter occurring. If the characters engage in an activity that makes excessive noise (hammering spikes or taking part in a loud battle), an encounter check should be made immediately.
Is This Encounter Necessary?
Any time the DM feels his adventure is dragging along or that characters are getting over-confident, he can declare a random encounter. Likewise if he feels that a random encounter would hurt the adventure, he can ignore one that’s called for. Good judgment and story considerations are more important than slavish devotion to procedure.
Encounter Size
If the DM decides that, yes, this encounter should happen, he determines how many creatures or NPCs appear. There is no quick and easy formula for this. Experience is the best guide. The Monstrous Compendium lists a typical encounter size for each monster. Use this as a guideline, especially when you’re first starting out as a DM, but don’t follow this inflexibly.
When uncertain, use a small encounter. It is far better for a random encounter to be easily defeated by the player characters than it is for the monster to overwhelm them. An easy PC victory gives the DM information and experience (so he’ll know to increase the difficulty of the next encounter) without harming the player characters and his campaign. A crushing PC defeat is almost impossible to correct without obvious manipulation once the encounter has begun.
As always, use common sense when determining how big an encounter is. Nature provides some guidelines. Bear these in mind when figuring encounter size.
Many predators, especially those that hunt by night, are solitary creatures. A nocturnal fantasy creature might show up alone, as well.
Of the predators that hunt by daylight, some work alone while others cooperate in groups of two or three. One or two will attack the prey from one direction while the others wait for it to be flushed towards them. Such hunters are usually stronger and faster than their prey. Again, fantasy creatures can follow this pattern.
Smaller predators sometimes hunt in packs of 5 to 12, attempting to surround and harry a chosen victim. Herbivorous animals tend to favor herds and the company of others. Omnivores live in smaller groups and often have older members that act as guards. All of these factors can play a part in the size of a given encounter.
Surprise
Before an encounter begins, a check for surprise may be necessary. Given the right conditions, it is possible for either side in an encounter to surprise the other. In essence, the encounter is just as random for the monsters as it is for the player characters.
As noted in the Player’s Handbook, surprise is not always assured nor is the check always necessary. Light, excessive noise, and other types of prior warning can cancel the need for the check. Surprise isn’t usually possible when no form of concealment is possible (as in the case of two ships at sea), though darkness, storms, fog, and the like do act as concealment.
In some cases, one side may be able to surprise the other without the other group having the same opportunity. This is particularly true when the player characters are using lanterns or torches and the monsters are not. Seeing the light, the monsters can try to sneak closer and get the jump on the player characters.
When making a surprise roll, there are many factors that can increase or decrease the chance of surprise. Some of these are very exotic or very particular to a situation, but others can be anticipated. The more common modifiers are listed on Table 57. By comparing other situations to these modifiers, the DM has a guideline for making appropriate adjustments.
*A party anticipates attack when they have good cause to suspect immediate danger and know the likely general direction of an attack. A suspicious party is one that has grounds to believe another group might try to make a hostile move against them.
Encounter Distance
Once an encounter occurs, it is necessary to know the range at which the creatures might first be noticed. This distance is dependent first on whether or not either group is surprised or, if no surprise occurs, on the type of terrain the encounter occurs in. Encounter distances for different conditions and terrains are listed on Table 58.
In situations where no cover is possible, encounters will occur at the limit of vision unless special circumstances dictate otherwise.
While it is possible to spot another group at quite a distance, the characters or creatures may not be able to identify them immediately. The observation ranges given in the Player’s Handbook may require creatures to close in order to make a positive identification.
Encounter Reactions
Once the encounter is set and the DM is ready to role-play the situation, he needs to know how the NPCs or monsters will react. The creatures should react in the manner the DM thinks is most appropriate to the situation.
If the player characters charge a band of randomly encountered orcs with weapons drawn, the DM can easily say, “They snarl and leap to the defense!” Selection of the reaction based on the situation ensures rational behavior and avoids the illogical results that random die rolls can often give.
However, there are times when the DM doesn’t have a clue about what the monsters will do. This is not a disaster – it’s not even all that unusual. When this happens, the DM can randomly determine an encounter reaction by rolling for a result on Table 59. To use the table, roll 2d10 and add the numbers on the two dice. Increase or decrease this number by any modifiers in the creature description or the morale modifiers (see Table 50 in Chapter 9: Combat).
Using the column that most closely matches the behavior of the player characters, find the entry listed for modified die roll. The result is a general indication of how the creatures will react. This reaction must be interpreted by the DM to fit the situation.
Within these broad guidelines, a large number of specific reactions are possible.
Flight: Avoidance, panic, terror, or surrender.
Friendly: Kind, helpful, conciliatory, or simply non-aggressive.
Indifferent: Neutral, bored, businesslike, unconcerned, unimpressed, or simply oblivious.
Cautious: Suspicious, wary, dubious, paranoid, guarded, untrusting, or mildly conciliatory.
Threatening: Boastful, bravado, blustering, intimidating, short-tempered, or bluffing.
Hostile: Irritable, hot-tempered, aggressive, or violent.
Of course, a DM should never use a reaction he can’t justify. If the DM can’t see any reason for an evil efreeti to surrender to the charging player characters, it shouldn’t. The table is meant to be an aid to the DM, not an absolute decision-maker.
Fixing Things In Play
Sometimes, for all the good intentions of the DM, encounters don’t work out right. Correcting problems in play can be difficult, but there are times when it’s unavoidable. Here are some tricks you can use.
The Encounter is Too Difficult
The DM has accidentally pitted his player characters against a group of creatures too powerful for them, so much so that the player characters are doomed. To fix things, the DM can have the monsters flee in inexplicable panic; secretly lower their hit points; allow the player characters to hit or inflict more damage than they really should; have the monsters miss on attacks when they actually hit; have the creatures make grevious mistakes in strategy (like ignoring the thief moving in to strike from behind).
The Encounter Gave Away Too Much Treasure
Sometimes the DM discovers his random encounters gave away too much treasure. In this case, he can have more monsters of the same or more powerful type appear on the scene. (The first group stole the treasure and these fellows want it back; or the first was carrying the tribe’s treasury to safe-keeping; or the new group has been trailing the first to rob them, and now takes a very dim view of the characters getting all the loot.) In many ways this is like those westerns where everyone winds up fighting over the gold. In this case, the monsters don’t want to annihilate the player characters so much as get the loot and run.
The Encounter Was Too Easy
As long as the treasure the characters earned was not excessive, this is not a problem. The DM can always make things tougher for them in the next encounter.